The incessant horn of a train disrupts the calm of the morning. A restaurant van arrives noisily, bringing with it the aroma of sambhar. An elderly couple scurries to catch a train that’s about to chug off, even as a group of youngsters indulging in casual banter walks ahead purposefully.
I’m observing life at Beach Station early on a Sunday morning, as Chennai is waking up to yet another hot day. If you were on this road in the 1900s, you might have been visiting Parry and Co., a leading establishment which has become synonymous with the area’s current name — Parrys. More than 200 years since it came into being, it is the second-oldest British-established business in India in continued existence.
You’d have been close to the border of the White Town and Black Town, the way Madras was divided back then. The boundary marker of the White Town is still intact outside the Dare House. I wonder about the name, and Vijay Prabhat Kamalakara of Storytrails, who takes groups on walks along this stretch, explains, “The upper floors of the building were let out to other companies, which weren’t too happy with Parry and Co. in their letterheads. So, it was named after John Dare, a partner.”
Right opposite is Burma Bazaar, and as I stroll along the line of empty shops, I wonder how chaotic this place would be on a working day. “What do you want?,” asks a suspicious shopkeeper, who is busy cleaning racks of CDs and mobile phone covers. I move on.
After a quick stop-over at Emden spot (a plaque that gives details of the Emden Bombing of 1914) and a leisurely stroll, I reach the entrance of Fort St. George, which was — and remains — the seat of power. Sunday mornings are the best time to explore the Fort; the sights and sounds of the St. Mary’s Church inside are quite something to take in. But the security checks at the entrance are quite stringent, as the Fort houses three power centres: the Secretariat, the Army and the ASI.
The Fort is a treasure trove of stories, and if you read up on the history of Madras, every building here has a tale to tell. Like the cenotaph (of Cornwallis) that greets you at the entrance or the ASI office that used to be Robert Clive’s residence for a while.
I head out and walk towards Napier Bridge, taking in Chennai (grungy Sathya Nagar near the Port Gate) and Madras (the War Memorial) simultaneously. The Marina Kart Arena draws my attention. I find a lone biker trying out some dirt biking on the track. “He’s practising for the big match in Sriperumbudur,” informs Mekala Sadasivam, as she watches her son Varun accelerate. For car enthusiasts who think they have to go all the way to ECR for a taste of karting, this place holds some promise.
Napier’s Bridge (named after Francis Napier who built it in 1869) is a photographer’s delight, at whatever time of the day you visit. “It’s a perfect selfie spot,” says marketing executive Kumar, who has stopped to take some photos. Indeed it is.
I venture out into the small space between the two roads in the bridge. There, at about 6.28 p.m. at this time of the year, you can watch the sunset and feel the rumble of the vehicles passing on both sides. It’s beautiful, really.
If you’re into films, like I am, you are likely to check out the MGR Memorial. Family photoshoots take place on the lawns. Die-hard fans still vouch that they can hear the former Chief Minister/actor’s watch ticking, and so you see people bending down, hoping to hear it. Surely, there cannot be anything more filmi than that.
I stroll across to the Triumph of Labour statue, just across the towering Madras University building, and spot a couple from the Northeast, trying desperately to bargain with a local flower seller over mallipoo. The seller offers to help the girl tie it to her hair. She smiles gratefully. The goodness of Madras that is Chennai is still very much intact.
