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A term in Chennai: the fish wives of Marina market

15/2/2017

Chennai's fish sellers have been having a tough time - an oil spill has led to fears of contamination and a slump in sales, and protests last month on the beach nearby (against a ban on the traditional sport of bull taming) resulted in the burning down of one of the main fish markets ... apparently by the police. But this fish market at the beach end of Lloyds Road was going strong when I passed by.

It had a good range of fish, prawns and crabs and no shortage of customers.

There's a clear division of labour in fishing - I've noticed this in the Ghanaian port of Takoradi, and at the Zero Bridge market in Srinagar as well. Those who do the fishing are men ... those who sell the catch are women. I get the distinct impression that the women have the upper hand. Fish wives are formidable wherever in the world you find them!

The Wiki entry on fish wives asserts: In the 18th century, fishwives frequently appeared in satires as fearsome .... Their vigorous and decisive mien was contrasted with that of politicians who were, by contrast, portrayed as vacillating and weak.

Yes, I guess that could apply to 21st century Tamil Nadu too,

But let's not forget the fishermen - I came across these guys at Elliot's beach, and enjoyed a great crab curry there.

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A term in Chennai: the 'lost' Jewish cemetery

13/2/2017

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'Beit Ha Haim' - the house of life; a Hebrew euphemism for a cemetery. This 'house of life' is a last testament to a community that is all but gone.

Chennai/Madras was once a major commercial hub of the British Empire, and along with cities such as Mumbai/Bombay, Calcutta, Rangoon and Singapore, it had a trading community of Baghdadi Jews. Here in Chennai, the community seems to have been small - mainly dealing in diamonds and coral, which didn't prove to be the most enduring aspects of the city's economy. So by the late nineteenth century, the community had largely dispersed. The synagogue has long since disappeared, and Chennai's established Jewish community is now said to be in single figures.

But there is still, wonderfully, a Jewish cemetery - though it's tiny and reputed to be so difficult to find that it's all-but-lost in one of the more crowded corners of the city.

There's nothing like a challenge - so the other day, I ventured along Lloyds Road on the look out for a Star of David. And I found it! (Directions below if you are on the same trail). The woman selling fish and vegetables just by the locked blue gate gave the caretaker, Kumari, a quick call. Within half-an-hour, she was there ... tackling the double set of padlocks ... and welcoming me in to a fairly barren but well tended burial ground recently painted in a fetching sky blue.

This is not the original site of the cemetery - it's moved, perhaps twice, and appears to have relocated here in the 1980s. This seems to be the spot for burial grounds - there are apparently Chinese and Baha'i cemeteries nearby. Only a handful of the older Jewish graves remain. The grandest, dating from 1745, is that of Abraham Salomons, one of the principal coral merchants - there's still a Coral Merchants Street in the George Town district of the city.

One of the most affecting graves is that of a young woman who died in her early twenties - and thanks to the internet, it's possible to say a little bit more about her than the bare details on the gravestone.

Victoria 'Toyah' Sofaer was born in Baghdad. The surname Sofaer is conspicuous in Baghdadi Jewish communities - indeed a Sofaer in Calcutta became a leading actress (the Jewish community being a little less conservative).

According to this genealogical site, the family aren't aware of where Toyah is buried. I do hope they get to see this photo.

There has, it seems, just been one burial since the cemetery moved to Lloyds Road - Eileen Joshua who died in 1997 at the age of 68. And I guess it's unlikely that this burial plot will ever be full.

And here's how to find the cemetery ...

This isn't the last word as maps go - but I hope it will suffice. Lloyds Road is now known as Avvai Shanmugam Salai. If you start from the beach heading west, you walk past the Marina fish market, cross over the open drain that's marked, and the cemetery is another fifty yards on along this increasingly congested market street and on your right.

Kumari, the caretaker, doesn't speak English - but the local stallholders (who also don't have English but were both friendly and helpful when I turned up out of the blue) know her mobile number. If she is summoned, she will of course expect a tip - and while whatever you give is unlikely to be acknowledged as sufficient, she seems as far as I can tell to do a good job. And she doesn't get many visitors.

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A term in Chennai: to fast or not to fast

12/2/2017

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It's going to be an eventful day here as the liveliest political drama India has seen for a long time gets increasingly tense.

It's all about who succeeds the late Jayalalithaa as Tamil Nadu's chief minister. She was a former film star who became a hugely successful populist-style politician. Her live-in aide, friend and advisor, Sasikala - that's her on the right - has the support of most of the party's legislators.

But the mild-mannered caretaker chief minister, OPS, dramatically rebelled last week, saying he would be a better protector of Jayalithaa's legacy. He did so after a forty-minute meditation at Jayalalithaa's grave, an event which is already featuring in the wall posters - with the former chief minister, who died in December, seeming almost to rise from the dead to give benediction to her chosen one.

But, just to make things more complicated ... much more complicated ... OPS had by then submitted his resignation as chief minister (under duress, he now says) in favour of, yes, Sasikala.

And ... an added bit of spice ... Sasikala is involved in a corruption-related legal case on which the Supreme Court is expected to pass judgement as early as Tuesday. The state governor, who decides who should be asked to form the government, has made clear he doesn't want to swear in Sasikala as chief minister if there's a chance should could be disqualified a day or two later.

Support is starting to drain from Sasikala - a few more defections from her ranks, and (when opposition parties' votes are also taken into account) she may not have a majority in the state assembly. Public opinion seems to be against her - 'she's vicious', one passer-by told me, 'and her family will loot the state'.

The word among the throng of journalists who are devouring every morsel of this political scrap is that Sasikala may press her demand to be named as chief minister by staging a Gandhi-style public hunger strike. Where? Well quite possibly at Jayalalithaa's grave on the sea front. That's where all the action is! Walking around the beach area this morning, I saw clear signs that the police are ready to deal with any protests that turn unruly.

For the news media, it's a dream come true. Satellite vans, camera crews and curious passers-by are congregating outside Sasikala's home in Poes Garden - the home she used to share with Jayalalithaa.

And she does have some public support - this group of Sasikala loyalists, on their way to her home, were keen I took their photo.

A mile or two away, outside OPS's home on Greenways Road, his supporters put on a more exuberant display - complete with drummers, dancing and all the tamasha you associate with Indian politics. 'Go through', urged the woman police officer at the end of the road, ' you will enjoy it!'

And of course, while Jayalithaa's old party tears itself apart, rival parties are sitting back and enjoying the spectacle - and adding to the mischief every so often. So the politician with most to gain is M.K. Stalin, the leading figure in Tamil Nadu's main opposition party (in case you are wondering, he was born in the week that Josef Stalin died and named after him). Keep tuned in!

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A term in Chennai: India's oldest bookshop

9/2/2017

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In 1844, Abel Joshua Higginbotham - what a glorious name - established a bookshop in Madras. It's still there, buffeted by the building of the Chennai metro, but on a great location on Mount Road, now Anna Salai.

Higginbotham's has a claim to be India's oldest bookshop, and was until the 1990s apparently the country's largest too. 'Altogether a delightful place for the casual browser and serious book lover', Lord Trevelyan declared in 1859.

The store moved out of family ownership in the 1920s but remains distinctly old school.

How many stores have sepia portraits of their founding fathers on display? How many find space for a grandfather clock?

Is there any other bookshop anywhere in the world which has such splendid stained glass?

Higgenbotham's is cavernous, and just a touch chaotic. But not quite as antediluvian as I had expected. Thought quite how it manages to survive, I'm not sure. I've heard that it does a good trade in school textbooks.

Long may its shelves remain stocked!

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A term in Chennai: losing face

8/2/2017

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Tamil politics is a touch turbulent just at the moment. The personality cult rules in this part of south India. And when one of the towering political personalities leaves the scene, there's mayhem.

Thirty years ago, on the death of the film-star-turned-chief-minister MGR, there was a right old ding-dong to claim his political legacy. Jayalalithaa came out on top. MGR was her mentor (and perhaps more) and her leading man - literally so, they acted in dozens of movies together. Jayalalithaa proved that she could do populist personality-based politics even better than her guru.

Two months back, Jayalalithaa died. There was no clear political heir. The caretaker chief minister, OPS (full name on request), was a Jayalalithaa loyalist who was seen simply as an inoffensive choice to fill in for a while. At the weekend, acting under duress it now appears, he submitted his resignation - in favour of Sasikala, Jayalalithaa's closest aide, friend and confidante, but someone who has never stood for elected office and has not held any formal position in government. Not all the party faithful are delighted. Sasikala has a troubled reputation; she lacks Jayalalithaa's appeal and authority; she comes across as a little dour; even the political epithet she has been given - Chinamma (or little mother) to Jayalalithaa's Amma (mother) - is a diminutive.

Within hours of this meticulously prepared palace coup, posters went up across Chennai praising Sasikala (below in the green sari) and positioning her as Jayalalithaa's chosen one. Within another few hours, many of these posters had been carefully and clinically defaced ... Jayalalithaa's likeness was untouched but Sasikala had become faceless.

We were all waiting to hear when Sasikala would be sworn-in as chief minister - and whether a corruption-related legal case in which she is implicated could derail things. Then late last night, OPS - the quiet, self-effacing, stand-in chief minister - staged an act of huge political drama. Whoever knew he had it in him! Without warning, he went to Jayalalithaa's grave, sat in solitary communion there for forty minutes - just enough time for the press and camera teams hurriedly to gather there - and then planted the flag of rebellion against Sasikala. He told the waiting press that he had been humiliated by his colleagues, forced to resign as chief minister, but was concerned above all about protecting Jayalalithaa's legacy and would be willing to retract his resignation if that's what people wanted.

I'm trying to think of a British political analogy which would capture the drama, surprise and suspense - nothing quite does it. It's on a par with Gove shafting Boris - except you always knew that Gove was a Brutus, while OPS always seemed so innocuous.

But Sasikala has not spent decades at Jayalalithaa's right-hand without learning some of the dark arts of politics. She immediately sacked OPS as the ruling party's treasurer and let it be known that all but one of the party's legislators - OPS, one assumes, being the odd one out - were with her. But are they? And will they stay that way? This political potboiler has quite a way to go - keep tuned!

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A term in Chennai: missing the Armenians

5/2/2017

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It is wonderful to be able to visit for a second time an enchanting spot to which you never expected to return. I first came across the bewitching Armenian church in Chennai - and blogged about it - two years ago. This morning, with a friend, I was back there.

It's still tranquil - and grotesquely under-appreciated. On a Sunday morning, there was only one other visitor - a young man from Kerala. The church dates from the eighteenth century and contains 300 or so graves of Armenians who were once an important trading community in Madras.

Chennai's Armenians are long gone. The church caretaker is a Catholic and Anglo-Indian. But there's still, just, an Armenian community in Calcutta, in what was the second city of the British Empire. And the previous day, a priest and thirty or so people of Armenian descent had flown in for a few hours from Bengal, and held the first act of worship in this church for a year or two.

A pity to have missed this landmark occasion - but the caretaker told us all about it and shared some photos on his mobile phone. As you can see, it was a service with all the trappings.

I have been to Armenian churches in three South Asian cities - Calcutta and Rangoon/Yangon as well as here in Chennai. (I believe there's a church in Dhaka that I have yet to see.) This is perhaps the nicest, and so heartening that it continues, just now and again, to echo to Armenian liturgy.

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A term in Chennai: homage to Annie Besant

4/2/2017

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Great to come across Annie Besant here in Chennai. From my work on late-Victorian British radicalism, I know - and admire - Annie as a campaigning freethinker, socialist, advocate of birth control and activist in trade unions for women and the unskilled.

She was impetuous and courageous - walking out on her abusive clergyman husband, and then losing custody of her two children largely because of her atheism.

Her life was very much in two acts (three if you include her rather sheltered upbringing and unhappy marriage). In 1889, she reviewed two volumes by one of the founders of Theosophy, H.P. Blavatsky, met her and became her disciple. Annie's freethinking, radical colleagues - Charles Bradlaugh among them - were horrified.

Four years later, Annie Besant made the journey to India - which was to become her principal home for the last forty years of her life. For much of that time she lived in Adyar on the outskirts of Madras/Chennai, in what is now the sprawling, enticing, global headquarters of the Theosophy movement. She was cremated here too.

The bust stands in the main hall of the Theosophy Society HQ. Nice to see you, Annie!

I suppose I ought to attempt to explain Theosophy. It respects all faiths - and in the grounds of the headquarters there are temples, churches and shrines of all the world's main religions. The society's three objectives - the only values and beliefs that adherents are required to subscribe to - are:

   + to form a nucleus of the Universal Brotherhood of Humanity, without distinction of race, creed, sex, caste or colour

  + to encourage the study of Comparative Religion, Philosophy, and Sciences

  + to investigate unexplained laws of nature and the powers latent in men

The key figures in the establishment of the Theosophical movement were from Europe and North America, and it was in some ways a manifestation of Orientalism, albeit one respectful of Eastern belief systems.

Blavatsky's impulse to establish the Theosophy Society came from a visit to India - and while the movement was founded in New York in 1875, its headquarters were from an early date in South Asia. Although not core to Theosophy's beliefs, it is widely seen as tinged by spiritualism and occultism. While a theosophist, Besant also embraced the occult, clairvoyance and (this really does seem bizarre, but there you go) freemasonry.

But don't rely on my inexpert account - here's the link to the Theosophy Society's website: http://www.ts-adyar.org/

The society's grounds - only open for a few hours a day - are magical, with banyan trees, palm groves and gentle jungle, sprinkled with places of worship and busts of founding fathers. There's an excellent bookshop, and no-one tries to proselytise.

For me, part of the magic was following in the footsteps of some whose lives I have researched: the socialist novelist Margaret Harkness came here about 110 years ago to meet up with Annie Besant; 25 years later, Freda Bedi's husband-to-be, B.P.L. Bedi, came to Adyar to seek, and receive, Besant's benediction before setting sail for Europe.

Theosophy feels a little bit like the Esperanto movement - born out of a sense of optimism and an impulse towards universal brotherhood, but never quite making it into the mainstream ... and now just hanging on, its best years long since gone.

I keep getting drawn back, though, to Besant. From the moment she set foot in India, she regarded herself as Indian and championed its interests over that of the imperial power which was her native country. In India, she dressed and ate in the Indian style. She championed social welfare, the reform movement within Hinduism, higher education, and was so forceful and prominent within Indian nationalism that she was prohibited from some Indian provinces . She enjoyed a spell as a highly visible and active president of the Indian National Congress - the movement which led India to independence.

Alongside this remarkable range of activism, she was distrustful of mass political mobilisations and of universal suffrage. While she admired Gandhi, she didn't agree with him. By the end of her life, she was sharply out of step with the increasingly strident tone of India's national movement.

As I work on a biography of Freda Bedi - another Englishwoman who made a life-long commitment, personal, spiritual and political, to India - understanding something of Annie Besant's story offers an insight into this profound identification with another country and culture.

As Freda made her choice to be Indian, she would have been aware of Annie Besant, and of others such as Gandhi's assistant, Madeleine Slade. It would have offered her reassurance - she was not the first, and she was not alone.

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A term in Chennai: Amma is still with us

1/2/2017

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Two months after she died, the image of Jayalalithaa is still evident everywhere in Chennai. She spent a total of fourteen years as chief minister of Tamil Nadu state and was in office when she died at the age of 68. 'Amma', she's universally known as - the Tamil word for mother.

She had a turbulent political career - and was jailed at one time on corruption charges and more recently was disqualified from office while facing an accusation of having 'disproportionate assets' (she was eventually acquitted). She was a populist, highly regarded - especially beyond Chennai - for her social welfare schemes and seen as a champion of Tamil culture and interests, able to stand up to the largely North Indian political elite in Delhi.

Jayalalithaa's grave - she was buried, which is unusual for Hindus, who normally practice cremation - has become a pilgrimage spot. It's just by Marina beach, looking out on the Bay of Bengal. When I went, there were dozens of families coming on days out, with flowers to leave as a sign of reverence, and taking photos of themselves alongside their hero's likeness.

Her burial place stands alongside the petal-like modernist memorial to her political patron and mentor, MGR (M.G. Ramachandran) - the first Indian film star to rise to the top ranks of politics. He remains a Tamil cultural icon. Thirty years older than Jayalalithaa, the two starred in many Tamil movies - in all, she appeared in 140 films. It's difficult to be sure just how close the two were. But when MGR died in 1987, she inherited his political mantle - and never looked back.

But who will inherit Jayalithaa's political legacy? There's much talk that Jayalalithaa's closest friend and confidante, Sasikala, will make her move. She's already been named the party's general secretary. The nature of the relationship between the two women is opaque - one of my students suggested they could best be described as 'soul sisters'.

Sasikala has the loyalty of many of the party's faithful, some of whom are extravagant in their demonstrations of support. But she's doesn't enjoy anything like the same level of public affection. Her reputation has been tarnished by suggestions of extravagance and nepotism.

The rival dynasty in Tamil politics - the nonagenarian M. Karunanidhi and his son and political heir, Stalin (repeat, Stalin) - are biding their time, Tamil Nadu is one of India's bigger states and whoever rules here has influence at national level too. And in this highly political south-east corner of the country, everyone's waiting for the post-Amma political danse macabre to get underway.

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A term in Chennai: the fish wives of Marina market

A term in Chennai: the 'lost' Jewish cemetery

And here's how to find the cemetery ...

A term in Chennai: to fast or not to fast

A term in Chennai: India's oldest bookshop

A term in Chennai: losing face

A term in Chennai: missing the Armenians

A term in Chennai: homage to Annie Besant

A term in Chennai: Amma is still with us

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