Tharangambadi - The Place of the Singing Waves

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It was an early winter morning. I was on a smoke break with my friend and colleague Ben. After a grueling night shift this smoke discussion had to be something interesting. I like this guy because his information and knowledge are quite authentic which is missing amongst most of my office colleagues. We were discussing about Pondicherry and the forgone French cultural surroundings. Suddenly, I heard the name ‘Tharangambadi’ for the first time from Ben. He is a Christian guy and regularly pays visit to The Velankini Church. He said that Tharangambadi was between Chidambaram and Karaikal. I knew about these two places for their own cultural receptiveness however never heard of Tharangambadi before.

I am no longer a young lad now, almost crossed 35 years of my life. The more my ‘grey hair’ growing in numbers, the more I am trying to become a ‘Jack of all trades’. Thanks to the world of internet. After reaching home, at least I had some food for thought. Upon researching, found a lot of interesting details about Tharangambadi.

Tharangambadi means the "place of the singing waves". It is a small village in Nagapattinam district, 15 km from the Port Town, Karaikal and about 121km from Pondicherry. In 1620, Danish East India Company formed their settlement here and named this place as ‘Tranquebar’. A factory (commercial settlement) was opened and a fort, known as Fort Dansborg, was built by a Danish captain named Ove Gjedde. This fort was the residence and headquarters of the governor and other officials for about 150 years. It was a Danish colony from 1620 to 1845, and in Danish it is still known as Trankebar.It was very interesting information indeed. I heard about other Danish Colonies in India, like Port Blair and Sreerampore in West Bengal however Tharagambadi was rather unknown to me. Years passed by, I was looking for a chance to visit this place. Finally, when I decided to visit Thirunallar temple, somehow I found Tharangambadi was closer by. But, again the time was too tight to visit this place. Nevertheless, as I decided, so no way looking back.

It was around 11 am and I was hovering around the bus stand of Kumbakonam. I was looking for a bus to Tharangambadi. After a few failed enquires; I found that it was either busses don’t ply from Kumbakonam to Tharangambadi or people here in Kumbakonam were not aware of this place. I was really in a big disguise on what to do next. Suddenly, there was a guy who came forward and rescued me from this hullaballoo. As per his suggestion, I was supposed to take a bus to Mayiladuthurai from here and from there I would be getting plenty of buses to Tharangambadi. Without wasting any more time, I boarded a bus which was ready to go to Mayiladuthurai. The ride from Kumbakonam to Mayiladuthurai was usually a ride through small villages and towns. It was 35 km and the bus took more than an hour to reach Mayiladuthurai. It was a small town and nothing much to describe. I looked at my watch, it was 12:30pm and I knew that I didn’t have much time left. I checked with a few local folks but didn’t get a convincing answer about the buses to Tharangambadi. I waited for more than 45 minutes. I saw one bus arrived but before I could get my foot on that bus, it was all filled up. The next bus didn’t show up in 30 minutes. It was 1:30 pm, I was really tensed. Finally, I just walked out of the bus stand and found a couple of taxis were parked outside. I fixed one of them for Rs. 700/-. The guy would drop me at Thirunallar via Tharangambadi. Mayiladuthurai to Tharangambadi was around 30km so it was not a tough deal. The guy’s name was Muthu, seemed to be nice fellow. We started from Mayiladuthurai in next 10 minutes. The ride was just beautiful. Tall trees, dark tar road with a lot of twisting turns and curves.

We took no less than 45 minutes to reach Tranquebar. As mentioned earlier, it was a small village with not many settlements around. We entered the Danish Colony after crossing a big gateway. Wow ! it was a different world. It seemed, I was in some foreign country enriched with historical buildings. In next 5 minutes, I was in front the Dansborg Fort which I have longed to see for years. It was a Sunday, so as expected a few locals were enjoying the weekend evening. I paid Rs.5 for entry ticket and Rs. 30 for still camera.

I walked in. Just next to the main entrance, there was a small stone on the right which describes what Tranquebar was all about. This fort was constructed in 1620 though it had been reconstructed several times. The rampart wall is a fairly large four sided structure, with bastions at each cardinal point. A single storied building was constructed along three inner sides of the rampart, with barracks, warehouse, kitchen and jail. The rooms on the southern side remain in good condition, but the rooms on the western and northern sides have been substantially damaged. On the eastern side of the fort, there was a two storied building facing the sea. It was the main building of the fort. The vaulted lower storey served as a magazine and a warehouse, while the vaulted upper storey contained the church and the lodging of the governor, the senior merchants and the chaplain. The sea on the eastern and western side protected the fort. I decided to take stroll from left to right. This is actually a small fort. If you would expect an ‘Agra fort’ or a ‘Junagadh fort’ you would be surprised. This fort has a small museum which bestows a few mementos of the bygones. I found a small canon was placed overlooking the sea which seemed never been fired. It didn’t take more than 30 minutes for me to explore this fort but the fort had something which was dragging me to visit again and again. Locals claimed that during the devastating Tsunami in 2004 this fort had a close shave. I walked out and found a few fishermen were busy doing their daily business. A couple of colorful boats were sleeping at the shore. One Young Turk was watching me for sometime as I was clicking snaps. Upon asking, he requested me to click one snap with his friends. His name was Ramu and he earns his living by catching fishes around the coast of Tharangambadi. I walked to the left side of the beach and found a small temple. I knew that this temple was partially damaged during Tsunami and had been reconstructed recently. I was clicking around and did notice one villager was offering his mid day prayer. His name was Chiniyan. I stroke up a small chat with him.

‘How long have you been staying here?’, was my question

‘Since my dad,my grand father all of them were born here’, it was a straight answer.

‘I heard that this temple was damaged during Tsunami’, sounded a bit stupid but I was really not sure what to ask.

‘Yes, the god saved himself but didn’t save others. Nothing will be left. The daemon will swallow everything one day like my wife, my kids’, that was a hard answer from him which left me completely silent. I knew that around 30,000 people were washed away in this area during Tsunami , 2004 but I never expected I would meet up someone who had seen his beloved flooded away.

‘I’m sorry’, was my counter reply.

‘No sir, why you should be sorry? Whatever, where are you from sir?’, he tried to make me feel easy.

‘Chennai, but I’m actually from Kolkata’, I was really not sure what to tell him.

‘Chennai? Yes,know that place but never heard of Kolkata, is it bigger than Chennai?, he asked me.

‘May be, but they are all big cities’, I was trying to cut it short.

‘Thank you sir for visiting this place, nobody comes here except a few guys doing some research or some students from Karaikal to booze around. The devil will eat everyone’, Chiniyan left with varying his last statement over and over.

I was desperately looking for a place to sit. His words had me moved far away from this place. It was really too difficult for me to digest his ‘hard truths’. They believe in ‘the show must go on’ life and have faith in this small ‘Masilamani Nathar’ temple still. After spending another 30 minutes on that temple, I decided to wrap my day for the day. I was not willing to click any further. I saw one lady was selling some snacks but unfortunately there was no one to buy. Her blunt look definitely told a story of struggle and survival. I was really feeling scared to talk to her. The people here lost everything what they weaved for years but nobody stopped dreaming. The fishing boats still venture early in the morning. The sun rises everyday showering the first ray of light. The Dansborg Fort stands still witnessing ‘The singing waves’ for past 300 years. Tranquebar was Captain Gjedde’s dream and would remain standing tall for years. Chiniyan walked into the horizon, the snacks selling lady left home for the day but the fort stood still with a smile. Tharangambadi is really ‘The town of the singing waves’ but there’s no one to listen. All the listeners are sleeping deep into the ocean.

How To Go :

Buses are not that frequent from Mayilladuthurai which is 30 km away but Karaikal, which is just 15 km away is a better option. Taxis can be hired from both Karaikal and Mayliaduthurai. They run on ‘to and fro’ rates and rates are more than a fixed one with lesser chances to bargain.

Where to stay :

There are very less options to stay at Tharangambadi

1) ‘Bungalow At The Beach’ was an old Governor’s Bungalow which is about 4000/- @ night.

2) TTDC runs a small hotel @ 800/- for a double bed room.

3) ‘The Gate House’ is another Old Heritage Danish Bungalow which was converted into a hotel and would charge you around Rs 3000/- per night.

When to Visit :

Avoid Summer, else Tharangambadi can be visited for the rest of the months. November to February would be good.

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Comments

[Ben]

Me the Ben
Thank you Bro... As usual, classy writing. I missed the trip with you though :(

[Ranit Ganguly]

Yes. There you are as usual what I expect from you.

[tirunavukarasu]

good review
good and helpful, you could have done some food review too