Tag: Indian

“Every dreamer knows that it is entirely possible to be homesick for a place you’ve never been to, perhaps more homesick than for familiar ground.”
Judith Thurman

This year has been a bit of a travel story. Yet when food meets regional cuisine, it cooks up a charming new story each time not matter which part of the world you go to. India is no different, but it is much more complex. Every city surprises you with so much variety that regional cuisine takes up a new avatar. A trip to Lakshman Sagar in Rajasthan early this year, then a much planned and absolutely exciting trip into Banaras the next month filled my head with stories, the camera with images that would live to tell the tale, and the stomach so full. As if that wasn’t enough, there was one more trip that was surreal.This one. To Karaikudi. What’s that? Where? Huh? Those were the questions folk asked when they heard the 3 of us, Sanjeeta, Madhuli and I were bound for the Chettinad region. It’s not everyday that one would head to Karaikudi, a city buried deep down south, an overnight train journey from Chennai. To be honest, it was a pretty hair-brained plan, a plan to shop, eat, to catch up with each other after we met at the IFBM 2 years ago. Also a plan to explore a region that had long fascinated me, with stories from Sanjeeta who’d been there several times. I had dreamt about it for a few years.Nothing prepares you for what you might see, or rather experience in this region. As the train slowed down entering the suburbs of Puddukotai, we got a tiny glimpse – an abandoned mansion, tall pillars, arches, tiled roof, large yard, hidden stories, right in the middle of nowhere! As the train pulled into Chettinad, a neat little almost private station, it’s a different time zone altogether. Alongside the station lies the former resting house of the Raja of Chettinad, and you enter a fascinating part of history.

Slow country life, no one in a hurry, gentle quiet folk, the echo of chai/coffee, sun already sharp 7am, azure blue skies, monkeys bouncing off trees. History greets you as you hit the highway. In the distance the Thirumayam Fort, a fortress built by the Raja of Ramnad in 1687 stands tall. Next to it, a rock cut temple. Karaikudi the biggest city in Sivaganga district is known as the capital of Chettinad, because of the predominance of the ‘Nattu Kottai Chettiars’. This elite business community, a prosperous group of bankers/money lenders, expanded their business to South and South East Asia in the 19th and 20th century, mainly towards Ceylon and Burma. Changing winds of trade and world politics eventually led them backto India, where they made this their traditional base.This 600 acre region is home to 74 villages. Barren roads, scant traffic, an odd scooter/moped, cattle, laid back lifestyle, huge mansions, local Chettinad food and temples dominate the landscape. Paddy fields, fresh ground spices, temples, tall trees, tiled roofs, community water tanks, roosters, cattle, peacocks pretty much make up the local environment. And those mansions! That is possibly the most fascinating part of the Chettinad, a rich cultural heritage hidden deep in South India.

While the area is dotted by almost 20,000 massive mansions, most have fallen to decay. Stripped by greedy antique dealers, locked over custody battles, or just plain abandoned, a few have been painstakingly restored to their former glory. Painstakingly indeed because it is no minor task given the power, opulence and finances this money lending community enjoyed. One such lovingly restored residence is the Chidambaram Vilas, a luxury heritage property near Karaikudi, that we experienced on our short visit there.

The heritage rooms at Chidambara Vilas recreates the ambience of authentic Chettiar lifestyles. This is visible in the attention to details, from the vintage hand operated panka fans to even the switches which are designed in a format from a previous era. This is also reflected in the furnishings to the lighting and the design elements like Athangudi tiles, the wooden roofing and panelling. The rooms at Chidambara Vilas are the most authentic Chettiar experience available today, and is the result of a painstaking effort at renovation, which involved the use of innovative and creative techniques to blend old world charm without compromising on luxury.

One step into the cool interiors of Chidambaram Vilas, the reception yielding way to covered corridors, stone courtyards, fine wood work, Italian marble, carved beams in Burma teak, handmade tiles, egg white washed walls, fine chandeliers, grandfather clocks. You know this is something special, maybe more than special. The interiors aren’t very flashy yet scream good quality and craftsmanship, refined taste and a subdued grandeur reflective of the Chettiars. Tranquility defined our stay there, a strange peace and quiet that one craves for. The perfect symmetry held my attention, the intricate designs mesmerising. Pillars, wooden beams, tiles, stained glass, doors, chairs, windows, arches – everything handcrafted in beautiful patterns. Unbelievable. The aesthetics, the colour palette, the soothing marble meets wood and wood meets marble.

The sheer scale of near royal magnificence cannot be put into words. I tried to capture some of this well restored heritage property that took about 3 years to be brought back to its former glory. There are a clutch of heritage properties that operate out of restored mansions in the region. Staying here comes at a bit of a cost, but it’s justified. You won’t find this anywhere in the world. It’s difficult to imagine that some of the finest residential properties of the world are nested here in a rather unknown corner of the world. Every minute here was worth our time. Here just for 2 days and a night, we decided to make most of our precious trip. Cuisine, architecture and temples are the three things that seem to define Chettinad.

A temple every 200 yards or so, and a good chance of coming eye to eye with a rooster in the next! Tea and coffee roadside shacks, deep fried snacks, palm jaggery, rangolis, fresh produce, flowers to offer God, water bodies, well laid out roads, old mansions, simple folk, cows, cricket, so much in this scorching heat. Oh yes, and little kids dressed in their Sunday best for the quintessential temple visit.

India is absolutely fascinating! We immersed ourselves in the ambiance, authentic and exciting, both at Chidambaram Vilas and driving around the region.  The Chettinad belt is possibly most famous across the world for its cuisine as the Chettiars specialised in good food. The most famous of course is the Chettinadu Chicken Curry for which we had a masterclass at Chidambaram Vilas. My other companions, vegetarians to boot, were ready to devour the curry once made as it smelt SO GOOD. Of course I came back and stirred one at home, and will share the chefs version soon. The Chettinadu Chicken Curry is as simple as it is flavourful. Very frugal, basic pantry ingredients resulted in delicious curry, finger licking good curry! As characteristic of regional Indian cuisine, every household has its own version.The women of the community were instrumental to managing the vast estates and running kitchens, often while the men were away. Easily available local spices and ingredients, traditional cooking methods and a deep interest in food led to a vast repertoire of recipes collectively called Chettinad cuisine. Chettinad chicken is the regions most popular export to the culinary world, and it was nowhere fiery and spicy as I believed. A traditional recipe, it is made with very basic ingredients, spice mixes from roasted spices, ginger, garlic, shallots, tomatoes, curry leaves and of course coconut paste. Meals served Chettiar style, on banana leaves, make up a typical lunch meal, as lavish and as filling as it sounds. Beginning with a rasam, drumstick or beetroot, a sweet rice offering, a line of kuttoos, pickles, chutneys, papad, crispy fried banana chips, dal vada, rice, sambhar, quintessential drizzle of ghee, fried fish, yogurt raita, a sago pudding or payasam to finish. The helping might be just a tbsp each, yet by then end of the meal you can barely move. We retired to our room for an hour, and then set out under the blazing sun to look around Karaikudi. A visit to the local market was delightful. Small scale sellers, FRESH greens, organic produce, a very ‘farm to table’ slow living existence. They are a self sufficient community. You find everything and more there. Vegetables, sacks of spices, coconuts, coconut graters, rope, cast iron pans, woven baskets, pickling jars.A step deeper into the market into dusty unnamed by-lanes revealed treasures we’ve been waiting for. Karaikudi is virtually a shoppers paradise for vintage lovers and collectors. It’s not easy to get around and communicate as language is a hindrance so do get a good local guide {or a willing local friend as was our case}. Begin walking and wander around nameless little alleyways, up nondescript staircases, into dusty rooms and keep your eyes open. You never know what you might spot! Kitchen collectibles is what we went for, and that we got plenty of, or rather saw!Enamelware by the truckload, every shape and size makes your heartbeat race, race too quick. Yet there is only that much you can stuff into a suitcase, so it’s more a feast for your eyes. Rows upon rows of kitchenware which once made up dowry for new Chettiar brides line every nook and corner. Nothing comes cheap anymore. Different quality cook and serve ware demands different prices, including fine quality enamelware from Sweden and Czechoslovakia. Most enamelware was never used, still with labels on from a 100 years ago, as it didn’t suit local traditional cooking methods. It was local tradition to gift the Chettiar bride fine imported enamelware, crystal, silverware etc. Most enamelware has landed up in sheds for sale. There was loads of brass ware too as it is hardly used in houses now, stainless steel having won the battle of modern day cookware!

Most shops are a cornucopia of everything. An odd chandelier hangs lonely from the ceiling, a rocking chair high up on a shelf, enamelware and earthenware mixed up, some china that’s lost its family, odd pieces, dust laden. Family portraits dumped into large rooms, once lovingly shot in studios and framed for grand walls, now on sale without buyers. Every piece had perhaps a hidden story of glorious days gone by, days that fell to nought with depleting fortunes.

The second world war called an end to the golden age of the Chettiar moneylenders as local politics meant the shut down of banking businesses in Myanmar, Burma etc. Their massive fortunes disappeared overnight, the community forced to return to India. While they still are a very influential banking community in India, especially down south, those days of glory never returned. Large hand crafted iron keys and infinite heavy safes in all sizes and dimensions stand silent testimony to the times gone by. You can imagine the fortunes they guarded!Early morning we attempted to see sunrise from the rooftop of the Chidambaram Vilas. Up a spiral stairwell in pitch dark, the seemingly never-ending stone steps were like a page out of an Enid Blyton book, mysterious and almost claustrophobic. One step onto the rooftop of and it was just another world. The tops of the Vilas bathed in early morning light were a stunning sight. Beautiful architecture, palatial mansions as far as the eye could see. Most of them abandoned, in a state of neglect, yet the vastness of the community in good times was palpable. Each house has its own architecture, its individual character, bits and bobs from Ceylon, maybe Burma. Yet most big mansions follow a similar basic layout. An external entrance area/courtyard, a reception, an inner enclosed hallway, then maybe a private courtyard bathed in sunlight often covered by grills, surrounded my numerous living quarters, separate dining areas for every course, outhouses for staff, community and private kitchens etc.

The houses hold hidden tales of the golden years, of untold riches, of classy extravagance beyond belief. Just when you think you’ve seen it all, you wake up to the foolish knowledge that this is just the tip of the iceberg. Most mansions are jaw dropping from within. One such house we stopped by to see was Laxmi Vilas, which has been maintained like a local museum and charges a fee to look around. Quite an unassuming property, a small entrance right on the street, yet one step within and it’s like entering a period home where India meets Europe.

Italian marble, mirrors from Belgium, Belgian tiles that cover the floor and ceiling, gold touched fittings, hand painted frescoes both from Europe and local mythology, Burma teak pillars. Outer courtyards that yield way to inner courtyards, that further yield way inner most courtyard, doors with numbers, tiles that celebrate an era of plenty, dining rooms to seat hundreds, with wooden beams and high ceilings, woodwork on wooden ceilings that feel like a church in England, stained glass, doors and windows that open in all directions. Some opening into outhouses, huge community kitchens, everything reflecting meticulous planning and superior quality. There was a method to the design, deeply thought and well executed. Every door and window made to exact specs, hand-carved wooden beams, etched glass, murals. The mind wonders, ‘HOW? How was so much even possible?’ Prime teak from Burma was tied to ships sailing across high seas and delivered to Indian shores, well seasoned by sea water along the way. The teak still stands tall. The same for spiral wrought iron staircases from Manchester. Failing fortunes meant a generation of artisans lost, livelihoods lost to politics of the world.Yet another heritage property we stopped by was Visalam. That is another stunning ‘experience hotel, an 80 year old traditional home built by a father as a gift for his daughter. It has a hugely colonial feel to it, yellow verandahs, bougainvilleas, water harvesting pots, shaded courtyards, lush green lawns, a traditional kitchen and master classes, an in house baker, a spiral staircase imported from Manchester, big game room drenched with rays of the setting sun, Belgian mirrors, vintage Phillip radio, old ceiling fans, board games – every detail so fascinating. We were invited to Visalam for a meal, but with our tight schedule all we managed was a hurried cup of coffee, a delicious wholewheat banana cashew loaf cake baked inhouse, and addictive  paniyarams served in a quaint poolside cafe. Bliss! Such a pretty place, and so vastly different from the others. So much character! Most luxury properties built pools later; that was not part of local culture a 100 years ago.Most villages with mansions are well laid out, in a grid system, where often it is one mansion per street. A look down and you can see the whole house, one end to the other, then visualise what lies behind the tall stone walls. Several garage doors, doors to outhouses, little balconies all open into side streets.

The main porch shines like a beacon and opens into the main street. The richer the Chettiar, the bigger his mansion, the closer it often is to the center of the village. The centre often has a community water body, with a temple alongside. Interestingly, the region houses one little village that is under 100% CCTV coverage. The mansions here have too many valuables within to ship out, so this particular community got together to secure the village!In the short time we were in Karaikudi, we also managed a trip into Athangudi to see how floor tiles are made. Tile making here is a traditional local craft. Tiles handmade here are in vibrant colours, reflective of the rich cultural heritage of the Chettiar community. They have their own distinct charm.

It’s a fascinating process, a skill which is slowly fading away, yet is world famous. The tiles are handmade mixing white cement, sand and pigments, then poured into molds. With increasing wear and tear on Belgian tiles, it became expensive to constantly import them. That created a demand for local tiles, and the artisans believed that the earth from their land was best suited for these.

Designs from European tiles were replicated and mixed with local colours to develop a characteristic local specialty in dusty hot corrugated roofed sheds. These tiles are 100% handmade, eco friendly and are being used across hotels and homes in the region. The process is time consuming, labour intensive, and also a dying legacy due to limited artisans. They are quite expensive and have carved a small niche for themselves.

What we didn’t manage was to see was the weaving of cotton sarees that are special to the region, the kandaangis. In earthy bold hues like the colours of the rising and setting southern sun, orange, red and black dominate the weave. If Banarsi saris are inspired by the hues of sunrise, then the kandaangi weave truly meets the sun on the other side. A stop by the weavers was on our list of things to do, but we just couldn’t manage it. We’ll be back!Still we managed much more than we could ever imagine. 2 days can never be enough for a place as beautifully, and as historically and culturally rich like this. I’d definitely like to go back again, maybe when it is cooler. There’s so much more to explore, so many heritage sites in the region, ongoing ASI excavations, forts, temples, artisans, kitchens. Also so many more doors and windows, small things that fascinate me. Here are some I managed to capture.Incredible! Just so incredible!!

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