Nannagaru’s( My father's) reminisces of the bygone era.
Madras in
the 1940’s.
(Madras now Chennai has been one of India's largest and most important cities for almost three centuries, Nannagaru went to secondary school in that city in the 1940's).
In a momentous
decade where the city witnessed two significant events– the second world war
and Indian independence, how was it like being a student those days?
If you were
studying in an English medium school, you were taught Maths, Physics, English
and also interestingly – British History (of course, this ended with independence).
You were also taught Sanskrit and Telugu, if you chose.
You would
walk to school, come back home for lunch, head back to school and return in the
evening – all on foot. Can’t fathom how tough it would have been in the blazing
summer and rainy seasons.
There were
student concessions on food – a meal was sold for 25 paisa. (25 paisa is one
fourth of a rupee). There were bulk discounts too- at just Rs 11/-, you could
eat two meals a day (inclusive of butter milk/ majjiga) for an entire month.
A newspaper
cost mukkanna – 3/4th of an Anna, i.e about 4 naya paisa.
The British
influence was felt everywhere. All shops had their names primarily in English (today
all shop signages in Chennai have both English and Tamil).
The landmarks
of the city were not very different from now.
The same ones…
Luz Church,
Santhome Church, Mylapore Kapaleeswar Temple, Ramakrishna Math. A tram jouney
from Luz Church to Santhome cost half an anna – 3 naya paisa.
Some new
buildings were cropping up too. Andhra Mahila Sabha , Sai Baba Temple opposite the Kapaleeswar
temple (Sai Baba had left for the heavenly abode in 1918, for a temple to be
built in faraway Madras so soon… Interesting).
The regal
house of the editor of Andhra Patrika (The leading Telugu Newspaper then), the
man who launched the pain balm – Amrutanjan embellished the area. A charitable
man, his donation helped build a park called Nageswara Rao park there.
The famous
barber’s bridge had to be crossed to go from Mylapore to the beach road. The name
has an interesting twist. Originally called Hamilton bridge, the locals
corrupted or nativised it to Ambattan bridge. Ambattan in Tamil means a barber.
And, it became barber’s bridge. Mr Hamilton must have turned in his grave many
a time because of this unimaginable insult.
This was
also the decade in which Indian independence was ringed in. Unlike these days,
there was no noise, no music, no forced show of jingoism. People would meet on
the streets, express happiness that the long aspired independence had finally
been granted and hoped that the days ahead would be better.
Nannagaru
remembers a teacher of his bringing his son to school immediately after India
became independent. The son was clad in clothes made of the colours of the
Indian flag. That was how the love for independence was shown – in a simple and
evocative manner.
So symbolic,
so simple.
Simple stories
that tell us what a genteel era that period was.
