A street inseparably bound to the soul of Kozhikode city

Mitthai Theru aka S.M. Street is a melting pot of the city’s culture, even as it remains its commercial hub. The Chief Minister is opening the renovated street tomorrow

Alive with history: S.M. Street has strong links with arts, literature and theatre.

S.M. Street is not merely a street. It is the heartbeat of Kozhikode.

It is a melting pot of the city’s culture too, even as it remains its commercial hub. And it is difficult to imagine any other street that is as inseparably linked with the soul of a city.

“I don’t think you would find such a street anywhere else in the world,” says writer U.A. Khader. “It has played a major role in shaping the city’s unique cultural identity.”

He remembers meeting writers like M.T. Vasudevan Nair, S.K. Pottekkatt, Uroob, Akkitham, N.V. Krishna Warrier and Thikkodiyan there. “The writers would meet at a small shop, called the Sayvinte Peedika near Radha Theatre,” he says. “Then we would go to Hotel Arya Bhavan, which was famous those days for serving Gujarati meals.”

Neelakkuyil

It was from one of the rooms at Arya Bhavan Lodge that

Neelakkuyil , the film that changed the destiny of Malayalam cinema, took wings. “Director A. Vincent had once told me that he held the first ever discussion on making

Neelakkuyil at Arya Bhavan,” recalls journalist and author Ravi Menon. “P. Bhaskaran and Uroob were also at that meeting.”

S.M. Street has a strong connection with theatre too. Actor and director Joy Mathew staged a play there, nearly four decades ago.

“I think it was probably the first ever street play in Kerala,” he says.

“The play about a farmer of Gudalur, written by an anonymous author, was staged at the Kidson Corner. I directed it; one of my co-stars in the play was Yakoob, K. Ajitha’s husband.”

S.M. Street’s tryst with theatre goes further back, to people like Vasu Pradeep, a dramatist and director who never got his due. One recalls meeting him at his unpretentious studio, Pradeep Arts, at the S.M. Street several years ago.

Bhasi Malaparamba, a seasoned football writer, used to associate closely with Vasu. “I was a theatre actor those days; Balan K. Nair was a regular visitor,” he reminisces. “I was studying at the Government Polytechnic then and used to practise football at the Mananchira Ground near S.M. Street. After football, we all used to go to Hotel Lucky Star, which was renowned for its biryani.”

To director Hariharan too, S.M. Street brings memories of great food. “I often used to go to S.M. Street, from my hometown of Thamarassery, to watch films at Radha Theatre, have food at Arya Bhavan or Hotel Modern, getting clothes stitched by Purushu and having photographs taken at Peethambar Studio,” he says. “Music also used to be in the air there, at the Saraswathi Musical Store, which used to function opposite the Hanuman Temple.”

Space for marginalised

S.M. Street, Mathew adds, also used to welcome anarchists and the marginalised. “You would meet people of all kinds there,” he says. “Naxalites, sex workers and those with alternate sexuality...all of them were there.”

Even cabaret used to be staged at a couple of hotels. Stripteases by beautiful women, mostly from States like Goa, used to be popular.

“One of the managers in charge of cabaret shows was a small-time actor, Siddique Karaparamba,” recalls Ravi. “He was a tall, good-looking chap. After watching Clint Eastwood in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly , he somehow managed to get a horse and rode on it along S.M. Street, wearing a hat. A film magazine wrote an article, headlined the Cowboy of Karaparamba.”

S.M. Street has many more such tales to tell. That is one of the reasons why it will always remain the soul of this city.