A lot, it would seem. Especially if you lived where I live.
When I left Madras, MGR had just become a "doctor", Miss Jayalalitha had yet to achieve "doctor"hood or motherhood ("amma"), she was still Jayalalitha and not Jayalalithaa. Heck she hadn't even become Revolutionary Leader (Puratchi Thalaivi). Headaches were still ordinary, common headaches and not revolutionary ones (puratchi thalaivali). Later on some mischievously tended to conflate such headaches with certain leader's title.
First take the city itself (although we tended to feel that it was less a city and more a large village then; news of you - especially about your dalliances- got home quicker than you did, with predictable consequences). It was called Madras, lending itself to some wonderful limericks which rhymed with that. Take this one for example:
There was a young lady from Madras
Who had a magnificent ass
Not round and pink,
As you'd probably think;
But was grey, had long years and ate grass.
Yes, those were the days when Pansy was a flower and gay meant being happy and you didn't refer to female anatomy, period ( with or without three-lettered American anatomical terms). Not in public anyway. There is yet another limerick which we all learnt furtively and giggled at even more furtively which made use of the same rhyming scheme, but with references to brass, human rear end, some dangly bits, and stormy weather. Where then did the name Madras originate? No one knows. The issue used to be debated even in erudite conferences. One answer was that it came from "Madrassa" but no one could pinpoint one such establishment in or around the city as it existed circa early 18th century. Another explanation, albeit a laboured one, was that it derived from "Maadarasi", or a "great woman / Good woman", purportedly a princess whose dowry included the town (do I detect Bombay-envy here? It is well-known that the latter was part of the dowry of the Portugese princess who wed Charles II). Having failed to find an adequate explanation of the name, it was decided to change the colonial name in favour of something home-grown. Contrary to mischievous suggestions the change of name had nothing whatsoever to do with failure to uplift people, alleviate poverty, make lives better, etc etc. Some would say anything to discredit political classes.
Thus was born Chennai. Some mischievously suggest that Chennai is not really Tamil , but diminutive form of Chenna Pattinam which in Telugu meant Good Town.
There is no pleasing some people
Herein lies the key to the "revolutionary" aspect of the popular Tamil honorifics: all vestiges of colonialism have been mercilessly and systematically erased through re-naming of the city, its avenues, roads, streets, plazas and public spaces.People have been gifted a spanking new city (in name) for the cost of none. Isnt that wonderful?
The detractors continue to crib about the lack of / condition of roads, hospitals and the like; but there is no pleasing some people....
When I left Madras, MGR had just become a "doctor", Miss Jayalalitha had yet to achieve "doctor"hood or motherhood ("amma"), she was still Jayalalitha and not Jayalalithaa. Heck she hadn't even become Revolutionary Leader (Puratchi Thalaivi). Headaches were still ordinary, common headaches and not revolutionary ones (puratchi thalaivali). Later on some mischievously tended to conflate such headaches with certain leader's title.
First take the city itself (although we tended to feel that it was less a city and more a large village then; news of you - especially about your dalliances- got home quicker than you did, with predictable consequences). It was called Madras, lending itself to some wonderful limericks which rhymed with that. Take this one for example:
There was a young lady from Madras
Who had a magnificent ass
Not round and pink,
As you'd probably think;
But was grey, had long years and ate grass.
Yes, those were the days when Pansy was a flower and gay meant being happy and you didn't refer to female anatomy, period ( with or without three-lettered American anatomical terms). Not in public anyway. There is yet another limerick which we all learnt furtively and giggled at even more furtively which made use of the same rhyming scheme, but with references to brass, human rear end, some dangly bits, and stormy weather. Where then did the name Madras originate? No one knows. The issue used to be debated even in erudite conferences. One answer was that it came from "Madrassa" but no one could pinpoint one such establishment in or around the city as it existed circa early 18th century. Another explanation, albeit a laboured one, was that it derived from "Maadarasi", or a "great woman / Good woman", purportedly a princess whose dowry included the town (do I detect Bombay-envy here? It is well-known that the latter was part of the dowry of the Portugese princess who wed Charles II). Having failed to find an adequate explanation of the name, it was decided to change the colonial name in favour of something home-grown. Contrary to mischievous suggestions the change of name had nothing whatsoever to do with failure to uplift people, alleviate poverty, make lives better, etc etc. Some would say anything to discredit political classes.
Thus was born Chennai. Some mischievously suggest that Chennai is not really Tamil , but diminutive form of Chenna Pattinam which in Telugu meant Good Town.
There is no pleasing some people
Herein lies the key to the "revolutionary" aspect of the popular Tamil honorifics: all vestiges of colonialism have been mercilessly and systematically erased through re-naming of the city, its avenues, roads, streets, plazas and public spaces.People have been gifted a spanking new city (in name) for the cost of none. Isnt that wonderful?
The detractors continue to crib about the lack of / condition of roads, hospitals and the like; but there is no pleasing some people....
The first time my father recited the
ReplyDelete"There was a man from Madras
Whose balls were made of brass..."
limerick, it was at the dinner table at home, making it both wildly inappropriate and hilariously appropriate; one must know about one's culture and its forms of expression, after all.