Chennai – Birthplace of Empire; or saving the least till last

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Day 2 in Chennai and the first stop is Fort St George. (Skip the rest of this paragraph if you’re not interested in history!) The fort was built by the British East India Company on land granted to them by the local Nayak ruler in 1639 and completed on St. George's Day 1640. It was established as a fortified trading post, not as the basis for military expansion or the creation of an Empire, whatever revisionist historians might argue. From its establishment by Royal Charter granted by Elizabeth I in 1600, the Company was only interested in trade. It regarded war as unfavourable to trade. However as events transpired over the next centuries, Fort St. George, which was the foundation of Madras town and became the seat of the Madras Presidency of the Company, was the cornerstone on which British rule in India, and the creation of the British Empire, was built.

History lesson over. The sun is shining, and we imagine there will be lots of walking around the site, visiting all the old buildings, which will be nicely preserved in aspic as they would be in the UK or the US. Wrong. The first hint that maybe the place was not quite what we thought was when we were asked to record our passport numbers as we entered. Even for a country as fond of bureaucracy as India is, that’s unusual. It transpires the site is now the home of the army and navy headquarters in Chennai. There are naval officers in white uniforms and female police officers brandishing swagger sticks everywhere. At almost every turn, there is a sign saying no entry. We visit the museum, which has some interesting sections and some exceptionally dull ones. St Mary's church, the oldest Anglican church in India built in 1680, is still intact, and there we encounter our first foreign tourists of the trip, in the shape of a coachload of Brits and one of Japanese. Among the memorial stones is one to the memory of the vicar, who is confusingly described as having shown ‘sedulous and temperate zeal’ in his efforts to convert the heathen. Next we follow a sign hoping to visit Clive of India’s house, but are turned away on the grounds that it is now an office. We find some of the original buildings but they have been abused and are hidden behind hoardings.

Somewhat disappointed, we find Mr Hussain and set off for the government museum. 15 rupees entrance fee for Indians, 250 for foreigners. Now, that it is still cheap if there is something worth seeing.... The museum was opened in 1857 and most sections appear not to have changed since then. The early galleries of sculptures, which seemed a bit dull, prove to be among the highlights of the trip. The zoology section offered light amusement for the sheer awfulness of the exhibits. Cases full of animal skeletons, or parts thereof, are followed by some of the worst taxidermy ever seen, featuring animals that seemed to have died of old age and mange. Even that beats the botany section hands down. We find some nice bronzes but that is a temporary uplift. The next building features anthropology which should have been a warning. Actually, it is a warning, but David likes to get full value from any visit and we certainly didn’t feel we’d had much thus far. The building itself, which was built by the British in 1789 is actually quite impressive, though horribly run down, but the exhibits – well, let’s just say that the boomerangs of Tamil Nadu are possibly one of the more interesting cases.



Defeated, we retired to the hotel, to relax and read our books for the afternoon. Later, Sara decides she’d like another look at the jewellery on sale at the craft bazaar over the road from the hotel. It’s a short walk, but takes a long time owing to the problem of crossing the road. It’s at a junction, and there are traffic lights, so you might think there’d be no problem. However, red stop lights are only suggestive in India, and traffic continues to flow in at least two of three directions at all times. Eventually, we find three Indian women also waiting to cross, and hang back until they set off, gesturing us to follow. We thank them profusely once safely over. On the return journey, there is no such luck, until we spot a traffic policeman loitering nearby. ‘Please can you help us?’ He beams and marches into the road holding up his arm to stop the traffic, and we set off confidently behind him. One tuk tuk stops at his command, while the rest of the traffic continues unabated, some yelling at him to get out of the way. Somehow, we make it safely across to the other side and retreat back to the safety of the hotel. It took over half an hour for our dinner to be served last night, so we opt for room service where we can carry on reading and editing photos.

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