Andha Naal - Mylapore

Everytime when you meet someone old you always get to hear “in those days” stories. These are tales from the days when “currency denomination was in Ana, Naya and Paise, distance was measured in Furlong, grains measured in marakaal and time was in Nazhigai. None of us in this generation would know that all this means.

The stories that men share are very different than women. Women would typically talk about price of gold, silver and diamond more importantly among other things. Some of us have grandparents who live with us, while some of us have either lost them to time or to old age home, those of you who have got them at home go and ask them those stories. I used to grill my grandmother with all sorts of questions right from her school days, about her arranged marriage, honeymoon, her first trip to the movies, her memories of Madras. I always found such nostalgic stories more interesting than science fiction and history text books. If history was taught this way then I would have definitely turned into a historian.

Anways, the nostalgic tone with which the oldies narrate such heritage stories in a way that will make your heart long, just like the way MS sings in the movie Meera, “Andha naalum vandhidaatho”. Definitely for old people “andha kalathu ninaivugal” is their priced possession and they make us believe those were the best days. May be they are! Sometimes the conversation is so intense that you go into their world and often feel trapped.

Last week when I walked down my street I noticed a 60 year old, typical “Madras type bungalow” with high roof and beautiful Burma teak railings on the ceiling (Madras ceiling), spacious porticos being demolished. How many times I would have jumped over the wall to get into the house to retrieve my tennis ball? How many mangoes I would have stolen from that tree? How many times has the mama caught me red handed and threatened to tell my father? I felt depressed watching my childhood memories being demolished. I would rather suffer from dementia than having to watch this and painfully erase my memory. But sadly this has been happening for ages and many generations have gone through such memory turmoils and helpless watched them crumbling.

I was in Paris last month and I found every building was atleast 300years old, built during Napolean Bonaparte’s time and they take pride in preserving those stone structures. Today it is a rarity to spot such old buildings in Madras and especially in the heritage filled Mylapore. A place where Sammandhar got Poompaavi to life from a pot of ash, a place where Tiruvalluvar and Vasuki lived, Papanasam Sivan sang along the four veedhis and a place where Parvathi was born as Peacock and she worshipped Shiva to get out of her curse. Innumerable tales and trilogies associated with this place.

I belong to the generation that saw maatuvandi in Mylapore, heard discourses and concerts at RR Sabha, bought vegetables in North Mada Street, had Brahmin lunch at Karpagambal Mess, got my text books only from Vijaya stores and went to tuition in Palathope. Today tuitions have gone online, concerts and lectures are heard on Youtube, books are read on Kindle, lunches had out of microwaveable packets, bought cut vegetables at Reliance Fresh and Metro station stands taller than temple gopuram.

The only piece of heritage and history that is remaining in Mylapore today is Kapaleeshwar Temple, temple tank and Santhome church. Before they get conquered I decided to capture them digitally. Hopefully this collection will take you on down your memory land, do share it with your family, friends and elders at home. i am sure they will have more stories to share.

Andha naal gnanbaham nenjiley vandhadhey nanbaney nanbaney nanbaney….