KANCHIPURAM
From Sampath’s Desk:
I am an urbanite to the core of Madras, now Chennai. Till my studies were over and I got employment I didn't have opportunity or occasion to
visit any rural areas or short sojourns there as all my relatives were also living in Chennai only. However I remember having enjoyed a pleasant rural life for one year in
the silk sarees famous, nostalgia-kindling KANCHIPURAM, a temple town situate
75 KM away from Chennai. Those enthralling and captivating memories are nestled
up in my memory lane to be recalled and for chewing the cud at times. That was
in the 1960’s when I was studying in a lower standard at school. My father was then
working as the Manager of the Higginbotham book-stall in the Kanchipuram
Railway station. After a year, we shifted back to Chennai on his transfer to
Chennai Central Railway Station.
Kanchipuram is an ancient temple town and
pilgrimage destination in South India well known throughout the country and
even abroad. The mention of Kanchipuram in eons-old literatures as
‘Nagareshu Kanchi’ meaning ‘the best town’ is noteworthy and suggestive of it
being a paragon, epitome and quintessence of what a temple town is all about
with many Hindu temples lined up here with splendid breathtaking towers
majestically standing erect in an august, solemn and splendid stance and style typifying sculptural
and architectural marvels of the unique South Indian temple structure. Every
street/lane had at least one temple, the primeval town being home to many
recognized, acclaimed and decreed as divine temples of both Saivite and
Vaishnavite cults.
First we had our residence in Vishnu-Kanchi away
from my father’s workplace. We then moved to closer vicinity of the railway
station and lived in a street called ‘North Krishnarayar Street’. The area was
abound with rural scenarios with the Railway Station having a royal look in an
old building in the backdrop of and embedded as it were in a verdant expanse. The
Railway station located at a ‘stone throw’ distance and our street/house were
separated by a grove with a couple of gravel pathways flanked by dense flora, a
visual feast indeed!
Bullock-carts, horse-coaches and cycles were the
means of transport then with buses plying rarely in the main road afar. Almost
every house had a unique frontal porch/raised floor
(‘Thinnai’ in Tamil) and a well in the backyard surrounded by a
sandy stretch dotted with vegetations including palm, banana and coconut trees,
and flower and vegetable bearing plants. The house where we lived as one among the
four tenants had a roof of insert-type curved country tiles perfectly arranged
to be water-tight and rainproof. In the cement topped open-to-sky rectangular
shaped ‘Mutram’ (courtyard) we had the sacred ‘Tulasi Maadam’. In the yard
we used to sit together and chitchat besides playing Carom, Squares, dices, etc.
Both youngsters and elders would exchange innocuous banter-repartee, riddles,
puzzles, tidbits, etc., enjoying a nice time daily.
There was a big pond nearby called ‘Chettikulam’
with the hinterland streets, lanes and by-lanes located at a considerable height.
During rains, the declivity of the water-flow towards and into the pond made it
even to overflow sometimes. My school was 2 KM away to which I walked daily. We, the
school-going children, would be displeased with the otherwise welcome rains, as
we had to take a detour that entailed staggering and tottering along and wading
through puddles of water to reach our school as the pond was overflowing. At
normal times, the pathway running alongside the tank-bund would offer us a
hassle-free shortcut walk-through to the school and other places. In summer
with the pond water level truncating and shrinking it offered a perfect pitch for
us to play games like kite-flying, piggy-back, leapfrog, cricket, tops, ducks
and drakes, etc.
Both youngsters and elders used to go beyond the
nearby railway-crossing for enjoying bath in the open cement tanks available with groundwater in full flow drawn by big bore-engines mainly meant for irrigating
fields raising rice and other crops. En
route back home, we would pluck vegetables and fruits that came in handy with
none raising any objection or demur. Tender coconut and palm, tamarind, guava
fruits etc. would also be available freely. Alas in an extravagant and pompous
city like Chennai, it is unthinkable and we have to pay for anything and everything under the sky, now
including water. In cities, nothing comes of nothing. Everything is business. The
saying, ‘Business of business is business and nothing but business’ is
scrupulously followed!
After years on becoming a grown-up I had
visited the temple town umpteen times till this date. I only see those earlier
beautiful natural scenarios are miserably missing there now. And what now
remain as relics and vestiges are names of prominent streets with the whole natural
milieu having undergoing transformation and transmutations. Concrete
jungles have devoured the once green lush expanse leaving people
asphyxiating. However much one is eager and desirous of revisiting and reliving
the verdant and vibrant old days in this town it may be disappointing. That
impossibility is the only possibility in the mundane life of this transient
world.
It needs no over-emphasis that Kanchipuram is
home to many temples in which devotees in large numbers find water for their
spiritual thirst and and food for their devotional hunger, in short a Heaven on
the Earth with peace and tranquility reigning. But today it is as good as any
other modern town having transformed itself from the old gold days with peaceful
and serene environs to a ritzy, swanky and bustling semi-urban centre.
Still the architectural wonders of the temples and
towers along with the sculptural marvels that remain as part and parcel of them are an optical
treat.
(R.SAMPATH)
1/11/2020
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