It’s a living museum

At Urur Kuppam, you get close to the vibrant life of the fisherfolk, as it has been lived for centuries. It’s like strolling through a museum without walls

At Urur Kuppam

At the Elliot's beach, our eyes are used to the Schmidt memorial, the police booth, promenade walkers, well-fed families disgorged by monster SUVs, senior citizens, crowds of college kids, birthday bashes and the countless vendors creating a carnival on and off the sands. But that Saturday morning, our clean-up drive took us to a side of the beach we hadn't been to — Urur Kuppam, the official cleaning crew's no-go area. No matter, we shrugged. Among us, we had a hundred hands, four garbage trucks, a bobcat and a JCB. In two hours, the garbage got lifted, and then we saw it: a way of life going back a thousand years.

Eric Miller, Director, World Storytelling Institute, calls this a living museum. “A ‘living museum’ is that in which the objects on display are still in everyday use, and the museum guides include members of the community,” he says. It is a dynamic museum without walls, where the local community celebrates, mourns, worships, sings/dances and makes artefacts. It is a symbol of cultural vibrancy — in its festivals, performances, clothes, cuisine, and places of worship. It is a living heritage, a unique identifier. It displays the natural environment of a historical setting. In a living museum, a visitor gets total immersion in a specific culture, experienced through sights, smells, tastes and sounds. Talk to the locals, and you get a present, first-person, authentic account of a life lived for centuries.

Like in our kuppam that morning. It has everything a kid would draw to depict a beach scene — the powered and non-powered fishing boats, catamarans, nets large and small, drying surfaces, goats and a temple for the goddess who keeps a watchful eye on fishers venturing into the unpredictable sea. The “members of the community” took us around, answered questions about their life, told us of their problems and posed for photographs.

In 2007, an effort was made to preserve it. A series of workshops explored the possibility of declaring the tradition of sea-fishing and sea-travel as ‘heritage’, and places such as Ayodhyakuppam, Nochikuppam and Dooming Kuppam ‘living museums.’ The workshops, hosted by the Department of Geography, University of Madras, drew members of Chennai's fishing communities, members of the World Storytelling Institute and the public as audience. There was even talk of creating and maintaining living museums.

Fishing villages are part of a city’s cultural map, is the argument. Chennai began as a village beside the sea, and fishing was a primary occupation here. The Elliot's beach area was known as Amaiyur (place of Turtles). Fishing hamlets give the city its unique character, give proof of its historical past. Chennai's coastal kuppams talk of its strong sea-faring saga, its maritime march through the ages. Preserving these fishing “museums” is showing respect to the coastal people's right to live by the sea, their right to determine how their lives should be. When we demolish fishing kuppams or re-build them to suit the city's whims, we don't just bulldoze the hundreds of fishing boats or a thriving fish market; we destroy entire neighbourhoods and a cultural identity. “The best development of our beaches would be no development. This beach should be in its timeless natural pristine state. I've seen men sitting on the smooth stone area of the promenade, repairing a fishing net.”

There’s also a 30-minute folk musical called

The Sea Story , prepared by members of the community in collaboration with professional actors/writers. “Performed numerous times, it tells the story of a fisherman who, after putting his children to bed, goes out in his boat, and is lost at sea. He is rescued by a sea turtle, and the man appears at his own funeral. In the course of the play, four folksongs are sung: a lullaby, a rowing anthem, a lament and a celebratory chorus.” Many of the youth in Chennai's sea-fishing communities may not take up fishing as an occupation. But declaring kuppams as living museums will put a spotlight on their community's traditions and this will spark culture tourism that the young will be happy to promote.

It is in this context that the Urur-Olcott Margazhi Vizha (January 15 and 16) gains significance. The “other” music festival at the Urur Kuppam will infuse the “classical” with a strong whiff of the “local” in a music and dance performance by the sea. It is a vizha where the land and sea breezes will mingle, each benefiting from its association with the other — a vizha that will bring to us our culture in entirety. Don't miss the “two nights at the museum”!