Indeed, this column may well have been in French if events following those of September 10, 270 years ago, had played out differently. That was the day, French Admiral Mahé de la Bourdonnais received the capitulation of Madras to his forces that had begun their march on the town on September 3. That assault on Fort St. George had its genesis in France declaring war against England in March 1744, the news being received in India in September that year whereupon both Madras and Pondicherry began to make preparations for war. What followed would be considered, looking back on it all, more comic than tragic if it were not for some significant events that resulted.
Action began in 1746 with the British sending out a naval squadron to Madras and the French responding by summoning La Bourdonnais’ fleet from what is now Mauritius, the Isles de France. Both naval squadrons appeared to spend more time avoiding each other than facing the other. Eventually, to cut a long story short, when the English fleet decided it was safer to leave a virtually defenceless Madras to its fate and moved north, La Bourdonnais landed his French and African troops on September 3 on what was later to be known as the Triplicane Beach with orders to march on Fort St. George, while his fleet sailed towards it and began bombarding it. On September 8, the English began asking for the terms of surrender. Now, La Bourdonnais — who considered himself the Governor of the Isles de France, the equal of Francois Dupleix the Governor of Pondicherry — decided to play a different hand. At the end of his negotiations with the English, he said, “Gentlemen, you’ll give up your town and all within it, and I promise you, upon my Honour, to put you in Possession of it again upon the payment of the Ransom.” The English agreed.
The preamble to the terms of surrender stated, “Fort St George and the Town of Madras with their Dependencies shall Today, the 10th of September, at two o’clock in the afternoon, be put in the hands of M.de la Bourdonnais.” And, the French walked in and the English walked out, headed for Fort St. David, Cuddalore. One of the agreement’s 17 articles read: “The ransom to be Pagodas 1,100,000 (a little over £ 480,000 then) to be paid as follows: Pags. 500,000 in Europe (in five instalments starting from the fourth month) and Pags. 600,000 to be paid (in six hald-yearly instalments between 1747 and 1749).” Hostages to be given as security for the ransom were the two children of Governor Nicholas Morse (long before Cornwallis sought Tippu’s son!), two Councillors and their wives, two civil servants and two Armenians! Not stated was that La Bourdonnais was to get for himself another 100,000 pagodas. With Dupleix totally against the rendition of Madras, dreaming of empire as he was, signing of the treaty was delayed till October 10, when five more articles were added. La Bourdonnais handed over the Fort to Dupleix who had tentatively promised it to the Nawab of the Carnatic. But, once his representatives had taken over the administration of Madras, Dupleix forgot that hesitant promise and determined to stay till at least all the ransom had been paid. Whereupon the Nawab sent forth his son, Mahfuz Khan, with an army of 10,000 and more to invest Fort St. George.
When heard that French reinforcements were coming up from Pondicherry, Khan drew even his forces in Egmore to join those in San Thomé and prevent a crossing of the Adyar River. Today, as I write these lines on Monday, October 24, it is the anniversary of the Battle of the Adyar, in which a few hundred French troops and sipahis trained by them routed the Nawab’s thousands. With that victory, Dupleix repudiated the treaty he himself had ratified and declared that Madras belonged to the French East India Company representing the King of France.
October 24, 1746 is to me one of the most significant days in world history. The rout of the Nawab’s troops by Western trained sipahis and Western methods of warfare had the British raising an army of Indians in Cuddalore and then Madras, which was to become the Indian Army. This Army enabled the British to eventually defeat the French and then spread an ever widening influence in India that led to the Age of Empire, an age Dupleix and his Mme. Jeanne Begum had dreamed of. That Age, born on the banks of the Adyar, sowed the seed for all that has followed in world history.
Meanwhile, whether he liked it or not, France lost in Europe and Dupleix had to return Madras to the English under the terms of the Treaty of Aix la Chapelle, dated October 7, 1748, which, among other things, included the exchange of Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, for Madras. The English marched back in on August 21, 1749 and the French marched out. And, so you read this column in English.
The man and his nagar
Who was the Shenoy after whom Shenoy Nagar was named and was it the first of the nagars of the city, I was recently asked by a resident I met. Second things first: It was the first of the large planned lay-outs in the City which were named nagars (townships). Why the second, Nandanam Extension, did not also become a nagar I’ve never been able to find out.
As for J P L Shenoy I.C.S., he came to the Commissionership of the Corporation of Madras in 1944 from having played that role in Madura. He also came to what was a bigger city than under any previous Commissioner. It was a city that had grown by 19.93 square miles (51.6 sq km) to 49.74 sq miles (128.8 sq km). To the earlier city had been added Saidapet, Mambalam, Puliyur, Kodambakkam, Adyar and Alandur of the Saidapet Municipality, Sembiam, Aminjikarai and Velachery Panchayats, and 14 villages that had been administered by the Chingleput District Board. This area added about 110,000 people and 14,500 houses to Madras. His first task was to provide a number of civic amenities to these areas, and for this he got Rs.25 lakh sanctioned by the provincial government.
His next step was to get an urban improvement organisation established and he was instrumental in getting the Government to pass the Madras City Improvement Act in July 1945. The CIT, marking its 71st year this year, got a Board chaired by town planner M.B. Chablani to run it.
Shenoy then persuaded the Council and the Government that such a large area needed a Deputy Commissioner and had the Council appoint C. Narasimhan as its first nominee for the post.
Then, aiming at effective management, he established a Divisional Office in each of the 40 Divisions of Greater Madras with a Divisional Officer and team that would interact with the citizenry of its Division. This decentralisation ensured that rate-payers did not have to go to Ripon Building every time to seek action.
A sports enthusiast — a pillar of the Presidency Club — Shenoy had built within the year a general purpose stadium, the Nehru Stadium, and the Tennis Stadium in Egmore, the latter reflecting his passion for the game. Both celebrate 70 years this year. The record time in which both were completed had a lot to do with his having persuaded the military to lend a helping hand.
For homeless squatters, he organised a Corporation fund that sought public support and raised Rs. 5 lakh. The fund then constructed small homes with all amenities where squatters could stay for three months till they could find work and build huts at sites allotted to them.
And, he conceived the idea of developing a large middle class residential space. Unfortunately, tired by the burdens of office that saw him always on the move, Shenoy retired early, before seeing his plan become a reality. C. Narasimhan, the first non-I.C.S. man to the post, succeeded him and saw to the lay-out and completion of Shenoy’s vision. He had the development named Shenoy Nagar.
What I, however, appreciated most in unearthing Shenoy’s record was discovering his sense of history. It was on September 29, 1688, that the Corporation of Madras first met under Royal Charter, the first Corporation in India. He persuaded Mayor Dr. Syed Niyamatullah that the day should be celebrated every year. And, celebrations got off to a great start on that day in 1944 with a hugely attended public meeting in My Ladye’s Garden followed by a grand VIP dinner on the terrace of Ripon Building. This was a celebration that was held annually for many years thereafter, but, sadly, has been forgotten in recent years. A revival of remembering once again every year the founding of the oldest municipal Corporation in India would be a great idea.
But, there was controversy too
It was not all smooth sailing for Shenoy, despite all his achievements. He made the headlines in The Hindu when he drew up plans to do away with a landmark near its office. Within his first year of office, Shenoy had all the roads of the city re-laid. While this was happening, he noticed the domed water-fountain in the centre of the junction known as Round Tana. This huge Mount Road junction across from Government House and where Mount Road and Wallajah Road meet attracted a large crowd of idlers every day besides serving as a large parking lot. These ‘users’ of the space used the roadside as a latrine and, sometimes, the building itself. He decided to do away with the Vizianagaram Fountain that attracted the idlers and develop a large underground toilet beneath it, where air raid shelters had been built during World War II.
‘Foul!’ cried The Hindu . Most “unwise” it said; the proposed action would lead to a permanent foul smell in the area. Backed by the Mayor, Shenoy, however, went ahead with his scheme. The Fountain was dismantled stone by stone, reassembled in a nearby park and named the Vizianagaram Fountain. And, the underground conveniences were not only built but provided with adequate water and cleaning space. The bonus was greater parking space above ground. And there was never an odour to bother The Hindu .
