Picture this: A wide street flanked by quaint Anglo-Indian cottages with lace-trimmed windows on one side, and reputed institutions such as hospitals and places of worship on the other. West Madha Church Street was where people took leisurely strolls looking at the sea just yonder, while trams trundled past at regular intervals, ferrying people from Royapuram to the rest of Madras, once a walled city. Workers set to be shipped as plantation labourers to other British colonies outside of India were often interred here. While fisher folk proudly shaped what is now an important area in North Madras, they built the iconic St Peter’s Church in Royapuram, an area which derives its name from the church; Royappar is Tamil for St Peter.
Today, the lace-trimmed windows have faded into the distant past, and have made way instead for houses with tiled façades, built choc-a-block. The trams only trundle in people’s memories; the tracks nowhere to be seen. Motor cars, autorickshaws and two wheelers instead, are the preferred modes of transport. Where once the waves crashing on the shore was a familiar background sound, now it is the excited chatter of little boys in blue, who spill out of the gates of St Peter’s School, attached to the church.
Where harmony exists
As Royapuram stands its own against the crush of modernity, West Madha Church Street continues to be known for its most unique feature — it is also called the Street of Perfect Harmony. It is, after all, home to two churches (St Peter’s and Mater Dolorosa), a Parsi Fire Temple and a Dargah, all within walking distance of each other. If the church bells toll after every mass and prayer, the azaan from the dargah calls Muslims to pray every day, while the Fire Temple hosts the small Parsi population of the city.
According to Bernard D’Sami, an expert in history and political science and professor at Loyola Research Park, “In Royapuram, West, East, North and South Madha Streets form a square. But the unique feature about West Madha Church Street is that it has both residences and institutions. And of course, this was the only street through which the tram lines ran back in the day.”
Nautical reverence
He adds that each of the places of worship on the street has its own significance. St Peter’s Church, for instance, was built in 1829 by the Mudaliars, the leading community at the time. “The church has the statue of Our Lady of Voyage inside, and she holds a boat in one hand. Very significant for the fishing community in the region. In fact, when you look at the church itself, you will realise that when viewed from any vantage point, it is shaped like a ship. Currently, it is painted in light blue, reminiscent of the sea. They’ve always favoured the colours of the sea for the church, given its significance,” he says.
Interestingly, the street was once home to three Catholic churches. “Two of these are still open to the public — St Peter’s and Mater Dolorosa. The third is attached to the Missionaries of Charity and is currently in use by the nuns of the institution. Back in the day, St Peter’s served the needs of the fishing community, Mater Dolorosa was for the Anglo- Indians and Missionaries of Charity church was a parish church for the others. Today, however, the latter is closed to the public,” says D’Sami.
Coloured red
The street was once a hub for the Anglo-Indian population of Madras. However, as the Chennai Port began exporting iron ore and coal, pollution issues led to a lot of them relocating to other parts of the city or abroad. “There was a time when for six months of the year, the entire area would be blanketed in fine black dust from the coal being transported from here. The remainder of the year would see everything stained red from the iron ore. Even milk and water were stained red; the elderly had red-tinged hair from all the pollution. Ten years back, this was a major cause for environmental and health hazards in the area,” explains D’Sami.
Today, however, the coal and iron ore operations have been moved to Ennore, giving the residents of the area respite. But speak to any person here, and they fondly recall Margaret Burns, a former Anglo-Indian resident, who was the first to create awareness about iron ore pollution back in the 1970s. “She, along with others, petitioned the Government to spray iron ore and coal with water, so the dust settled and the pollution wasn’t as bad. She is commonly known as Doosi Missy here; Missy being the term attached to Anglo-Indian women,” recalls D’Sami.
Royapuram memories
The professor, himself a resident of Royapuram, has fond memories of the area. “My wife was born and brought up here and I moved here 30 years ago, when I bought a house. My father worked with the Electricity Board and always wanted to settle in Royapuram. It is such a calm and neat place. In fact, it is one of the better planned areas in Chennai, as it was specifically planned as a residential locality by the British. During the floods two years ago, Royapuram was unaffected; there was no water logging, with uninterrupted electricity, water and milk supply,” he says.
The area is also home to one of the city’s oldest railway stations. The Royapuram station was once a busy terminus with plenty of rail activity. As operations gradually moved to Central Station, Royapuram became a skeletal shadow of its former self. Walk into the compound, and you’ll see that the station is a mere shell of its former structure. Even the placard reading ‘Royapuram Station’ is placed upside down.
Today, the area has very few Anglo-Indians left. It is instead home to a large number of Muslims. “There are several Tamil Muslims in the area today, and also plenty of Bohra Muslims, especially around Armenian Street and the streets adjacent to it. In fact, where the dargah now stands next to Montfort Brothers on West Madha Church Street, used to once stand a Protestant church,” says D’Sami.
While people come and go and Royapuram becomes home to people from different communities, the area still has an old-world charm. As the city continues to expand its boundaries North Madras continues to be the place where the city began. The streets might be more crowded and modern structures might jostle for space next to vestiges of history. But ever so often, if you look back at these areas, you might just picture a trundling tram and see the sea a lot closer.
(This is the second of a six-part series that looks at various neighbourhoods in North Chennai, as part of Madras Week)