To Madras’s long list of ‘Firsts in India’, another should now be added: The founding of the Australian Alumni Association. The founders, who hope the idea will spread to other Indian cities, recently celebrated the Association’s first anniversary with a “gala” event that focused on awards to outstanding alumni achievers in various fields, ranging from business and science to social work and sport.
I was surprised by the large turnout but not surprised by the brief recollections of Australia each achiever recounted. In typically Indian academic fashion, each one spoke of his education in an Australian university and how much he or she had benefitted from it. No one spoke of the off-campus experience; only one or two offered a human touch, and they too were associated with education — one recalled an Australian who helped set up equipment for his research and who with his wife became like parents to the researcher, a researcher who also had worked as a petrol station attendant part time and tutored a few girls, and another referred to informality reflected in the use of first names. Surely there was more to Australia than all that?
Chatting to a person at my table associated with education in India. I couldn’t help but remark that these recollections had little to do with Australia, that there was so much more to Australia, and that, in typical Indian fashion, they had barely looked beyond educational institutions and where they would lead the student to. And this I blamed on the Indian educational system, which does little to turn out all-round students who look beyond their specialties. Indian curriculums are being changed, I was told; when Tamil Nadu introduces the credit system — which is being developed — there will be many options for students in higher education to widen their interests. I hope so…
…. but also wonder, unless a broad-based education is introduced at school level — where getting 90s and 100s seems commonplace — how many who go to Australia (or elsewhere for that matter) will visit such places as:
- Bowral to catch up with Bradman lore, or
- Ballarat to discover what ‘Eureka’ means to the Australians, or
- Orange to find out about ‘Banjo’ Patterson, or
- Woolgoolga to interact with the Sikh banana growers, or
- Cowra, where a revolt by Japanese prisoners-of-war is remembered so beautifully.
To me, Australia is not about its cities and the plentiful attractions they host for visitors, but it’s all about how small towns, much younger than Madras, leave alone India, preserve even small features of their heritage and promote them so loudly that even those just driving through tarry a while. And this promotion is done with so much pride. And that pride in our heritage is not what our educational system tries to instil in our students. Will that ever change? Will the Australian Alumni Association, which promises to run mentoring courses for students going to Australia, also introduce them to an Australia outside the classroom?
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Road-naming as it was
A friend rang me the other day and asked me how Rutland Gate (in Nungambakkam) got its name. My usual reference sources gave me no answer — and I doubted whether the Corporation could help her. But, I explained, roads and areas in 19th Century Madras were usually named after the persons to whose large garden houses they led or to the area a huge property covered. Or they were named after the institution or the name of the house to which they led.
Thus, Moubray’s Road (now TTK Road) led to Moubray’s Garden/ Moubray’s Cupola , owned by George Moubray. Murray’s Gate Road led to Dunmore House , the home of Leveson Granville Keith Murray, a son of the 4th Earl of Dunmore. The Leith Castle streets take their name from Leith Castle , once property of Major James Leith, to which they lead. And Adyar Gate Road led to a house that was called Adyar Gate . While Mint Street led to the Government Mint, now the Government Press.
So, the Rutland Gate Streets were probably lanes that helped divide what was once a large property, owned by a Rutland. Or, as happened occasionally, Rutland was the name of a little part of England which the owner of this property nostalgically gave it.
The practice at the time, generally, was not to give commemorative names. It’s only now that we give names like Rajiv Gandhi Salai, Jawaharlal Nehru Road, Anna Salai, etc. That’s certainly more meaningful than giving roads names of people whose only significance was that they lived there. People of some eminence or historical importance in those early years of the city, like Francis Day, Andrew Cogan and Beri Thimmappa – all three involved in the founding of the city – are still not remembered, nor are others like Thomas Munro, Alexander John Arbuthnot (though his kinsman’s business house is remembered in Arbuthnot Street which it once adjoined) or Coja Petrus Uscan, that Armenian benefactor of much in the city.
Indeed, many of the names of roads referring to persons of little significance in the past could be changed. But should not. For one important reason: old habits die hard, so do old road names. I have yet to meet a taxi driver or auto operator who knows Pasumpon Muthuramalinga (Thevar) Salai, but most of them know Chamier’s Road. Rutland Gate will long remain known by that name and not by any new Nagar it may change to. If introduction of commemorative names is thought of, it would be best to do so in the new areas of a vastly expanding city.
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Do they mean Rajaji Hall?
When Government decided to floodlight ‘Old Government House’ (Miscellany, June 8), did it by chance mean Rajaji Hall (the old Banqueting Hall ), asks reader L S Nathan and a caller whose name I did not quite catch. No, Rajaji Hall, is very much on the list. So I still await finding out what ‘Old Government House’ is!
(Above)The Chamber (Rajaji Hall) looking as it did in 1807, shortly after it was built
Meanwhile, now that Rajaji Hall that was Banqueting Hall has been mentioned, it reminds me that it was not built for entertainment though that is what its prime use was during and after the tenure of its conceiver, Lord Edward Clive, the second Lord Clive. Edward Clive loved entertaining; while living in the Fort he had entertained at Admiralty House (now the Archaeological Survey of India’s regional office), Amir Bagh (where the IOB headquarters has come up), the Fort Exchange (now the Fort Museum), and The Pantheon (where the Museum is), among other venues. But wanting more space, as his entertainment grew more lavish, and knowing London would not sanction the money if he sought it to build a partying space, he asked for sanction for a new meeting space for his Council. And it was as Council House or Council Chamber that Rajaji Hall got built and inaugurated in 1802. Additions to it were made between 1860 and 1865, resulting in today’s shape. And the Governor’s Council met there, I presume, till the new Chambers in the Fort were inaugurated in 1919, with the great hall being used for balls and banquets in the evening.
But whenever repairs and modifications were taking place in the Fort Chamber, Banqueting Hall was used by the Council. As late as a few occasions in the 1930s, Banqueting Hall served its original purpose, as one of my pictures today shows.
