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My maternal grandpa was a fine, upstanding individual, from what little I remember of him and from what I’ve been told. He was kind, liberal, forward thinking, a motorsport buff (he was an active member of the motor racing scene in Madras, back in the day) and an excellent brewer of beer (this alone qualifies him for fervent admiration). He had several other interests too, one of which was a little line on the side dealing in cars. Apparently, and I have this on the good authority of my uncle, when a Chettiar gentleman wanted to purchase a car (or a piece of jewellery), he would insist that the concerned item be sent to his residence, there to be kept for a whole day. If, during this period, anything untoward happened – if the lady of the house tripped on her sari and was found prostrated in a corner, for example – the blame would be laid squarely at the feet of the vehicle/bauble and it would be removed from the premises with extreme prejudice. If, on the other hand, peace and joy prevailed, a deal would almost certainly be struck.
I’m not quite sure what this tells you about the Chettiar community, to be honest, except perhaps that they were a mite superstitious and that they had to have had some serious clout in order for people to leave unpaid-for cars and jewellery at their houses. Actually, on second thought, this isn’t surprising – the Chettiars were (and still are) a highly respected community, both in business and social circles. They began as traders (of timber, jewellery, onions, rubber and suchlike) and financiers (they founded the Indian Overseas Bank) and the immense wealth that they accumulated enabled them to build some of the most astonishing houses you’re ever likely to see. The Chettiar honour roll includes such heavyweights as R.M Alagappa Chettiar, M.A Chidambaram Chettiar (after whom the cricket stadium in Chennai is named), A.M.M Murugappa Chettiar, A.V Meyyappa Chettiar (of the famous AVM studios in Chennai) and our current finance minister, P. Chidambaram (although I’d like the last-named a whole bunch better if he reduced taxes across the board). They were also renowned for their philanthropy, by the way, lest you get the impression that all they did was pile up the moolah and build thundering great houses.
So there I was, zipping along at a decent clip in a diesel Logan (which, I must tell you, performed superbly throughout my trip), wondering what Karaikudi – one of the many towns that the Nattukottai (or ‘people with big houses in the countryside’) Chettiars built – would have in store for me. I had in fact passed through the town twice previously, on my way to other destinations, and my hazy memory permitted only a few sketchy details to seep through – a typically bustling small town, with a large temple tank and flashes of ornate old houses every now and again. I had told myself that one day I would stop and explore the area properly, and when the opportunity presented itself I was quick to take it. I was specifically headed for The Bangala, an old Chettiar family club house that is now a boutique hotel, and which has developed a reputation for impeccable service and authentic Chettinad cuisine. It is a reputation entirely deserved on both counts, but more about those a little later (see Travel Log)
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