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Chettinad: A Story of Indian Arts and Crafts
This
is a young story from an ancient land. It is the story of a proud people, their
enchanting legacy and eventual decline. It is a story that is, even as we
communicate, hurtling towards what looks like an uncertain climax. But we all
know that social histories evolve rather than end. This is the story of
Chettinad, tucked away in what seems to be the middle of nowhere, deep in the
Dakshin hinterland of Tamil Nadu, India’s southernmost state. It is a place of
fabulous riches and legendary arts, extraordinary cuisine and unparalleled
hospitality—or rather it used to be, once upon at time.
As
we walk the dusty streets of this cluster of 96 villages, where the only green
comes from stunted scrubs in arid land, we see signs everywhere of how the human
mind can overcome circumstances with imagination. The Chettiars, from whom this
region gets its name, were one of the earliest business communities in India.
They settled almost mid-centre between the capitals of the Pandya Kingdom in
Madurai and the Chola Empire in Thanjavur in the 13th century.
Distinctive
Position in Indian Folklore
Originally
living further south, at Kaveripoompattinam, they were wooed by kings and
chieftains to make economies prosper. Descriptions of their wealth and skill
abound in Tamil literary classics such as the Silappadikkaram. Respected
for their fair dealings, charitable disposition, spiritual piety and word of
honor, the community provided a benevolent leadership to what was essentially a
backward region. Engaged in daring overseas trade through old sea routes, the
Chettiar men journeyed to Burma, present-day Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Malaysia,
Indonesia, Japan and even Europe, trading in teak, precious stones, gold, spices
and silks. They built grand mansions and beautiful temples everywhere they went
but always returned to lavish their fondest attention on the land they called
home.
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Colorful
rottars: basket hand woven from palm leaf
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Under
their gracious patronage (their traditions demanded that a third of their
earnings be set aside for temple maintenance and social welfare), the arts of
Chettinad grew to occupy a distinct position in south Indian folklore. Wood
carving, silver embellishment, woven saris, palm-leaf baskets, gold jewellery,
hand-made tiles, architectural styling, refined cuisine and egg plastering are
among their more visible contributions to the wide-ranging repertoire of Indian
arts and crafts. These masterful innovations justified the self-proclaimed
sobriquet the Chettiars gave themselves—Nagarathars or the
‘sophisticated townsfolk’. Even today, Chettinad is a heritage zone dotted
with the palatial homes that are called Nattukottais (land-forts).
Less
than a hundred years after they were built, however, a third of these palaces
are wrecked and those remaining are poorly maintained and virtually abandoned.
The remaining homes, which number less than ten percent, are well kept and
sporadically occupied. With the end of the colonial era, political upheavals
sank many a Chettiar fortune, leaving the community astray and in debt. The Land
Purchase Act that came into force in 1941, in Burma, saw entire holdings
liquidated. Many people who were almost princes became paupers.
Some
survived and shifted to more lucrative, technology-driven, industry-centered
ventures in the state and elsewhere after India attained its independence, but
most did not. Grand ancestral homes, the epicenter of the many ritual life
cycles of the community, were sold for a song to marauding armies of antiquity
brokers. Along with the winds of change that swept globalized economies, the
world appeared to move away from Chettinad. Nevertheless, even today, whispering
through these virtual ghost towns is a history that is alive and amazing.
In
harmony with nature
Activists
and NGOs are now working to revive and restore arts and crafts that are on the
brink of obliteration. The Chettinad sari, for example, used a unique two-ply
yarn called eerily. These saris were hand-woven by the local weaver and sold
door-to- door in the region. The common colours they used were yellow, orange,
red and black. Originally, the colours were natural but they were later replaced
by imported chemical dyes. Today, as the market adapts cunningly to find what it
wants, Chettinad saris have acquired the modern distinction of being a
sought-after fashion statement.
Another
original technique called lime or egg plastering, involved the application of a
finely ground mixture of powdered shells, lime, jaggery and spices, including
gallnut (myrobalan), to walls. After plastering, the surface was gently sponged
with a fine piece of cloth as the plaster ‘sweated’ out its moisture. This
technique keeps the interior of the house cool in the hot and humid Indian
summers and lasts for a lifetime, or longer. The muted shine and even appearance
of the final finish actually comes from the egg whites. Today, this too is a
dying tradition, a victim of chemical substitutes like acrylic distempers and
plastic emulsions.
The
architectural structure of a typical Chettiar home is a study in how human
dwellings can be in harmony with nature. High ceilinged and airy, the house has
several courtyards within—the one near the entrance leads to the imposing main
door, usually made of extraordinarily intricate wood carvings of mythological
figures. Here is the thinnai—a raised platform that served as a
meeting place and also as accommodation for travelers who, in days when the
fastest transport was a bullock cart, could halt overnight en route to their
destination. The inner courtyard has special significance—lined with
classically beautiful pillars made from granite or teakwood, it served as the
venue for the many elaborate ceremonies that the community performed, from birth
to marriage to death.
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The
exterior facade of the house of the erstwhile Raja of Chettinad
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Open
to the sky, welcoming sunshine and rainfall into the house, the mutram is
the focal point of any old home. The four corners of the courtyard represent the
directions of the universe. The open structure lets in good ventilation and
light; letting the sun be a witness to the ceremonies held within its walls.
There are elaborate drainage arrangements along the corners of the slanted roof
that collect rainwater in brass pots placed on top of granite slabs, preventing
the floor tiles from breaking. Layered red tiling, that absorbs very little
heat, is the most common form of roofing. Most Chettinad houses are so large and
sprawling that some of them are built across two parallel streets. They often
straddle more than one block and have two main entrances, one on each street;
sometimes they even have two postal addresses!
Passageways
along the length of the house, on both sides, branch off into rooms that serve
as private quarters. Depending on the wealth and status of the family, there may
be an additional floor with more rooms. The kitchen always occupies the rear of
the house, with a courtyard of its own that is more functional and less
embellished. It was from here that the frugal hands of old aachis (a generic,
respectful address of Chettiar women, meaning ‘older sister’) prepared an
ambrosial repertoire of literally scores of vegetarian and non-vegetarian
dishes. As in everything else, Chettiars never overdid the spices, preferring a
subtle sensibility that showed how less could always mean more. Freshly ground
coriander, cumin, pepper, fenugreek, anise and sweet stick are only some of the
myriad flavors that debunk the theory that spicy means ‘hot’. Any
self-respecting aachi would therefore be most disapproving of the pungent
and oily menus that pass for popular Chettinad food in restaurants across modern
Indian cities.
Contribution
to Charity
Perhaps
one of the reasons why the community commands such respect and affection is
their yeoman contribution to charity. The term ‘traditional philanthropists’
could apply to their sustained and generous contributions to education,
healthcare and temples in the region and elsewhere. They also built rest houses
and water-supply facilities for travelers, and feeding-houses to nourish the
poor. As devoted Shaivites (worshippers of Lord Shiva), they built new temples
and repaired old ones. Temples were the primary institutions around which the
Chettiars built their lives.
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The
"Ravadi's"( palangmine carried in praise of Lord
Muringa )
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Like
the land they made theirs, Chettiars were raised to be austere. Even when they
were cared for in the midst of riches, both monetary as well as artistic, they
practiced frugality as a custom. Take, for example, the vatti—traditionally
a bowl that women eat their rice from, the groom’s mother usually presented
the vatti, customarily silver, to the bride. It also means
‘interest’ or ‘income’—mothers-in-law advised the new bride to ‘eat
off the vatti’, meaning live off your income and never overspend. Still
today, the community considers flaunting wealth to be in poor taste.
Even
now, the empty streets and silent mansions of this mirage-like land come alive
with sudden spontaneity. The wood speaks, gold shines, silver shimmers, saris
dazzle—and visitors blink. Families return periodically to revel in
celebrations and mourn their losses. Like so many old cultures, it is a land
that is at a crossroads. There are serious efforts underway to revive and
restore, research and respect. The older generation is finding newer ways to
preserve the truths that are the collective heritage, although some pages are
already missing from this precious book. Technology helps, as does a refreshing
resurgence in historical pride. There are struggles and setbacks; there is also
hope. This story, fortunately, has not yet ended.
*
Lalitha Sridhar
is a Chennai-based freelance journalist keenly interested in development issues.
Your emails will be forwarded to her by contacting the editor at:
bridge@islamonline.net
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