Ananda Vikatan

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Gunpowder lies cold Sunday Pioneer, December 19, 2004.

Pulicat's excellent shipping facilities enabled the Dutch to keep their holdover east Asia, finds S Anvar

Appearances can be deceptive. Not just with people, even with places. When the long, winding road that branches off from National Highway 5 comes to an abrupt end, just before a waterfront, in what looks like a main bazaar that also doubles up as a noisy, crowded fish market, one needs to be reassured that this is the historic Pulicat.

Also known as Pazhaverkadu (the old jungle of mimosa trees), it was once a thriving port, over which centuries ago, many European colonial powers fought bitter battles. If you expect to breathe history upon arrival, the stench of the fish and complete chaos, typical of an Indian fish market, is what you get.

Pulicat is located about 55 km from Chennai. However, having "been there and done that" before, we knew history sleeps in the side roads. Facing the waterfront and a few paces into the road on the left is the Dutch Cemetery, the most visible remains of the colonial past, that also hold some clue to the gory and glorious times.

It was on March 20, 1602, that representatives of the provinces of the Dutch Republic granted the Dutch East India Company (Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie or VOC) a monopoly on the trade in the East Indies. Its purpose was not only trade, the company also had to fight the enemies of the Republic and prevent other European nations from entering the lucrative East India trade.

Vegetable-dyed cottons from Pulicat and its hinterland, a business still remembered in a name that lingers on, Palayakat lungis, was what brought the Dutch to the Coromandel coast, to Pulicat in particular. The Dutch built a fort here in 1609 and named it Fort Gelderia, after Gelderland, one of the states of Holland.

Apart from trading in textiles, the easy availability of good quality saltpetre enabled them to start manufacturing gunpowder. This was a vital commodity in the highly turbulent 17th century, when large ships roamed the seas armed to the teeth and the Dutch had to use brute force to establish their hegemony throughout east Asia. Pulicat was strategically located for the distribution of gunpowder as its excellent shipping facilities enabled the Dutch to keep most of the VOC's major establishments in the East well-stocked.

Pulicat remained the chief Dutch settlement in India till 1781 when the British took over. Restored to the Dutch in 1785, it was seized by the British again in 1795, then handed back once more in 1818 before it was finally ceded to the British in 1825. Though nothing is left of the fort, barring some traces of the foundation, thankfully the tomb of Abraham Mendis inside the Dutch cemetery has an engraving of Fort Gelderia on its tombstone. In the centre of the engraving, Fort Gelderia is surrounded by a moat filled with lotuses and fish, with slanted roofed houses in the west.

As we tiptoed across the cemetery, the ASI caretaker showed us another tombstone with a church and a tree engraved on it. Hoping to discover more such, we gentle-footed from one tomb to another, tombs built underneath domed canopies and obelisks over 40 feet high. After a futile search and no further help from the caretaker, we decided to continue our search to the other side of the road, across the market.

On the other side of the market place, there are streets with dilapidated masonry houses, occupied by ethnic Arabian Muslims. A few families are still left over and they possess a document with them in Arwi or Arabic Tamil (Tamil written in Arabic character), which says that they were banished from Mecca for refusing to pay tributes to a new calif, Hajjaj Ibn Yusuf. And so they were escorted out of the land in four ships, one of which landed in Cholamandal (meaning the land ruled by the Tamil kings, Cholas). Over a period of time they spread out and settled in Pulicat. Early in the 17th century, when a Dutch ship ran aground on the Pulicat shores, these Muslims offered food and help to the Dutch. Locals struck a trade partnership with the foreigners, to procure and supply local merchandise for the Dutch to trade with the East Indies. Mustafa Maricair, one of the Muslims, made a fortune out of dealing with the Dutch, notes the document.

It definitely seems to have been a mutually beneficial relationship. Two mosques in this area built in stone, in Dravidian architecture, are around 300 years old, corresponding to the Dutch era. The houses in which these Muslims reside are two-storeyed, some have a distinct European style with pillared fronts and high roofs. We went into one such house, almost in ruins with an old man and his sister being the sole occupants. Inside the house were neatly stacked, huge, glazed Chinese jars. Though the locals claimed they were meant for storing rain water, we wondered whether these were the Burmese martaban jars the Dutch used to store gunpowder. As we paused, our local guide from the mosque, who read out the Arwi document, whispered to us that sometime back a Dutch tourist armed with maps, pointed to this house, recognising it to be the one in which his forefathers had lived. He was willing to give a crore, but it was refused, said the man. Looking at the completely ruined state, we could hardly believe it. But who knows, what is a crore to a man who doesn't require it. The old man, who could easily be mistaken for an Arab, refused to be photographed, saying his wife had just passed away and he was in mourning. To him the ruins probably still held memories of his wife and forefathers.

A few other houses had the same glazed jars and wooden pillars with intricate designs carved on them, a reminder of the good old times. Today Pulicat is a sleepy village drawing the local tourist crowd, which is more attracted by the lake that runs miles to the north and south. Thankfully the ASI takes care of the cemetery, which seems to attract an occasional foreign tourist who has chosen to travel off the beaten track. As we headed back to Chennai, we suddenly realised that the stench in the market had hardly bothered us. Was it because of the hot sun or our engrossing time travel? Pulicat would never be a sleepy village to me again, appearances can be very deceptive.

New Sunday Indian Express

It was my curiosity about the ancient Tamils' maritime history that led me to the temple of Azhagiya Nambi at Thirukurungudi. I had heard from a Tamil scholar that the temple had a sculpture with a carving of a ship. It was sufficient to whet my curiosity. So on a trip to Tirunelveli, I decided to steal some time from my assignments and head for Thirukurungudi, about 47 km south of Tirunelveli.

With the Kalakkad ranges of the Western Ghats forming the backdrop and the river Nambi, a tributary of the Tamiraparani, coursing through the village, Azhagiya Nambi's temple, one of the 108 divya desams of the Vaishnavites, is set in the most scenic of surroundings. The unfinished gopuram over the entrance is majestic, with a wealth of sculptural detail. Right on top of the roof, at regular intervals, are monkeys sculpted in various poses, as if frozen in stone whilst busy in some activity.

After scanning all sides of the gopuram for the engraving of the ship, I moved into the temple only to be overwhelmed by more-than-life-size sculptures, looking as though they were about to leap upon the visitor. For those who have visited Krishnapuram near Tirunelveli or the Patteeswaraswamy temple at Perur near Coimbatore, the hall leading to Azhagiya Nambi is equally grand. With just one roll of film and very little time on my hands, I was totally unprepared for the spell-binding visual onslaught.

I reminded myself of the purpose of my visit and moved further inwards, past an exquisite Rathi Mandapam. By then, I realised that this was a huge temple complex, embellished throughout with beautiful sculptures, and that I would require local help to locate the ship. I decided to buttonhole an old man, an Iyengar, who was resting near on the second entrance. He casually waved his hands above, pointing to a panel right opposite him. There it was, almost 10 feet above us, a very detailed bas-relief sculpture of a ship about to anchor, with a boat beneath it heading towards the shore. Right on the shore was a horse being led by a man, and they seemed to be part of a grand procession of men and animals loaded with goods. The men in the panel seemed to be Arabs with broad, bearded faces and wearing caps. It seemed to be a record of the more than 2000 years old Arab trade contacts with Tamil Nadu. I was amused that these pious-looking Arab traders should be sitting above the second entrance to Nambi. Perhaps in those days religion was relatively a non-issue.

The panel also vaguely reminded me of a sculpture of Arabs I had seen in the ruins of Hampi. I had never expected to see such a detailed panel so far down South, by the foothills of the Western Ghats. But then, Thirukurungudi is closer to the ancient seaports of Tamils. Even closer, just a few km away, is Eruvadi, a small town with a predominant proportion of Tamil Muslims. Buried in this town are some great merchants and seafarers from Kayalpattnam, again an ancient port town.

Wishing to photograph the panel, I went in search of the manager, Thiru Narayanan, who proved to be very helpful. He arranged for a ladder to be brought so that I could photograph the panel without any distortion. This was not the only panel. Right above and opposite it were panels describing scenes of war and, apparently, scenes from Puranas. Above me on the ceiling, along with a lotus pond, was a procession of musicians and women, their bodies turned towards the Gajalakshmi, a symbol that one comes across in temples built by Nayaks and the rulers of Vijaynagar.

After exhausting my roll of film, I reluctantly got off the ladder, curious to know more about the builders of this great temple. The sthala purana handed over to me spoke about its association with Sri Ramanujar and the Alwars. Unfortunately it did not have any information on the builders of this great temple. However, it did have an interesting story to tell, that of Nampaaduvaan, a devotee born of lower caste (Paanars) and hence denied entry into the temple. According to the story, on an ekadasi day, while Nampaaduvaan was on his way to the temple to worship Nambi, he was confronted by a hungry demon who wanted Nampaaduvaan for his next meal. While Nampaaduvaan was willing to be the prey, he had just one request — to be allowed to conclude his ekadasi fast in front of Nambi at the temple. After expressing some doubts, the demon relented. Nampaaduvaan's heart-rending hymns sung in praise of Nambi in Kasiski Raga pleased the Lord, and he granted his devotee the moksha he wanted. And how? Azhagiya Nambi gave darshan to the untouchable devotee who had been denied entry into the temple by moving the Kodi Maram, which had been obstructing the view.

It reminded me of a parallel story in the Shaivite tradition, where Nataraja gave darshan to an ardent devotee from a lower caste, Nandhanar, by moving the Nandhi that similarly obstructed the view at Chidambaram. A drama based on Nampaaduvaan has been revived, informed Thiru Narayanan, and I realised that this was the Kaisiki Natakam. Danseuse Anita Ratnam, with the help of Professor Ramanujam, was involved in reviving it as an annual event during Ekadasi at Thirukurungudi. Incidentally, Thirukurungudi is also the birthplace of the legendary TV Sundaram Iyengar, founder of the TVS group.

With time running short, I left the temple without even getting a look at the wooden sculptures on the vimana and also Azhgiya Nambi. I knew for sure that I would be coming back, Inshallah, with a lot more time in my hands. For there seemed to be lot more to Thirukurungudi, not just for the spiritually inclined but also for connoisseurs of art and social historians.