That the BBC’s Tamil programme, ‘Thamizhosai’, had closed down after 76 years was a shock to Tamil listeners all over the world, particularly Sri Lankan Tamils who depended on it for news from ‘home’ during the Eelam Wars. Not remembered, except by a few, is its progenitor who later made Madras his home, S Sivapathasundaram.
‘Siva’, as I knew him when we taught journalism at the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan in Madras, he handling radio and I print, was a Ceylon Tamil lawyer who became a journalist. After editing Eezha Kesari , a literary Tamil journal, he joined Radio Ceylon in 1941, then the ‘Beeb’ in 1947. There, he found a Tamil programme being aired from 1941 as a ‘Newsletter from Ceylon’. When he took charge, he widened its scope into a pan-Tamil programme, naming it Thamizhosai, the name drawn from one of Bharati’s songs, which had said the voice of Tamil should be heard all over the world.
In 1951, Siva left the programme to Thirumalai Manivannan, D Sampathkumar and Sundaralingam (who later moved to Madras, becoming BBC correspondent here) and returned to Ceylon. In the late 1950s, finding life difficult there for Tamils, Siva and family moved to Madras, in due course becoming Indian citizens. While in London he had written a travelogue following the footsteps of Manickavasagar. Then, in 1954, in Colombo (and, simultaneously in Madras), he published Oli Parappuk Kalai (The Art of Broadcasting). Writing “a blessing note” to it, C Rajagopalachari said, “…the artistes, the writers and broadcasters who worship this God — Radio — will find this book very useful. In fact, it should have been named ‘Radio Vaadhyaar’ (Radio Teacher)…” Rajaji, no fan of radio or of cinema, added, “The book did attract me.”
When he came to Madras, Siva caught up with ‘Chitti’ PG Sundararajan, whose writing in Manikkodi he had admired. Chitti was with All India Radio, editing Vanoli into something beyond just radio programmes. Together, they collaborated on two classics, a boon to Tamil scholars, The Tamil Novel: A Century of Growth (1977) and, on the short story, Tamilil Sirukathai — Varalaarum Valarchiyum . The two authors were described as “the Beaumont and Fletcher of Tamil literary criticism”.
Siva never quite lost touch with radio and was often heard on AIR Madras, Trichy and Madurai. Of particular note were his live commentaries on the last journeys of Kamaraj and Annadurai.
In 2000, he passed away in London, where his two children were. Thamizhosai was still on air; he’d be happy up there that he was not around when it went off air.
When the postman knocked…
Today’s responses, following my promise last week, are to my April 24 focus. Long interested in the ancient happenings of the Coromandel and Fisheries’ Coasts, I didn’t wait for the postman and went to a lecture titled ‘The Coromandel Coast’, most appropriately held on the beach sand at the Yacht Club’s Annexe. Curiously, it focussed on the Roman finds in South India — and those resulted mainly from traders arriving on the West, or Malabar, Coast. Sadly, even though focussed on that coast, no credit was given to the Arabs in whose trading dhows the Romans must have arrived. There was also no answer to my question what Tamil ships were like.
Marine-engineer-turned-history-buff KRA Narasiah had earlier sent this answer: “Tamil ships were not really large-sized boats. Archaeological evidence in Borobudur points to a ship with an outrigger. They could, therefore, not have been more than 300-tonnes-carrying vessels. They had prows on both ends, therefore, no fixed head or stern. The heavy outrigger was fixed on one side, always on the weather side. The boat was turned 180 degrees with steering oars, when the weather changed. The rudderless Tamil boats used only steering rudders. According to the late Prof B Arunachalam of Bombay University, a typical padagu was 100-ft long. We know definitely that Tamils sailed mostly eastwards between 7 and 9 degree latitudes and did not, normally, cross these latitudes. Many Tamil zealots disagree with me.” Do those who disagree think a 300-tonne load ship of 100 feet length could conquer oceans, leave alone empires?
I don’t know whether numismatist R Krishnamurthy thinks that is possible, but he sent me pictures of Pallava coins whose reverse carry images of two-masted ships. He also said the Satavahanas issued many “ship-type coins”. But, are these ships capable of conquering the seas and lands further than Sri Lanka? I don’t for a moment doubt India’s ancient maritime heritage — that’s the only thing that can explain the extent of Indian influence in South and Southeast Asia — but I’d still like to see a depiction of an Indian ship (particularly from the Coromandel Coast), which could sail the oceans to distant lands with a full complement of sailors, troops and supplies.
The chronicler of Madras that is Chennai tells stories of people, places and events from the years gone by, and sometimes, from today.
