OLD ARCHITECTS OF MADRAS

Silence is golden ...

GRAFFITI – CHOLA STYLE

A minute or two into his presentation, Pradeep Chakravarthy broke into a song. It was actually a wonderful rendition of a verse by Sundaramurthy Nayanar on the life and times of the Chola period – life and times of a city that was not yet Madras, but bears such a resemblance to the life and times of these days. If you are wondering if it was a musical drama on the life and times of Madras during the Chola era, you are wrong.

It was a perfect presentation, as perfect as you get them. The villages, spreading from Tiruvottriyur to Mylapore – of the modern day, of course – were the samples of a republican form of government gained root. Yes, the vastness of the kingdom meant that the king was only a titular head, of course more powerful than the rubber stamps we have today. Everyone down the line handled their responsibilities admirably and with such integrity. The fear of punishment even drove a few to suicide.

It is a rather surprising revelation from Pradeep that the percentage of religious and mythological detail in the inscription on the walls of the villages – during the Chola era – was zero! The inscriptions, mainly in Tamil and Sanskrit with a bit of Telugu or Kannada thrown in detail more of the social life and governance of those days. Such a treasure is often lost to renovation and modernization – irrevocably most of the times. Most of these inscriptions talk of gifts made to the kingdom, landmark judgments, landholdings, etc.

These inscriptions were found in places as far as Manali, Tiruvottriyur, Mylapore, Tiruvallikeni, and many more. Most importantly, all these spoke of things that happened far and wide. For example, you could find an inscription in Manali about some aspect of life in faraway Thiruvidanthai, on ECR of today!

The territorial divisions according to the inscriptions were country, state (known as mandalam), district (kutram, Kottam, or valanadu), taluk (nadu), city (tani ur), town (agaram, mangalam) and village (ur) – I simply hope that I have got them right. Administration was through a mix of central authority and regional autonomy. Overall administration rested with the Alunganathars (Executive Committees); the Eri Variyam took care of lakes and water bodies; the Pon Variyam checked the quality of the gold donated/paid to the Mahasabha.

Temple properties were probably managed by the committees in Manali and Velacheri, the collection of dues was the responsibility of Tirusulam, Velacheri and Koyambedu and the policing was done by the kavalkarars of Tiruvottriyur. Taxes were collected from land owners, who were both private and communal. Land could be sold to anyone. The rough calculation was that you could get a kilo of rice for what would be 0.0001 paise!

The major professionals of those times were weavers, gold- and blacksmiths, oil mongers, watchmen, upperalathan (salt pan worker), potter, merchants (They even had guilds, and had understanding with other guilds too. They also offered protection to immigrants called nanadesis!), devadasis and savarnnas (doctors!). The first strike recorded during those times was the one called and observed by the devadasis! In fact, intervention of many levels did not assuage the devadasis; they repeatedly went on strike. Only the intervention of the king finally led to some semblance of agreement.

While inscriptions still have so many stories to tell, Pradeep is rightly saddened and aghast at the fact that whatever little we have are being lost to modernity. Even in those days, there were inscriptions that were older inscriptions – they just mentioned that they were copies of some earlier inscription that should not be lost to renovation. That foresight and awareness is sadly lacking today, and any conservation always begins with a round of sand-blasting – a sure way to lose them permanently.

And when Pradeep ended with an appeal to preserve the inscriptions, the rather respectable crowd was awaiting with questions. His presentation was lucid, very understandable and not heavy at all on the crowd considering the rather historical nature of the subject. He took questions with aplomb, and unlike most erudite history researchers, was quick to accept that he did not know some facts.

The end of another wonderful evening, when Pradeep began with a bang and ended with, er, another bang, left me wondering with another small matter. Pradeep is one helluva speaker, but I would love to have him sing too – given his multifaceted nature, I am sure he can wear two hats at the same time and look handsome too!

I am not sure this is as accurate as the subject deserves – these are only notes of what I heard and what found a place in my scrapbook. Apologies in advance if any errors have crept in – these are purely by oversight and unintentional.

NALLA PRESENTATION-NA, YES, IDHU THAAN

It is often said – and I have had quite a few experiences myself – that a good writer does not always make a good speaker, though there are a hazaar exceptions. This was at the back of my mind as I walked in to the third lecture of the Madras Musings Lecture Series. This was a talk on Tanglish in Tamil Movies by the noted film critic and that wonderful writer, Baradwaj Rangan.

I have known Baradwaj just a bit from my freelancing days when Samanth used to write for Brahmma Features; we would have said a fleeting ‘Hi’ just that once or twice. But I have always loved his columns and reviews – that was one reason I did not want the theory of good writers to be proved.
Baradwaj, it is surprising, as I heard out Sriram introduce him, has done quite a bit that I had not suspected. An engineering degree, a Masters in the US, an advertising career, IT career, and finally into journalism.

It all, however, began on the wrong foot – the audio refused to make a noise about thirty seconds into the presentation. It took a rather long ten minutes and a possible ingenious solution to get the audio fixed. It was really no looking back from there.

Baradwaj, like most speakers – more like most gifted writers – had his presentation segmented very properly. He played a few clips, talked a bit, then played a few clips, talked a bit – the talking was about the reason why Tanglish was there in the dialogue or the song that was played. He started off about his conversation with Thamarai, that lyricist who refuses, and rightly so, to use non-Tamil words in her film songs. Apparently, Thamarai, just before hanging up on the phone, asked Baradwaj “Idhu than ungal enna?” That set the perfect tone of what justification existed for use of non-Tamil words in films.

He had the reasons well researched; the clips to go with these were masterfully selected. As was his manner of presentation. One reason for Tanglish, he said, was youth. Youth tend to go hip-hop with their lingo too, interspersing the local language with the foreign one, in this case interspersing Tamil with English. Sometimes, youth also meant club dances, where Tamil was a strict no-no in films; sometimes it was considered anti-Tamil kalaacharam to talk in Tamil if you were an educated young thing.

The next reason was the roles played – roles of the educated and highly successful professional. Rarely do we see such a character speak in chaste Tamil throughout the movie – there are at least as many English words intertwined as there are scenes, if not more! The lack of knowledge would make these characters the target of ridicule. Also, it was a good theme to present one of the hero/heroine as a well-educated English-speaking person and the other as a country bumpkin!
Another reason Baradwaj spelt out was the upper-class background, education, and lots of money at the disposal making the character compulsive English speakers. These characters read magazines like Readers’ Digest, SPAN (sigh!), etc. And directors of these films always credited themselves with their qualifications in the titles!

Generation gap was as good a reason as any to have the younger generation speak English dialogues and the older generation mouth them in Tamil. This also gave rise to several hilarious situations that were the result of Tanglish!

Use of English was also used to depict a bit of negativity, according to Baradwaj. The women were generally shown as shrews and the men as arrogant snobs. He showcased the prime example of M R Radha in Ratha-k-kaneer taking to English when he had a good life, and switching to Tamil when he actually needed help and sympathy.

Finally, Baradwaj made the moot point – English was used to bridge the gap and communicate better on screen. Some directors made a character translate the English into Tamil to another character on screen, thus ensuring the audience understood a piece of dialogue delivered in an alien tongue. And, even more hilariously, some directors had English governors and the like mouthing chaste Tamil – all for better communication with the viewer.

It was truly a memorable evening, the initial faux pas with the audio notwithstanding. Though the nervousness showed, particularly after the audio tangle, enhanced by the electrifying presence of a phalanx of film personalities led by the one and only K Balachander, Baradwaj did not let it dominate. And, it turned out exactly as I have speculated in the first paragraph about good writers making good speakers. Yes, Baradwaj joins the hazaar or so good, very good writers making good speakers. Or should we say in Tanglish “Nee oru nalla writer-nnu than nenaichen, I am surprised, nee oru romba nalla speaker kooda!”

A partial list of movies from which clippings were screened:
Punnagai Mannan
Baama Vijayam
Then Nilavu
Padiththal Mattum Podhuma
Gauravam
Pattikaada Pattanama
Ratha-k-kaneer
Anbe Vaa
Mannan
Velaikkaran
Vettaiyadu Vilayadu

AN OVERWHELMING EVENING

He ends his talk, asks Sriram to finish the formalities and tells the audience he is running a montage of Chandrababu’s songs. “Those who are interested can stay on”, he says. Not a soul moves. That is Mohan Raman for you.

As Mohan completes his presentation, I am at my wits’ end – how do I blog a review of this evening with the massive amount of notes I have taken? And, as I thought about Mohan and his travails – how the hell could he have researched, met the right people, sourced the film clips and put together a presentation like that? If Mohan could take all that trouble for not just about a hundred people that evening, but for his love for the city, I had to say so. And say so through my blog.

As I saunter into The Park on Nungambakkam High Road at around 1820 hrs., happy that I have made it early to find a seat for myself, I find almost all seats taken, but not a soul. They are at the snack counter, eager to finish off before the presentation begins. The hero of the day arrives a little later, well in time for his talk, but the hall is full, notwithstanding the extra chairs commandeered for the crowd, and people end up sitting on the carpets. That is Mohan Raman for you.

Mohan has been presenting for the Chennai Heritage lecture series for four years now, and things have never been different. Always pulling in the crowds, Mohan regales us with wonderful anecdotes, wittily presented. A lovable chide here when a mobile blares, a quick repartee there make the evenings great fun.

This year the lecture was on Madras Bashai and the man who introduced it – J P Chandrababu, that master of the silver screen. Babu, as we shall refer him now on, was a performer par excellence with a wonderful talent for singing, dancing, acting and, as Mohan put it, calling a spade a spade, not matter who or what it was about. This last trait of Babu’s probably ended up with Babu having squirmishes with the probably the entire phalanx of stars of the Tamil tinsel world. Babu was extremely confident in his talents and his films reflected that.

Mohan spun in a perfect example of Babu’s supreme confidence. When Sahodarigal was made by AVM and the edited work was viewed, Chettiar, as AVM was fondly known, worried a lot about how a tearjerker could make it big at the box office. He called for Babu and asked him to see the movie. Babu’s first reaction was that it would bomb and he said as much. Chettiar asked Babu if he could do something. Babu asked for seven days, a few artistes and a free hand to have scenes inserted wherever he wanted. Most importantly, Babu asked for a lakh as remuneration when Chettiar was mulling a tenth of that! Babu, in his plainspeaking tone told off Chettiar: “You lose six lakh if you don’t pay me one lakh”. Such was Babu’s supreme confidence in himself he landed that job, finished the scripting, filming, re-editing and handed over the film to Chettiar in the given time. The film was runaway winner at the box office!

Another interesting nugget was the ‘contrived’ and ‘acted’ out fight between Babu and Sivaji Ganesan in Sabash Meena. In one scene when Babu is asked to stay outside the house with the hand rickshaw, Sivaji enters and picks up an argument. Sivaji little expected Babu to land a blow. The shot was cut, and the next time, Babu gives a shove at Sivaji’s face with his palm. Arguments follow, all when the cameras are rolling (Sivaji too utters a few choice Madras Bashai words here)! At the end, Babu makes a public apology on the camera, as Sivaji exits the scene. A wonderful impromptu performance, notwithstanding the man opposite was as big a superstar as you got!

The most hilarious episode of the evening for me was the way Babu behaved at the Rashtrapathi Bhavan. Invited after a performance to rejuvenate the jawans post the 1962 war with China, MSV, Babu and Sivaji were closeted with the then President Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan. The President asks for a performance, but the three are aghast – the orchestra is already on its way home! Undeterred, MSV asks for a harmonium and Babu sings Pirakkum pothum azhuginran … for the President. Half way through the song, as the President is immersed in the philosophy of the song, Babu jumps across and sits on the President’s lap and continues singing – something that makes the others aghast, but the President enjoys, gently running his fingers through Babu’s hairs!

There were a lot of such interesting snippets of information rendered in an inimitable style only Mohan can. Some of them were how Babu managed to meet S S Vasan; how he picked up Madras Bashai at Triplicane and Mir Sahibpet; his performance in Gul-e-bagavali; his yodeling – then a first in Indian cinema; the irony of Babu playback singing for Sivaji in Kalyanam Panniyum Brahmmachari and for Veenai Balachander in AVM’s Penn, but having Sirkazhi Govindarajan sing for Babu in Sabash Meena; Babu successfully getting in the baila genre through Kungumapoove Konjupurave – a massive hit even today; MSV failing Babu in a voice test and Babu getting his revenge as he rejected tune after tune, only to appreciate the fine work when MSV actually dances out the song – the list is endless.

Babu’s personal life was not a bed of roses – a failed marriage, a not-so-successful beginning and end to his film career, his alcoholism, the list can go on. All this laid bare by Mohan, right in the presence of one of Babu’s family lent a great deal of authenticity. Not that we really needed proof; Mohan is so careful and authentic in his research. His presence is commanding, laugh-a-minute type.

My daughters ask me the question, “Appa, when is Seenu Sir’s lecture this year?” My folks have hated the character Seenu Sir in the Tamil serial Anandam – but loved the actor. I only have this to say: Seenu Sir, if there is one lecture that the entire family turns out to listen to, it is Mohan Raman’s – no matter what he talks about!

For one of the most versatile actors the Tamil film industry has ever seen, the homage could not have come on a platform more apt and by a person more apt. Such was Mohan’s performance that Babu, had he been around, would have been overwhelmed and compelled to say ‘Superaa kalakkitiye – innoru daba sollu naina!”

AN UNDERWHELMING START

Compared to my rush to reach Music Academy for Landmark 2010, the relaxed manner in which Sivakumar and I reached Taj Connemara was not a surprise. The reason I had even decided to give the finals of the Landmark Quiz (we have never been on stage so far, so that could never be the reason) was that I had a date with the first of the Madras Musings Lecture Series of the Madras Week 2010.

After a rather good time snacking around and catching up with the familiar faces from last year’s lectures, it was time to sit in attention to catch up with what Sivasankari, the popular Tamil writer. The introductions were done with and Sivasankari was at the mike. Sivasankari was speaking about My Madras – the Madras being the one she grew up and earned a name for herself, not the supposedly post-modern Chennai that we live in.

She started off describing herself as a typical Madras girl, and rightly so, though she also spent time at Villupuram (during which time she was at Madras for almost half-a-week) – a small self-introduction. She then set the right tone for the day quickly moving on to how the entire family – remember, it was a joint family of close to 40 people at home – stood around as her father hoisted the national flag and the family sung patriotic songs. That really moved me – would have loved to be in such an atmosphere.

Sivasankari is writer – hugely successful too. I must confess that I have not read much of her writings, but I have liked what little I have. What stood out today was the planning that had probably gone into her lecture, if she had thought ahead last week as to what she was going to tell us today. What also stood out, purely in my personal opinion, was the same planning – that probably is the reason why this piece is titled so.

She had segmented her lecture into three distinct segments – Places, People and Events (read festivals). She roped in the audience with little effort, and as it happens at such lectures, the senior citizens who always outnumber youngsters, always have an I-told-you-so or an I-have-been-there-and-done-that-too kind of look if you are rather unfortunate to catch their eye! There were a lot of such moments today, and I must consider myself lucky that flanking me on one side was Sivakumar and on the other was Karthik Bhatt – arguably waiting to be the next big thing on the Madras heritage scene, a status he richly deserves. We will have more about Karthik in a few days’ time if I am lucky; for the moment we can come back to Sivasankari.

Sivasankari spoke evocatively about her childhood and youth; about the uncle from Dhanbad whose visits the entire family looked forward to, for this offered a chance to have a series of outings with him; of her moonlit dinners on what was then not considered the done thing – at the Elliot’s Beach; how Adyar was done and dusted at Gandhinagar, beyond which there seemed no tomorrow; about the Sun Theatre which was considered low class in comparison to the Rajakumari – apparently the only movie theatre to be named after an actress (!) – which showcased English movies; how she sneaked in wearing a costume to look like an adult to watch an ‘A’ rated movie at Minerva. What must take the cake, or the ice cream, was the description of her movie watching days at the New Elphinstone – more than the movie, the ice cream at Jaffar’s. A very interesting piece of info was that Jaffar had the ice cream sent to your seat in the movie hall if you paid for it in advance and gave your seat number at the time of ordering the ice cream – for what was the Dress Circle class at there. The Satyams and the PVRs – we have done that before you!

Kapaleeswarar temple, the Island Grounds, the Munroe statue, the Congress grounds also found a mention in the lecture. Another surprise for me was that Modern Café, that wonderful restaurant of yester years actually sold food from a van parked on the Marina; for Sivasankari, though, the attraction was the iced water they served! Her reminiscences also took us to the Woodlands Drive-in, the RR Sabha, her birth place on the Boag Road – this is now a wedding hall! She also had a pet deer when she lived in a huge place on Tirumalai Pillai Road!

She then seamlessly integrated her next segment, people. Talking with fervour, she narrated how she got to know the then big names like Kamaraj, Bhaktavatchalam, Rajaji, TTK, and many others. She was particularly fond of the Kalki Gardens as she was close to M S Subbulakshmi. She talked of how her father and many contemporaries used these children to help out when they prepared food for the hordes descending on Kumbakonam for the Mahamaham. Apparently at his wits’ end to mix the rice and sambar for the sambar rice, her father had a concrete mixer thoroughly cleaned and used it for making sambar rice!

The festivals she talked about were Deepavali and the Navaratri. How the parents used to line up the kids as early as 2.30 am to have a ‘gangasnaanam’, the holy bath on Deepavli, how they burst crackers right from 4 am and the wonderful, mouthwatering spread of bakshanams! Navarathri was an equally elaborate affair; the nine-day festival entailing their visits to more than 100 households for kolu, and more than an equal number visiting them!

She also touched upon her association with both Indira and Rajiv Gandhi, the first family in India’s politics then, now and probably forever! She described how Rajiv Gandhi celebrated her birthday on board the Air Force plane in the midst of a state visit!

Well, if you are wondering what was underwhelming about all this, there are two reasons. The turnout was rather disappointing – it was much better last year. But last year opened with Randor Guy’s talk on the sleaze, read crimes at Madras, and this proves that crime pays – even in a heritage series’ lecture! The second was that - at least I felt so - Sivasankari was intent on not overshooting the allotted time. By the time she was done with places, she probably felt she was running short of time and had to rather gallop through the next two of her segments, to use her own words, like Munroe on the horse!

My impressions of the day – an evening very well spent. But it had the potential to be the blockbuster of the lecture series this year (I am not including Mohan Raman’s talks – it is like comparing Sachin Tendulkar to Dravid and the rest), but failed to make it at the last possible centimeter of the race. We could have been party to this rather unwittingly – why do we turn out in large numbers when there are only movies and when there is only sleaze? Our inherent and time-tested interest in others’ personal lives or in the make-believe world of celluloid? Voyeurism? It is time to move on – come on Madras, there is life beyond the movies and sleaze.

A MULTIPLEX ...

It was an accidental visit to Villivakkam on a Saturday evening that set me back by 600 bucks. The clinic was closed and my daughter insisted we go to just see from outside the multiplex right behind the bus terminus. We did, and I succumbed to the temptation to see what the multiplex was like – why, what a multiplex was like from the inside. The old Royal theatre had made way to its modern avatar – the AGS Royal multiplex. I bought five tickets for Madharasapattinam, not for anything else but the Madras Week coming up. The film was said to contain a lot of shots of old Madras, something that is close to my heart.

We trooped into the multiplex at around 1800 hours on Sunday for an 1815 start of show. The 600 setback immediately rose to 800 – my daughters were simply not complaining about the fare that was on offer. We started with eats and had much more during the intermission – and, why do they call the break in the movies as ‘intermission’ and not ‘interval’?

The theatre was very good. The air-conditioning was awesome and, contrary to the convention in Chennai theatres, was not switched off. The seats were plush, had comfortable levels of pushback. The steps leading to the higher rows were well-lit with blue LED, just enough to find our way but not infringing on viewing pleasure. The sound was good – in all, it offered a very good experience. The wash rooms were also very well maintained and smelled fresh – even during the interval.

Getting a snack was never so easy – no pushing and shoving. Just queue up to the three bill counters, pay and get the receipt. Then you went to the food counter to get your food – they even gave you trays to take the food inside the theatre. The coffee, cardamom tea, cold coffee and hot chocolate were simply superb.

Overall, it was an experience that was worth it – made a bit better by the movie that we watched. I am not sure, though, if I will make a beeline to the next multiplex screen in town.

... AND MADHARASAPATTINAM

As the movie calls itself, its USP is the showcasing of Madras, a city that we now ruefully know as Chennai. The movie is very well made, the cinematography wonderful and the music very good – the songs are still ringing; something you cannot say of music these days. How long these will continue ringing I am not sure, but certainly not as the golden oldies of yore, I suppose.

The story line is the usual, yet a bit different. Taking off on the ‘us’ versus ‘them’ theory, it is love between a local boy and a British girl, set in the 1940s. The issue of the invaders’ highhandedness is settled when the hero bashes up the villain – but at stake is not the girl; it is the livelihood of the hero’s community. As independence dawns on India, it is darkness for the lovers. He is thrown into the Cooum by his lover to save his life; she is herself whisked away to Britain.

The story is narrated in a flashback mode and I could not discern any gaps in the narrative. The comedy track was just right; the performances of the major role-players were up to it, without being spectacular.

Madras Week creeps upon us in a few days’ time, and what better than to freshen up for the week with shots of old Madras! Whether it will help in the quiz or not, I do not know, for I am still not sure of being there at the quiz itself. Is somebody listening?

START BOTH

A room, two Windows, three Musketeers and a Saturday night. That about sums about the recipe for a wonderful fare dished out at Tiruchirapalli (TPJ) for Ranga, KK and me. We made a visit on a recent Saturday, leaving Chennai Egmore (MS) by Pallavan Exp. Arriving at TPJ about a quarter of an hour early, at 2100 against the scheduled arrival of 2115, after a run made rousing more by the fact that the train supposedly has enormous slack than anything else, we headed out for dinner and then on to the DRMs office where the Control Centre (as the name board declared) was situated.

As we disembarked from the train, I couldn’t but help feeling a bit like Montek Singh Ahluwalia – yes, that sleek-looking, glib-talking Deputy Chairman of the Planning Commission. I also couldn’t help feeling that the persons walking alongside were two Kamal Naths. Should the elaborate plan to visit the control centre – yes, I had a Plan A, a Plan B and even a Plan C – fail, then I could have been an ‘armchair planner’ with nothing concrete to offer J

Before going further, a bit of a backgrounder. Bored with stuff like watching trains from a platform of station that is not the place where you live; bored with stuff like noting and publishing road numbers of locos hauling every which train; bored with stuff like discussing the minister’s foibles, it was time to do something different – yet the same – connected with trains. What better way than to spend a night at a controller’s, thought me. And, where would that be? Getting in to a control office even in MAS with contacts would be a tough, if not impossible job. But watching the section controller in whichever section in MAS seemed a bit like aiming at a bull’s eye as large a whole rhino. The challenge lay in aiming at a bull’s eye that seems more like an ant – in this case, trying to wangle a visit to a section where even the most seasoned controllers feel exactly like that, trying to hit a bull’s eye a size of an ant. So, TPJ it had to be.

Is there any other section on IR which witnesses more than 150 crossings each night – if the night can be defined as a narrow window between 2300 and 0400? Is there any other section on IR which has three controllers, with one overseeing the entire 150+ crossings each night; the other just about five or six (in his own words, a section where only 1½ trains run every night!) and the third lucky to see one or two movements (not necessarily crossings) on a badly overworked night? Show us, we will spend a night there – the only condition is that the line must be single!

Coming back to what made me think Montek – we had three plans in place. Plan A looked like coming unstuck right from the time we boarded the Pallavan at MS. Swinging into Plan B right in front of the Pallavan loco at MS, we were asked to contact at 2030 hrs – the time we would be close enough to TPJ. Plan C was also activated, only the person involved in that was just not picking up the phone! We had not completely abandoned Plan A; we kept calling, sometimes even pleading that it had taken us a lot of coaxing and cajoling at the higher places to get this far; requesting that the next lower level at TPJ not abandon us citing bureaucratic hurdles, that too this close to the day, er, night of reckoning. Plan B finally came unstuck at the stroke of 2030 – the contact at MAS had scooted home handing over to his reliever, without as much informing him of the facilitation for us at TPJ! Plan C came unstuck at 2100, the moment we arrived at TPJ – the contact there was just in from NDLS and had a train to work just past midnight and was also at a function. There was no other option it seemed, than to check into a dorm; leave our sparse bags and have dinner. Post-dinner, just walk on to PF 2 and keep a watch on trains coming in and going out, and do the normal railfanning thing like noting loco numbers, setting of speculation if we ever happened to spot something offbeat – that was highly unlikely given the way the evening and the night had panned out that far – and finally, I was also thinking of an alibi or three to explain to Ranga and KK why plans did not work the way they were supposed to. Murphy’s law? That was one I considered.

In about twenty minutes after arrival at TPJ, the dorm beds were taken – two A/c beds were available, the third was a non A/c. The dorms were very good – in fact, much better than the A/c dorm in MAS. They offered almost complete privacy – and unless you were a person indulging in noisy sex, there was not an inch of what your neighbor could see! The non A/c dorm was also a very clean affair. Will get to post some pics on Open Line sooner than later!

We than made our way to a wonderful place suggested by KK – a Hotel Sangeetha, part of Hotel Anand, a good lodge just a stone’s throw away from TPJ railway station. We devoured some idlis, rava dosas and washed them down with strong filter coffee and made our way out in search of the control centre. We arrived at the control centre after looking around for a fair bit of time, wandering off in the opposite direction and then retracing our way. As we walked into the fully air-conditioned building, we really did not know what was to come. We asked for the Dy Chief Controller (we will call him Chief) for the night and were shown a small cabin with two people sitting behind computer. As it always happens, you always ask the wrong person – in spite of the high probability of being correct – and are wrong. It was not different that night; the person we asked showed his index finger at the other person. We introduced ourselves, the purpose of our visit and the official at TPJ we had talked to. After the routine ‘why are you interested in this when you have so many other things to’ kind of questions, we were lucky that the Chief was on the line with the very same official who was our Plan A hope. We would not know what transpired on the phone line, but the moment the phone was disconnected, the Chief would call a Group D to place three chairs in the ‘Chord Line Control’ as the most action-packed arena every night is known as.

There are quite a few cabins and cubicles in the Control Centre. As you walk in from the main door, on the right is the Commercial Control and on the left is the Security. Amble past another door, on the left is the Signal and Telecom control. On the right you enter into a series of cabins placed both on your left and right. The first cabin to the left is where the action takes place every night – the Chord Line Control; on the right is a vacant control cabin that once housed the Vridhachalam – Cuddalore (VRI-CUPJ) section. The second on the left is the Main Line Control – the line that runs from Villupuram (VM) to TPJ via Chidambaram (CDM), Mayiladuthurai (MV), Kumbakonam (KMU) and Thanjavur (TJ). This was the section described as the ‘one-and-a-half-train section!’ On the right lay the Katpadi Control, taking care of whatever there was between VM and Katpadi (KPD). The Chief and his sparse staff for the night took the cabin next to the KPD control cabin.

As we entered the Chord Line Control, the person manning the post just looked at us and welcomed us in. He was about his task of issuing instruction to the stations and taking timings of trains that were passing each station. There was this goods train that had to be somehow moved to a specific location that night, to fulfill the loading quota, at least on paper! There was this rather small issue for us of trains being handed over at VM – the first three or four trains from MS that night – late, the delay ranging from 40 minutes to 10 minutes (Ranga is doing an analysis based on the charts that we managed to procure for ourselves the next morning). The controller explained how this delay would turn out to be the spoilsport that night; he used a master chart on a large cardboard and explained the planned crossings and how they were spread out – if that is the word you could use to term close to 170 crossings over 175 kms at an average of a crossing for just above one km!

The only equipment he had was a Windows system hooked on to two monitors; one to enter the timings and the other showing a graphic illustration of the actual timings of the trains upto the last station and the projection thereafter. There was no AI assistance to the controller – he had to keep it all in his mind. There was a microphone into which he could speak to the SMs directly – to all the SMs of the stations on the section, TPJ RRI cabin and TPJ platform SM. There was a board with short codes for stations to be called – the controller could just press ‘26’ and a ring would go out to VM. There were a few phones as well – all railway phones.

The controller work on a six-hour shift. A reliever came in at 2340, probably signed in and settled down. He was then briefed on the exact status – trains that were handed over late at VM, the specials and the weeklies, one unexpected freighter, additional movement for a light engine, occupation of loops at various stations, etc. As the new man made a mental picture of this, we got ourselves introduced quickly and the controller went about his job. The most famous phrase of the night – in fact, the flavour of the evening was ‘Start Both’ – the term used to detain a train for a crossing, and once crossed, start the detained train too.

As the night wore on, ready to melt into the morning, KK was extremely sympathetic to a light engine that was held up at Ichangadu waiting for a path to Kallakudi Palanganatham. In fact, if the entire night were to be a melodrama, the light engine would be the tear-jerker and KK would have been the one shedding tears. As the night wore on, ready to melt into the morning, ‘Start both’ became a rather monotonous order from the controller to the SMs in the section; just an hour or so earlier, many trains were held over for two crossings – probably the most unlucky of them could have been the 6107/08 MS–MAQ–MS Expresses, 1063/64 MS–SA–MS Expresses and 1044 MDU–LTT Express. As night started to give way to morning, close to 0300, station after station started asking a question of the controller – line clear for up trains? The controller, with a quick glance at the graph monitor (the other one was used to click the timings at stations) cleared this. This meant that all down trains (towards TPJ) were clear of, for example, Ulundurpet station; Ulundurpet now just had to run through all trains towards MS – anything to the contrary would be specifically brought to the notice by the controller.

It was close to 0345 when the burden of staying awake all night was telling on us – the doorplating earlier on the Pallavan was adding to the strain on the eyes – that we decided to call it a day. As the second, then the third, then the fourth station was given all clear for UP trains, we decided to take leave of the Control Centre.

At the end of the night, rather end of the day at a rather surprising time of 0400 at the control, the only overwhelming thought for all of us there – Ranga, KK and the staff included – was the sheer lack of forethought of doubling the line; unfortunately and more foolishly, the electric lobby had won another battle – making the network lose in the bargain.

At the end of the night, rather end of the day, if ever there was one person relieved that it all went off wonderfully well, it was the Montek of the group – the Kamal Naths would be proved wrong. After all, this Montek had three plans ready; the last two failed, but Plan A had clicked. As we sauntered our way and crashed into our beds, the only refrain that was constantly ringing in our ears was ‘Start Both’.