San Thome Cathedral, Chennai, India

Whereas in the West, Catholic priests generally wear black robes, here in India – perhaps in an appropriate concession to the heat - they are more likely to wear white. Similarly, Christian churches here are overwhelmingly white(washed). And so, possibly the most important Christian church in all of India, the one Pope Pius XII himself elevated to the status of a minor basilica in 1956, is a great gothic monument - brilliantly white - overlooking the Bay of Bengal from the modest hill on which it was built over the remains of St. Thomas (Doubting Thomas), one of Jesus’ own twelve apostles.

Hinduism, the dominant religion in India, has always been exceptionally tolerant of other faiths. I have seen statues of the Virgin Mother lovingly attired in colorful saris; I have seen images of Jesus alongside the deities in Hindu temples. There has been some hardening of this ecumenical position of late in response to Islamist fanatics hell-bent on desecrating anything that is not Islam.

Legends of St. Thomas’ life in India abound. At one point, it is said that a huge log washed down the Adyar River and got stuck at its mouth, causing significant flooding upstream. The king called out his army to dislodge it. Try as they might, they couldn’t budge the log. The king had heard rumors of an ascetic living in a cave up in the hills of whom it was said that he could perform miracles. The king sent a messenger to fetch him. St. Thomas came; touched the log with the girdle the Virgin Mother had dropped at the time of her assumption, which St. Thomas always wore around his waist; spent some moments in silent prayer and then asked the king’s men to pull the log aside. They were able to do so without difficulty.

The belief in St. Thomas’ ability to perform miracles continues to this day. Christians from far and wide converge steadily on San Thome Cathedral to pray for the Saint’s personal intervention in regard to some problem they might be experiencing. In December of 2004, when the tsunami hit the east coast of India, it is now widely believed that St. Thomas’ Pole (fashioned from the legendary log) which stands between the sea and the church, was responsible for saving the lives of the people living in the Foreshore Estate, a neighborhood comprised primarily of fishing villages.

San Thome Basilica in Chennai is well worth a visit. There’s a delicious irony between Indian exotica and the (starkly geometric) cross. Besides the grand interior of the Basilica, the complex contains the Eucharist Chapel, the Tomb of St. Thomas (also with Chapel), a modest museum, boasting of St. Thomas relics such as the spearhead that killed the beloved saint.

There is a small gift shop where any number of items associated with St. Thomas can be purchased. By far the most popular item is a wallet size card embedded with the sand from the Saint’s tomb which is said to have miraculous healing powers. Other items include post- and laminated prayer cards in various Indian languages as well as a quarterly news magazine entitled, Voice of St. Thomas.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Guindy National Park, Chennai, India

I happened to be returning from somewhere and was sitting in the back of the car, listening to OASIS on my iPod. We were stuck in the usual Chennai traffic. To my right, there was a high wall that seemed to go on for miles. It’s not unusual to see walls in Chennai (or anywhere in India) as walls are regarded here as a prudent way of protecting one’s property.

Anyway, the contrast between India and the West, suddenly hit home - a kind of epiphany. Here I was, riding in air-conditioned comfort through the chaotic streets of Chennai, totally immersed in music that was so incongruous to the region. The contrast literally ripped my eyes open and I suddenly could see beyond the wall to my right.

The song, ‘Wonderwall’, came on practically on cue and the picture on the cover of George Harrison’s 1968 album by the same title flashed in front of me. There was a wall there as well. On one side of it was a scene depicting a gaggle of young Indian maidens washing their long, black, hair in a lotus pond. On the other, there was nothing but a stodgy English gentleman dressed in black, wearing a bowler hat and carrying an umbrella.

I looked and saw monkeys happily scampering about atop the wall. Beyond them was a profusion of exotic trees - including Sugar and Wood-apple, Banyan, Peepal, Neem, numerous species of palm and cacti – reaching for the heavens.

I sat mesmerized by it. The random growth behind that wall looked as dangerously seductive as anything I had ever seen. It would turn out to be the Guindy National Park, an extension of the grounds surrounding Raj Bhavan, the official residence of the governor of Tamil Nadu. It extends deep inside his estate, consisting of beautiful forests, scrub lands, lakes and streams.

I looked it up on the net on reaching home and found that Guindy Park is contiguous with the Arignar Anna Zoological Garden which is directly behind the Gandhi Mandapam, Kamaraj and Rajaji Memorials. Guindy Snake Park is a relatively new addition right next to the Guindy National Park. There one can see king cobras, pythons, vipers as well as monitors, crocodiles, turtles and other reptiles. Animals, in a separate area and designated as The Children’s Park, include black buck, sambhar, spotted deer, porcupine, hyena, jackal, pelicans, night heron, cormorant, cockatiel, mongoose, bonnet monkeys and the common languor. The various parks have separate, but very nominal entry fees. Entry to the memorials is free.

As such, the insistently beckoning forest behind the “Wonderwall” was accessible. I would make it a point to go the next morning and explore.

Explore I did. And, as is always the case in India, the people are the landscape. My heart was so easily nudged away from its original intent when confronted with busload after busload of school children and orphans – the blue team, the red team, the yellow team – all vying for my attention. They wave, smile broadly and shout, “Hi! How are you? Take our picture. We are learning English. What is your native place? We like you…”

They are thrilled, of course. And so am I. I feel like a rock star. What was it (again) that I came here to see? Never mind. I feel good. I switch my iPod back on.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

VGP Golden Beach Resort, Chennai, India

Most people from America go to India to see its antiquities. The U.S., after all, is only 200 some odd years old; this, compared to India’s millennia. Relative to what India has to offer devotees of antiquity, everything from Plymouth Rock to Disney World is kitsch.

But India too has kitsch. I’ve passed it often on the way down and back from Mahabalipuram, on the ocean side of the East Coast Road: VGP Golden Beach Resort. It consists of 33 oceanfront acres of family fun. There is an amusement park, hotel and restaurants. The prime attraction, of course, is the beach. It is there that most people gather after having paid Rs. 150 entrance fee.

I was reading about Six Flags Great Adventure in Jackson, NJ filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy – not surprising with the recession and all hitting New Jersey especially hard. Still, I read that attendance at Florida’s Disney World is also down. Yet, by all accounts, they’re still hanging in. And I ask myself, WHY? So, I came up with a theory that has probably not much to do with anything, but here goes anyway:

Maybe, for a theme park to be successful – to give it the edge, so to speak – it needs to be character based. Disney has all those delightful Disney characters; ditto France’s Parc Astérix. VGP’s Universal Kingdom Amusement Park has the gods and goddesses from the Mahabharata throughout the park. There’s Shiva dancing; Vishnu reclining; Buddha meditating and all those voluptuous multi-limbed attendant maidens poised gracefully in stone. There are sculpted elephants, horses, mermaids, birds, etc. – all to make visitors feel comfortable thus surrounded by their traditions. Six Flags has six flags and rides, which is quite enough for the 13-21 set, but often leaves those paying the bill strangely empty – especially in the wallet.

The pictures I took at VGP (named for its founder, V.G. Paneerdas) were mostly of the characters that seemed to make the entire extravaganza come to life. It was interesting to see the families enjoying themselves under the lush shade of greenery. It was a garden like none I had ever seen before, opening up to a broad view of The Bay of Bengal just beyond a gentle rise. The warning flags were up the day we went. There was a storm out at sea, kicking up the surf. Still, the people were gathered at the waterline, cooling their wrists and ankles.

It’ll likely never be a tourist spot for the Asia cruise crowd unless they happened to bring the young ones along, but it’s nevertheless an example of how India manages to copy the West in so many ways without giving in to the impulse to totally give in to Western pressures, thus managing to preserve an essence of its own. The amusement park was specifically built to give the people of Chennai a world class amusement park – a boyish fantasy, perhaps – but nevertheless a dream made real by a twelve-year old who left his rural village to arrive in the city of his dreams (Madras) with only the clothes on his back and the drive, vision and endurance required to succeed. Today, VGP Holdings is vast and worth in excess of Rs. 5 Billion and growing every year.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Museum Complex, Egmore, Chennai, India

Chennai’s Government Museum complex in the district of Egmore is comprised of six buildings and 46 galleries. Of these, we only had time to visit the Gallery of Bronzes and the adjacent gallery of coins. Reading the dates on the coins, one gets an idea of just how far back (BC) India’s recorded history actually goes. There was even a display of the light-weight alloy coins that were commonly used back when I was first here in the early 70’s. The Gallery of Bronzes contained mostly statuettes of the dancing Lord Shiva (the destroyer), his consort, Parvathi and their two sons, Ganesha and Subrahmanya; the meditating Buddha; and a handful of examples representing Jain statuary. It is said that without the Jain contribution of grammar to Tamil language, the Tamils would never have risen to prominence. I also noted a statue of the three faced Brahma, the creator and first god of the Hindu trinity. It is extremely rare to find any visual representation of Brahma anywhere in India. I did not take pictures of anything inside as this would have required an additional fee of Rs 200.

On previous occasions we had attended live performances of classical Indian music by top native talent at the Museum Theater. It is an excellent, air-conditioned venue with fine acoustics for music concerts of any type.

The entire complex appears a bit run down but this only adds to its ‘deserted cities’ charm. There is one building in particular that is an amazing example of indo-saracenic architecture. It is not being used because it has been declared unsafe. The book exposition building contains mostly books printed in Tamil and a modest ‘Learning English’ section. The gardens have some magnificent native trees – Mango, Neem, Peepal, Cannonball, etc.

There’s one thing that has always bothered me about visiting museums and historic sites in India. Foreigners are routinely charged ten times the normal entrance fee. Also, foreigners are prohibited entirely from entering certain temples. The cast system, though declared illegal by the government, is still being practiced in spirit by the majority of the population in that servants, drivers and watchmen are often treated rudely and denied basic human respect. All these are subtle examples of generally accepted practices that continue to marginalize specific groups and exclude others altogether. Indians tend to glibly gloss over it, pointing to what essentially amount to superficial federal efforts - in terms of government handouts and judicial rulings that favor the scheduled classes (another name for the ‘untouchables’); female children receiving free education up to 12th standard, whereas boys don’t; and blonde, blue-eyed foreigners being charged ten times the normal amount at government operated museums or (joint) India-UN administered heritage sites – to combat inequity.

Reverse-discrimination is still discrimination. It undermines the moral standing of a nation. It tends to desensitize the populace into being willing to accept much greater crimes - even genocide. After our museum visit, we had lunch at a new restaurant, called AZULIA at the GRT (International) Grand Hotel. The food was simply divine from the Greek salad, through the main course, to the espresso. The place was empty when we arrived. The chef, Joseph Chahine, a displaced Lebanese Christian, came out and introduced himself. He was friendly and broadly smiling as he proudly explained the intricacies of his culinary art to us. He told us how he personally had designed the (paper) menu, a virtual tome, giving much unnecessary information about the Mediterranean region. There were glossy pictures and maps. …only one problem: The map showed the names of every country along the Mediterranean coast, EXCEPT ISRAEL.* More people arrived as we were eating. Mr. Chahine claimed there were always good crowds at night.

*The menu has since this writing been changed. It is no longer offensive and the food is still great.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Amethyst, Chennai, India

Colonial heritage is not necessarily something despised by all people. Often, colonial heritage sites are lovingly maintained for posterity. I remember way back in the mid ‘70s landing in Singapore after a wearying boat ride from Jakarta in steerage. Even in those days it was a sprawling modern metropolis with glass and chrome office buildings and shopping malls. There was also an Indian and a Chinese sector, both abounding in distinct ethnic flavors but otherwise unremarkable. At some point, I ran across the Raffles Hotel, a delightful colonial structure, elaborately appointed with wicker furniture and plush carpets and pillows. Raffles owes its celebrity to one of its guests: Somerset Maugham, who once referred to this particular hotel as the symbol for "all the fables of the Exotic East".
The Raffles Hotel is just one of hundreds such places that proudly celebrate colonial heritage throughout the Far East. These are points where travelers and ex-pats converge to share their tales of adventure, pick up a souvenir or two and eat a familiar meal.

In India, there’s Goa with its blindingly bright, whitewashed Portuguese style churches and its ‘swimming attire optional’ beaches; there’s Puducherry (see my previous post) on the opposite coast where an entire neighborhood is carefully being preserved to retain its distinct French demeanor.

Chennai has Amethyst, a beautiful colonial bungalow, the most famous of the many heritage buildings here that have been converted into art galleries coffee shops, boutiques and restaurants.

Immediately, after having entered through its tall gates, it feels like the temperature drops about twenty degrees. This is due to the profusion of well-tended tropical greens throughout the premises. The atmosphere is relaxed. People come with their laptops or to talk business over light stimulants like tea or coffee. Hookahs are brought on request. In addition, pastries as well as western-style meals are available - at inflated prices, I might add. But you don’t begrudge it - or the leisurely service - because the place is so exquisitely lovely – such a radical departure from the hectic pace outside.

I had a hamburger which tasted somewhat different from what I expected. It might have been the ketchup. I can’t say it was bad – just different. The coffee afterwards was excellent.

After our meal, we visited the boutique. The stuff there was first class (Indian) designer ware and fabulously expensive. There were clothes and leather accessories, jewelry, original art and dinnerware. Upstairs they had antique furniture for sale.

Amethyst is a great place to unwind from the apparent chaos of Asia. You can order a coffee and nurse it all day while reading a book about the Mogul architecture. Nobody will ask you to leave. If you remain there long enough, Amethyst’s ginger cat might even consent to make an appearance. She’ll be staring at you from underneath one of the unoccupied tables. You can find Amethyst on Facebook.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

(Adyar) Theosophical Society, Chennai, India

During a discussion recently about landscapes, someone remarked that “the landscape of India is her people”. This is true. No matter where one happens to point one’s camera, one finds someone doing something. Chennai is no exception. The city is literally bursting at the seams. Everywhere, builders are hard at work adding floors to existent buildings or tearing down single family dwellings to make room for apartment complexes that reach to the clouds. Besides its beaches (only second in total ocean frontage to Rio de Janeiro), the city has only one botanical lung. It is the 28 acres along the south shore of the Adyar River, owned by the Theosophical Society. It is said to contain the largest Banyan Tree in the world (one full acre) along with other botanical rarities from around the globe.

Unlike Chennai proper where every house and building has a wall surrounding it - where living and working space is measured in inches - here at the Society the only wall is the one surrounding the property. Inside, there are houses, administrative offices, libraries, places of worship and gardens set randomly throughout its sprawling, overwhelmingly pristine woodsy areas. It brings to mind a time when India’s population was considerably less than it is today, when even her great and fabled cities could boast of having green, open spaces and life moved at a much less desperate pace.

There is, of course, a foreign connection to the Theosophical Society - charitable NGO’s in fifty-eight countries to be exact. The grounds are open just a few hours in the morning and then again in mid-afternoon. There is no entrance fee. The organization and the maintenance of its facilities survive on support from rich benefactors abroad. Moreover, much of the routine work that is required is done by volunteers.

According to its website http://www.ts-adyar.org/ the Theosophical Society, which was founded in 1875, “is a worldwide body whose primary object is Universal Brotherhood based on the realization that life, and all its diverse forms, human and non-human, is indivisibly One. The Society imposes no (singular) belief system on its members, who are united (only) by a common search for Truth and desire to learn the meaning and purpose of (human) existence by engaging in study, reflection, purity of life and loving service.” Needless to say, this encompasses the wishes of most of us.

The Theosophical Society enjoys a rich and interesting history involving the occult and various influential and eccentric personalities, including the founders, H.P. Blavatsky and Col. H.S. Olcott. Details are readily available in libraries and on the net. I cannot escape the fact that all these people would first and foremost have had to have been independently wealthy as to be in a position to even think of dabbling in other-worldly matters.

The extent of our own involvement is likely to mirror your own should you ever decide to come here: a leisurely stroll through the gardens with camera poised. We noted with great relief that the notorious Chennai hammer-and-anvil sun did not intrude as lethally as it does everywhere else. There were to be other distractions however.

As soon as we had signed the register at the gate and taken a few steps, there was a great rustling behind the hedgerow that lined the path. It turned out to be a mountain of a boar, happily crashing through the underbrush. It would run along with us, first to the right of us, then to the left; crossing the path within easy shouting distance both in front and behind us. At every turn, it seemed to be getting closer. It snorted as it ran. I could clearly see its yellow eyes; hooked teeth protruded from both sides of its mouth. At one point, it stopped just a few yards ahead of us, stamping its hooves. We stopped as well. We'd become concerned. Perhaps it was getting ready to charge.

It turned out to be an 'enlightened' swine, obviously healthy and well fed; black as night. It meant us no harm. We would see it frolicking about throughout our visit.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Arupadai Veedu Temple, Chennai, India

India is a deeply spiritual nation. This is the only thing that can be said definitively about a country so diverse. Unlike America, India can hardly be seen as a melting pot. India’s populace remains as fractured – linguistically, ethnically, politically – as any disparate group. Nowhere is this more evident than in the people’s religious practices. Hinduism provides a complex of lenses to focus virtually every nuance of concern its devotees could possibly have.

The first–tier gods consists of Brahma, the creator; Vishnu, the preserver; and Shiva, the destroyer. Each has his own distinct mythology and personality. In addition, there are also a whole slew of second-tier gods, consisting of the consorts and offspring of the first-tier gods. Each one caters to a specific individual human yearning.

I recently visited a Murugan Temple just down the beach from us in Besant Nagar. It is within sight of the Ashtalakshmi Temple about which I have written previously. Whereas Ashtalakshmi is a Vishnu Temple, Arupadai Veedu slips into the Shaivite slot by virtue of Lord Murugan’s parentage. Murugan, a.k.a. Subrahmanya, is the elder brother of Ganesha, the hugely popular elephant(-headed) god. Legend has it that Shiva proposed a contest for his sons. The test was to see which one could circumnavigate the universe in the least amount of time. Subrahmanya promptly jumped on his peacock vehicle and began the race. Ganesha simply walked around his parents, Shiva and Parvati. Shiva then declared Ganesha the winner. When Subrahmanya returned and found he had lost the contest, he felt profoundly hurt. He changed his name to Murugan and vowed to become an ascetic.

In India there are specific temples built to Subrahmanya as well as to Murugan. Both are known for their prowess in war; both are pictured carrying the vel (weapon), but each has a separate and distinct personality. Subrahmanya is the domesticated (married) aspect of the godhead, whereas Murugan is the celibate ascetic, grizzled with shaved skull.

The Arupadai Veedu Temple complex is built only recently in granite, making it somewhat of a rarity in this region. Temples of this type are more likely found in the neighboring state of Karnataka. The architecture is spare and does not in the least bit resemble the intense, lavish, color-splashed temples so unique to this region. Its close proximity to the sea, definitely adds to its charm.

The morning I visited, I pretty much had the place to myself. A handful of priests were getting everything ready in anticipation of the tour busses arriving around 10 AM, bringing pilgrims who would expect to receive their blessing. The woman at the gate was busily threading garlands ahead of the expected influx.

I walked to the beach and felt the wet breeze pressing against my face like a cloth. I suddenly felt hungry and turned back. When I reached the car, I asked my driver to take me over to Murugan Idli, a popular Chennai restaurant chain frequented also by western tourists. I would imagine that there is a write-up on it in The Lonely Planet (guide book).

Murugan Idli? And I suddenly recognized the legitimacy of what is usually understood about Lord Murugan in these parts: that he, perhaps more than any other Hindu deity, is most closely and inexorably linked with the intrinsic identity of the Tamil people (the oldest, continuous civilization on earth.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Triplicane, Chennai, India

Triplicane is one of the oldest commercial districts in the South Indian city of Chennai. In fact, the costal communities that include Triplicane, along with Thiruvotriyur, Mylapore and Thiruvanmiyur, predate modern Chennai by at least two millennia. Most popular guide books are more likely to mention Mylapore with its outrageously colorful Shiva (Kapaleeswarar) Temple at its heart.

In Chennai, one learns of things by word of mouth. Very little literature that goes into detail about the city’s various neighborhoods and attractions is available. It was through someone my wife works with that we were alerted to the singular charms of Triplicane and the famous Parthasarathy (Arjuna's Charioteer) Swamy Temple the town was originally built around.

Unlike Kapaleeswarar in Mylapore, the Sri Parthasarathy Swamy Temple in Triplicane is dedicated to the (Lord) Vishnu part of the Hindu trinity with an entirely different entourage of deities. The temple itself stands imposing; bright and gleaming under the hot Chennai sun. Unlike Kapaleeswarar, the figures adorning the central tower (gopuram) are not painted as to approximate English garden gnomes.

It is abundantly clear that Vaishnavites (Vishnu worshippers) settled here. Practically every business or dwelling lining the madas (streets) surrounding the temple bears either the name of some avatar of Vishnu or a representation of his three-pronged symbol.

We weren’t so much drawn to Triplicane by the temple however. Next to the Kapaleeswarar Temple in Mylapore, most any temple in the city is visually strictly second rate. What did impress us were the facades along the madas surrounding the Parthasarathy Temple. It’s the Indian version of what any European tour operator would refer to as quaint; referring to crusty old villages with cobblestone streets.

In Asia, the word ‘quaint’ almost never fits properly. Asians, in general, are much too humorless for that. Everything, even the seemingly most insignificant gesture is tightly structured and shaped by ageless tradition. Even ‘humor’ is choreographed as is evident every morning when we take our walk on the beach before breakfast. Invariably, we run across a group of about a dozen grown men sitting in a circle in the sand, facing each other. At predetermined intervals they all laugh heartily for roughly thirty seconds. I was puzzled by this. Later I was told that these men comprise the Thiruvanmiyur chapter of the ‘Laughing Club of Greater Chennai’.

I would be remiss not to point out that Triplicane is also known as Batchelor’s Paradise, offering relatively cheap food and lodging for students studying in the city. As such it has served as home to a number of people who have earned international standing in various fields from mathematics to literature. Hindu School in Triplicane even produced one of India’s Nobel Prize winners (Sir C. V. Raman, physics).

Unlike Mylapore, where Brahminic culture is deeply entrenched to the exclusion of any other influence, Triplicane can also boast of a significant Moslem population. The district is home to two major mosques.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Mylapore, Chennai, India

Chennai, formerly known as Madras, is one of India’s four first-tier cities and the only one in the southern half of the country. It, in turn, is made up of many smaller towns, all built together - like New Jersey. One of the oldest parts of the city, the commercial and cultural core, is Mylapore.

Mylapore is built around the Kapaleeswarar (Shiva) Temple, the largest Hindu temple in the city. The first time I became aware of it was back in the late 60’s when I saw “Phantom India”, the late Louis Malle’s groundbreaking seven-part documentary about the subcontinent. Almost an entire hour was given to showing a heaving mass of wildly celebrating people, all surging around a huge, hand drawn, wooden chariot used to carry the primary idol of the temple around the town’s streets on auspicious days.

On some level, I must have been impressed by what I was seeing even back then (I had just entered college) because, obviously, I ended up here. The temple itself is a spectacular example of Dravidian architecture. Tamil Nadu (the dominant South Indian state of which Chennai is the capital) is the only place in India where the carved figures adorning the temple towers (gopuram) are painted in brilliant colors.

Kapaleeswarar Temple is one of the most spectacular Chennai sites. It is here that cruise ship tourists are taken first after docking in Chennai’s harbor, one of the stops on their Asia or ‘round-the-world’ cruises.

Kapaleeswarar Temple is the center of Braminic Hindu culture in Chennai. As such it is the site of numerous dance and music festivals throughout the year. These are usually casual affairs where people stroll in and out at their pleasure. Mylapore also hosts professional classical music events involving top artists, many of them living in the city itself, at more formal venues apart from the temple.


The narrow streets (madas) around the Temple are crowded with small shops and tea stalls. These sell anything from household goods to offerings to the deities. Along the southern parameter of the compound are vegetable and fruit stalls. To the west, just behind the Kapaleeswarar Temple compound, there is a huge water tank that is simply teeming with ravenous fish. Packets of fish food (puffed rice) can be bought in vendor stalls in the vicinity of the tank. The fish heave in a single black mass at the thrown food. It is not dissimilar to the surge of humanity that greets their idol, Shiva, on the chariot on the days when he is allowed to leave the temple grounds.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com