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….

Mylapore Mardigras

When watermelons and tender coconut adorn the side walk we know summer has atlast arrived. This time around Mylapore pavements had more than just the thirst quenchers. An entire ecosystem mushroomed within a day to celebrate the annual festival of Mylapore. People seem more active than bees and ants. It was definitely an awe moment.

The gaint pandal at the entrance of the temple was welcoming and it set the stage for a grand gala festival. Mylapore has always been the epicenter of cultural and religious groups. Be it music, arts, street plays, or cultural fair there is something that this temple neighborhood offers for everyone even today. Though barricades and pandals erected on each of the four maadaveedhis made commute a nightmare, but still people were willing to put up the inconvenience to watch the fun and frolic unfold.

The Annual Panguni festival at Kapali temple began on March 24 this year with the traditional flag hoisting in the temple premises.


Shiva along with Parvati is taken on a procession along the four maadaveedhis each day at night. During these days Myalpore air is filled with a special concoction of soothing music emanating from the traditional wind instrument (Nadhaswaram), recitation of Sama vedam and hymns from various puranams by Oduvars. The burning of incense on the side and strong scent of jasmine from the sidewalk vendors makes this place spiritually and culturally invigorating.

The vahanas for the procession change every day. Traditionally it starts with Suriya prabhai and Chandra prabhai on the first two days of the festival. Adhikaranandhi on the third, Vrishabaha vahanam on the fifth, the car on the seventh, procession of 63 Nayanmars (Arupathimoovar) on the eight day draws scores of people from all over the city. The final day concludes with the celebration of the traditional marriage between Shiva and Parvathi (falls on the day of Uthiram star).

The festival is a big 10 day entertainment feast for all the kids and elderly. Within the temple premises oldies throng to hear the concerts and spiritual lectures, while artist from the nearby villages perform folk arts to entreat people on the streets. The little ones go around the streets and bring back a handful of items that include balloons, watches, sugar candy, flutes in exchange for a small change from their piggy bank.

The festival brings together an entire ecosystem of art, culture, music and religion filled with fun and frolic. Apart from sidewalks being turned into “Water or Buttermilk Pandal” for the Car and the Arupathimoovar festival every inch of the sidewalk is turned into a shop that sells trinkets, coconuts, flowers, incense, peacock feathers, cheap jewellery, and rangoli patterns and heaps of colors. Narikoravas, a diminishing trible also throng the temple city to display their intricate handwork that range from tuft of fox hair to ward of evil at home, catapult to hunt down birds, and chains made from colorful beads. Paramapatham and thayakkattai (Snakes & Ladders) and Pallankuzhi are hot sellers at fair.

It has been more than 25 years since I attended one and there seems no change in the
celebration. There is more fervor and flavor with which the festival is celebrated today
and tradition intact. When one would think that fast lifestyle and western influence will
pigeon hole and dilute such festivals, but on the contrary attendance is increasing year after year. This very festival connects people all over the city and the globe. The very utterance of
the word Arupathimoovar transcends peoples’ thoughts across latitudes and longitudes
and makes them feel connected and charged. Somethings last forever!!

Will Mylapore Mami’s RIP?

My single status seems to push everyone to the sideline and without any effort it gets me the limelight. Is this an accomplishment or am I the recipient of Param Vir Chakra? Be it a family gathering, a professional gathering or a relative visiting my home these folks are always read to assault and autopsy me with their questions. I don’t know their intent? Is it because they have a fabulous marriage and want me to discover the same or want to get me into that pool of mud and wallow like the other buffaloes?

Do I enjoy this limelight? Definitely not! Recently an uninvited long nose neighbor sprouted in my home and comfortably sat in the drawing room and questioned my single status. She made me look like a horrible son in front of my parents accusing me of not letting my parents dispense parental duties and ruining their peace of mind. Not only did she make my parents grief stricken but on the way out she reminded of my ticking biological clock and infact made a pass at my salt-and-pepper hair and beard. I subtly told her that I age with grace and don’t have to dye my hair twice a week. Guys can you hear my clock? Is it ticking louder and faster than the Big Ben? I would love to be a human bomb and blow up (not blow off) these females. It usually takes a couple of days like the cold virus to ward off the impressions left by this 5 feet and 75 kilo bad energy vixens. She is just one of the many vixens that run amok in the hypocritical Mylapore society.

She is one of the direct ones, but there are other nimble ones who make my parents feel emotionally paralyzed and push them to welter in self pity by reminding them about my single status and deteriorating Arvind Swamy looks. This Arvind Swami fixation with Mylapore Mami will never wane. Is it because they fantacize on him more their better halves? After sending feelers across to see if my parents ever had intentions of getting me married, they would throw the list of unmarried women and possibly entice my folks with their wealth, pedigree and family background. I feel like telling these walking cylinders that I am not in the flesh market and neither looking for a suitable pedigree mate, or KCI certified partner, which I did for my Labrador. To these Mami’s marriage is all about accepting dowry and making off springs.

The third variety is one who would walk into the house and move around as though they are my immediate family. They enjoy the cardamom tea that my mom makes and then slowly open the sluice and let their reeking verbal diarrhea flow. Some of them would directly ask me how long I will make my mother do household chores. I assure them that I earn and can afford to have 3 maids for my house and I don’t need to be married to have someone help my mother in the kitchen. With my terse and pungent reply they dismiss me from their clan as an irresponsible son and they would follow my mother to chew on her brain and happiness. They eulogize on my single status and paint this to be the worst ever possible tragedy in my parents’ life.

Some of the Mami’s play the emotional card when they figure none of their tricks work with me. They dramatize my bachelor hood to be their ticket to be hell and would want see me married before they breathe for the last time and shed a few crocodile tears to create a pensive mood. There was a time when I got upset and moved by such tears, but over the years I seem to have got immune to such tear parties. Now I never bothered to hear the cries and howls of these vixens and I dust them off my shoulder like the flakes of dandruff.

The last variety is the gluttonous breed of pot bellied Mamis who parade around the town asking when I would invite them for my wedding lunch/ reception dinner. I usually compare them to the female ticks that live of healthy home grown dogs. Some of them even get greedier and ask me when I would get them a Saree for my wedding. With a smile I tell them if free food was their secret behind their pot belly I can take them out for lunch/dinner anytime. Shamelessly they disappear from the living room like Russian submarines and surface in the kitchen to verbally taunt my parents. At the next moment they move on from my single status and start bitching about the newly married couples and other mother-in-laws and daughter-in-laws stories in the neighborhood. They forget that they were thrown out of the house when they got their son married. I remind my mother about these Mami’s life and how they were thrown out of the house for their wagging their long sticky reptile tongues. Sometime I ruthlessly remind them of their bitter lives and their past, but still they seem to be committed to the mission of getting me married.

I’m not sure if my single status was result of good or bad karma in my previous birth, but for sure I have earned the wrath of Mylapore Mamis' in our previous birth, they keep coming back to haunt me. These Mamis’ furtively leave our home after creating a pandemonium with their rude and ruthless remarks. Volcanoes of emotion erupt soon after they leave and the house turns in a humid hell hole for the next few days.

Majority of the Mami world seems to suffer from this epidemic and marriage seems to the only ambrosia for everyone born in this earth. Be it a psychological problem or be it a personality problem they believe that marriage is an elixir. To enjoy and be with oneself for life means a curse beyond emancipation.

Well I have never bothered to ask them how well their marriage sucks and the history and frequency of their physical and verbal abuse in their relationship. Having not much education, emotionally and financially dependent on their men, these Mami’s have learned to enjoy their lifetime in prison.

The institution of marriage is yet another sparkling invention by mankind. I am sure all these Mami’s are disappointed by their men and it is society and the institution of marriage puts pressure on them to stay together. Institution of marriage is a merely a Gold Chain and a talisman in a few sovereigns. But today there is renaissance happening in this institution of marriage. I am waiting for the day when these Mamis’ would discover the multiple affairs in their Mama’s life and office flings their Sons had. I am also waiting for these Mylapore nincompoops to discover about same sex marriages and live-in relationships in their grandsons and grand daughters’ life.

Biologist argued that men by nature are like animals can seldom be in a monogamous relationship and women by nature look around for the best men to produce off springs. I don’t know if this theory still holds good today but with changing human needs and wants and a lot of these stereotypes will soon be broken in Mylapore. If these Mamis are around I am sure they will still inflict the cruelty of horoscope matching, Moola Nakshatram and Chevvai (Mars Dosha) dosha even for same sex marriages. These Popes of Myalpore (Mamis) will never change their views and shift paradigms. PS: Neither I proclaim to be a gay, an impotent or a womanizer to enjoy my single status and condemn the institution of marriage. I am just a man who lives by his free will and enjoys being single.

I am just sick and tired of answering people why I am single. My single hood seems to trouble them more their old age friends, viz. asthma and arthritis and I don’t know how and why I become an eyesore in Mami crowds. May be someday I will feel marred due to my single status and decide get married, but when I do it a lot of graves will open in the city and Mami skeletons would parade to the wedding hall to bless me and walk back to their graves to rest in peace.