My Madras Memories.

J.L. Narasimha Rao

 Lord Tennyson was right when he said 'The old order changeth, yielding place to new', as far as Madras was concerned. The old Madras of 1950s and 1960s where I was born and brought up was no more and now remains a concrete jungle of Chennai.

  have been to Chennai in the beginning of 2016 after leaving Madras in 1970s. Now I find a lot of difference. Many roads which bore the names of Britishers of the bygone era have been renamed with those of Tamil political, social and literary figures, some others with those of national leaders. The main train terminus was no more Madras Central Station but Chennai Central Station.

 I alighted the Express train from Hyderabad and got into a prepaid auto to T. Nagar via Mount Road. Two famous landmarks I liked most in the one of the longest international thoroughfares was the Spencer building and the LIC building almost  to it. The historic Spencer building housing  Bothams  paradise, among many other show rooms was built in Goethic architectural style. I was acquainted with many writers here just by browsing books at the Higgin Bothams. This grand old building caught fire under mysteriouscircumstances in 1981 and it was domolished in 1985 to give way to an ultra modern shopping complex. Opposite to it was the LIC building. The fourteen storied structure was the tallest building in the South in those days. Of course today it is dwarfed by many other taller structures.

 When the autorickshaw was going through Montieth Road in , it was a pleasant surprise for me to note the change of the name of the road from Montieth to Rukmini Lakshmipathi Road. This name sent my memory racing back to my childhood days when my father used to tell me about her. She was the wife Dr. Achanta Lakshmipathi, principal of a medical college under whose able guidance my father studied both Ayurveda and Allopathy. Mrs. Rukmini was a freedom fighter and participated in the salt satyagraha at Vedaranyam. She was deputy speaker of Madras Presidency Legislative Assembly and later minister of Public Health in Tanguturi Prakasam cabinet. My father stayed at Lakshmipathy' house during his student days and was a baby sitter to Mr. and Mrs Lakshmipahy's daughter Indira in his spare time. Dr. Lakshmipathy paid my father's tuition fees at the college for his services.

 During my short stay at Chennai, I stayed at a hotel near the Main bustand at T.Nagar. Sir Thyagaraya Nagar has a glorious history. It was named after Sir Pitti Thyagaraya Chetty, the co- founder of Justice Party, a party which was later split into DMK and Anna DMK. Pondy Bazar is the arterial centre of T.Nagar. Geetha Cafe is one of the oldest coffee hotels of the locality. A few shops away was Kerala Hair Dressers. After having a hair cut I used to have idli, vada and masala dosa at Geetha Cafe. Sambar was one of the items I liked most at the cafe. When I had the same items alongwith my friend Rajarushi Sishtla recently I could not relish the items. I felt that quality was compromised with, now.

 There was a big tree at the entrance of the cafe, where the great Telugu writers Devulapalli Krishna Sastri and others indulged in chit chat  over cigarettes after having tiffin and coffee at the hotel. I was a boy of fifteen then and hence no way to join in their conversation. So keeping a little distance, I observed them with an awe. All I could understand was, the titles of upcoming Telugu movies, the quality of meter and poetic depth of fellow poets. Nearby was Andhra Killi shop where they ordered  pan (sweetened betel leaves with nut particles). Some times these luminaries found themselves at Panagal park at the entrance of Pondy Bazar during evenings and discussed about many topical issues. The noted Telugu scholar and movie lyricist Arudra described his association with fellow writers as Malladi Ramakrishna Sastry and others on the grassy ground near the fountain of the park, was a Cambridge University for him where he learnt many things from Malladi.

 Beside Panagal park was Sri Venkateswara Kalyana Mandapam, where Ugadi Cultural Academy of Food Corporation Employees organised cultural programs on festive occasions. Two jokes on an occasion are still green in my memory. On one occasion Kasturi Rangacharya, organiser of the programs mispronounced Padmasri Ghantasala as Padmasala which made everybody laugh. On another occasion he said 'Chittibabu (the great Vainik vidwan) concert would end in a few minutes. When translated into Telugu, the word 'end' does not go well. It should have been 'will be concluded.' This also made us chuckle..

 In the same Bazar, were Nagar Fancy Stores and Lovely Stores which were a paradise for budding philatelists. I used to buy used foreign postal stamps from these two stores, accompanied by my friends Narasimha and Badri. The Rajakumari Theatre at the Bazar named after the popular Tamil/Telugu heroine of yester years was no more and a shopping complex emerged in its place.

 We had a big house at Bazullullah Road of the locality where I was born and lived till my twenties.

 In the opposite row of the houses on the road were the houses of N.T. Rama Rao, a great actor and chief minister of Andhra Pradesh. NTR's house was flanked on either side by Chittoor V. Nagaiah and Kasturi Siva Rao. Nagaiah, the patriarch of the Telugu movie world had his office of Renuka Films on the premises. Siva Rao, a great comedian and producer of Paramanandayya Sishyula Katha lived in a large house, which reflected splendour. But alas, during his sixties, he was given to drinking and dissipation which ended his life in a tragic way. Soon after his house was auctioned.

 In the premises of Renuka Films,  lived the character actor Viswanadham, whose younger son Vijay was my friend. Together we roamed the lanes and by lanes of T. Nagar, sometimes joined by Badri and Mahesh. Though Vijay entered into government service of Tamilnadu, acting was his cup of tea. He acted in many films and TV serials. He had a strong resemblance to the US president John F. Kennedy when he was a boy and we teased him Kennedy of Madras.   

 After a few houses in the same row was the house of C. Rajagopalachari, the great freedom fighter and the last governor general of India. His daughter lived in the house and Rajaji used to visit his daughter at this house. Almost on the opposite side of Rajaji's house was the house of Krishnamurthy, the great English scholar and principal of Patchayappa College, Chetput. My elder brother Narayana Rao and eldest brother Janakiram, who studied at the college were great admirers of this scholar. He used to teach Shakespearean tragedies at the class. He threw himself heart and soul especially when he taught the fall of Hamlet, Othello and Macbeth. He often fainted after teaching the last lines depicting the death of the tragic heroes. His lectures were arranged as the last class of the day so that the students did not bunk classes after the lunch hour. My brothers returned home with a saddened face, still living in the memory of the sad deaths of the Shakespearean heroes, as if returning from a crematorium after consigning a dear one to flames.

 Now the Bazulluah Road has vastly changed. A long flyover emerged linking this road to Rangarajapuram. This flyover dwarfed N.T. Rama Rao's house, which already wore a deserted look as nobody lived in it. Gone was the glory of Nandamuri house with the demise of the grand old star turned politician.

  In Bazlullah Road I stood before the place where once my house was, for a couple of minutes. In place of our grey coloured two storied building with large rooms and spacious gardenin the front, stood a drab independent house. I pictured in my mind's eye the room of our house where I was born. In those days most of the deliveries were conducted at home only. My father being a physician  used to send for a midwife at a primary health centre and she conducted the deliveries at home. I also remembered the garage in the backyard of the house, where our Baby Austin was parked. In the garden were large neem and mango trees which we climbed with the alacrity of a monkey, for fun. My heart bled when we were forced to sell our house after our father's demise. When the the buyer got the house demolished room by room to which my memories were strongly linked, my eyes became moist.

 Now Rangarajapuram, connected via flyover to Bazullah Road lost its past flavour. Noted actors Sarada and Chalam and many upcoming actors lived in this colony. Holi was grandly celebrated in this colony with popular actors and the common Telugu folks participating in it.

 The great play back singer Ghantasala Venkateswara Rao's house was located in Mohammad Usman Road. His sons Vijayakumar and Rathnakumar were my acquaintances. I used to frequent their house till the grand man's unexpected demise. Now a multi storied complex cropped up in its place, but the name plate 'Ghantasala' was retained on the partly demolished front wall for some time. Now it must have also gone.

 The comedian Ramana Reddy's house and K.V. Reddy (a great director of Vijaya and Vauhini movies) were located in Vyasa Rao street and Murugesh Mudaliar street respectively. I have already mentioned N.T. Rama Rao's house. I made a pilgrimage to all these houses with my relatives who stayed at our house as our summer guests from coastal Andhra Pradesh.

 Somasundaram Play Ground, at the intersection of Vyasa Rao street and Hanumantha Rao street, was my most favourate spot which my childhood memories were strongly linked with. I frequented this play ground as a boy of five with my older brothers and when I was about twelve years, I was declared a sovereign republic by my parents and was allowed to go out independently and play. When I entered my late teens, here I was friends with Raj Rishi (Badri), Mahesh, his brothers Ramesh, Suresh (no more) and Satish, Jagadish and Subba Rao, Babu Rao, Ashok and Vijay, to name a few. We played Roman handles, a swinging devise. We tried out parallel bars, pull ups and weights too, dreaming to develop a six pack physique. The yearning to develop physical proportions was intense when we witnessed a matinee show of Charles Branson or Charles Heston. When we grew tired of the workouts, we played tenni koit. At the end of the match the winner of us was awarded the title king of the ring. We did not return home soon after playing or work outs. We sat on the parapet wall of the play ground and chatted. Here the word chat is a misnomer because I did the talking part mostly while my friends listened to me patiently, may be out of respect since I was the oldest among them. I was Jack of all trades but master of none. I harangued whatever little I knew to the exasperation of my friends. The annual basket ball tournaments at the play ground were of great interest for us. We used to bet as to which team would win the cup.

 Now the height of the parapet wall of the playground was raised and made sitting uncomfortable as gays and anti social elements tried to occupy them.

 Despite my boring talks and intemperate behaviour at times, the warmth of my friends was such that even after a lapse of five decades my contacts were intact.

 Lynwoods near Numgambakkam was another lovely spot, carpeted with lush grass and luxuriantly grown mango trees. Taking an evening stroll under the cool shades of the trees and showing off my smattering of Shakespeare, Milton and Shelly was my pastime, of course much to the discomfiture of my friends. Now - the Lynwoods gave way to Kandar Nagar, where the noted playback singer S.B. Balasubramaniam has a big house.

 I learnt typing at Sai Ram Typewriting Institute at Raghaviah Road for a monthly fee of Rs. 4/-. The institute was run by a burly old man with a sonorus voice. The institute was later passed into the hands of one Mr. Rajasekhar, his son or nephew. This institute disappeared with the passage of time.

 Sri Krishna Gana Sabha and Muppathamman Koil at Griffith Road were the important land marks for me. The Nefja Nataka Kala Parishath of Nellore conducted annual drama and mono acting competitions at this art theatre. The competitions began at four in the evening and continued till early in the morning. Opposite to the Gana Sabha was the

temple. , a form of Goddess Durga was the presiding deity of this temple. In the sprawling ground beside the temple eminent Carnatic musicians like M.S. Subbalalakshmi, D.K. Pattammal, M.L. Vasanta Kumari, Soolamangalam sisters, Madurai Mani Ayyar and others presented their recitals. My father Nageswara Rao, a doctor by profession was a great lover of music and used to attend the recitals. Though I did not know the rudiments of classical music, I have an ear for music which made me accompany my father to the programmes. My mother was a devotee of Muppathamman and accompanied us to the temple. She sat at the temple while myself and my father enjoyed the classical music. 

 The G.N. Chetty Road in T. Nagar was branched into South and North Crescent Road where affluent sections of the society having contacts abroad, lived. As budding philatelists, Narasimha and myself shared the roads to pick up foreign stamps from thrown away covers in the dust bins. If I went on prowling the dust bins for stamps in South Crescent Road, Narasimha tried his luck at the North Crescent Road. The next day I found myself at North Crescent one and Narasimha the South Crescent one. Sometimes we encroached into each other's territory and indulged in verbal duels, of course within the boundaries of sanity. We were not on speaking terms for a few days. But we patched up later and became friends again. This hobby continued till we crossed our late teens. 

  At Venkata Narayana Road was Dr. Natesan Park, frequented by actors Lingamurthy, Nagaiah and lyricist Pingali Nagendra Rao. I observed them sitting on a cement bench and chatting, from a distance. I never ventured to join in their conversation. Now the cement benches where they sat were gone. The infinite peace at the park also was gone as the park was reconstructed with a gym, skating pavilion and many other things to attract the youth. Yet some oldies still grace the park, may be, to relive in the past memories.

  At Sarangapani street was the house where the scholar and movie lyricist Arudra lived. At twilight the house presented a haunted look with nobody in the house. The front portion of the house was turned into a godown.

  At the fag end of G.N. Chetty Road was Vani Mahal which was a cultural centre for Telugus of the city. When there were no Telugu programmes, Tamil programmes were conducted there. I still remember my adventure of obtaining the autographs of  great Telugu actresses Savitri and Krishnakumari who were sitting in the foyer of the auditorium. When I approached them timidly, words failed me. They stopped their conversation and looked at me questioningly. I gathered my courage and said, 'Your autographs please,' Savitri and Krishnakumari smiled at me and immediately obliged. Their autographs remained with me for a long time.

 Near Gurudwara Sikh Temple there was Sun Theatre which I frequented to watch MGR movies. I bought only four anas (25 paise) ticket to be nearer to the screen to watch  my favourate hero thrashing the villains. Now Sun Plaza emerged in place of Sun Theatre.

 Andhra Social and Cultural Club at Vijayaraghava Road was one of my favourate haunts. It had a open air auditorium where I saw plays like chillarakottu Chittemma and Acharya Nagarjuna. Vanisree, the heroine of yesteryears played the lead role in Chillarakottu Chittemma play in her budding career as an actress. Here a condolence meeting on the death of Jawaharlal Nehru was held at which Jaggayya, a noted actor spoke. I still remember the way he spoke. He placed his hands on the table and leant forward a little. Then he heaved a sigh of relief and said 'antha ayipoyindi (Everything was over). His speech continued for over half an hour, extolling the virtues of Nehru. When he concluded, it took time for us to become our normal selves.

 Sapphire at MountRoad was the first 70mm threatre in India. Cleopatra was the first movie released in the theatre. It was a strictly adults only picture and persons below 18 were not allowed. I was barely 16 then and did not yet grow moustache. So I outlined thick moustache with an eye brow pencil and wore a hat. I pulled it down to cover my face partly to hide my not yet developed masculine features. I bent my head while entering the theatre. The usher at the entrance let me in with utmost respect, thinking that I was a man in my twenties. My friend Narasimha who did not like to appear older than he was, was detained by the usher and was directed to the ticket counter to take his ticket money back.

 I watched My Fair Lady, Sound of Music and Lawrence of Arabia in the theatre. Later the theatre faced some financial problems and meanwhile the Anna DMK party acquired the premises to build its party head quarters. Later it dropped its idea and now it is a vacant land, reminding the old timers of Madras of its bygone glory.

 Moor Market was also my favourate place. Though it originally housed the hawkers of Broadway, by the time I was seventeen it grew into a sprawling complex of curios, A to Z second hand items and books. I browsed musty smelling books on English literature, History and Phisophy. I also did window shopping, walking along the long corridors of the market. Dismantled steerings, gear rods, brakes, clutches and accelerators of damaged cars put up for for sale, used to catch my attention. During 1980s the Indian Railways wanted to acquire Moor Market area to expand the Madras Central Station unsuccessfully. But in May, 1985 a mysterious fire engulfed most of the Moor Market. Later the remaining structures were razed to the ground to facilitate the construction of Chennai Suburban Railway Terminus and  Reservation Complex. 

 Now Madras is gone and the Chennai sprawling with multitudes of people make it extremely difficult for an elderly person to walk on the pavements during evenings. If you are a bit slow in walking, the person behind you bawls 'Oramaa poyya (walk aside) or seegramaa poyya (walk fast). A leisurely stroll on the pavements is just a dream unfulfilled.

 If I record my memories of Madras in detail, they will run into a few hundred pages. Hence I conclude this piece just as a skit.

 When I got into my seat in the Charminar Express to Hyderabad at the end of my sojourn in Chennai, I heaved a sigh of relief reliving in the memories of Madras of my childhood.

  Yes, Tennison was right. Change is inevitable. Anything however good should not outlive its purpose. So I accept Chennai, I have to.

 Post Script: I am conscious of the fact that this piece is not comprehensive. I have no intention to present the entire old Madras and contrast it with Chennai now. I have wanted to present the old spots of Madras only in relation to my childhood and teens. These are just my stray thoughts. That's all.