Meet the makers of Chennai’s iconic foods
The Hindu
Chennai's iconic foods include Burmese dishes at Vyasarpadi, beach sundal, vada curry, and bajjis from Mylapore
A young lad with a steel container balanced on his shoulder, weaving his way through a crowded Marina beach: this image has long been synonymous with Chennai. Marina is lined with food trucks and stalls selling everything from ‘Chinese’ to spring potato. But years ago, it was beach sundal that people munched on as they sat by the waves with their feet outstretched.
Trudging through the sand on a Friday evening, we meet 34-year-old M Kumar from Paramakudi, who has brought two kilograms of sundal to sell. He bends a knee, placing the steel container on it and packs some ‘thenga, manga, pattani sundal’ in a paper cone. The white peas sundal, cooked to perfection and garnished with scraped coconut and thin slivers of raw mango, tastes just like it did a decade ago.
“The sundal sellers are all from Ramnad district near Madurai,” says M Kumar of JK Sea Shells, a souvenir store that has been around since the 1990s behind the Triumph of Labour statue. “They would arrive here in small teams and stay at Nochi Kuppam for six months a year,” he explains adding that they are small farmers looking to earn a living when rains and other factors such as labour shortage failed them back home.
“They would make the sundal at home and sell it at the beach from 4pm to 8pm,” he adds. “These days though, I see only a handful of them; perhaps people prefer fast food to their sundal.” Kumar remembers how these lads would all walk back home together, exhausted, but happy to have made a little something to be sent back home.
Twenty-five years ago, a V Krishnamoorthy, who had just retired from his job as a cook at the madapalli (temple kitchen) at Kapaleeswarar temple, opened the hall window of his Mylapore home. It overlooked the narrow Ponnambala Vadyar Street, and taking a seat by it, Krishnamoorthy thought of a business idea. The family was in need of financial support, and Krishnamoorthy, being a skilled cook, decided to put to use his expertise. K Sargunanathan, whose sister married Krishnamoorthy’s son, recalls how Krishnamoorthy was known for his delicious tamarind rice, sakkara pongal and sundal.
Today, the shop is open from 7.40am to 10.45am, and sells pongal, poori, idli and vada. In the evenings, from 4.45pm onwards, there is a range of bajjis on offer, including bondas, idli and dosa. “Krishnamoorthy’s son Sivaramakrishnan took over after him and after his death during the pandemic, my brother-in-law V Chandrashekar and his sons run the business,” explains Sargunanathan. Jannal kadai is closed on Sundays, and Sargunanathan says that customers knock on the blue window even on their day off, asking if there are bajjis to eat.
The 2004 tsunami changed the course of lives of the people of Odai Kuppam at Besant Nagar. “Fisherfolk families who lost everything to the disaster, started looking for other means to earn a living,” says A Dinesh Kumar of Pooja Fish Fry, a stall selling fried fish at the beach. “Before the tsunami, there were only a handful of stalls; now there are over 15 of them,” says the 28-year-old, in between handing plastic plates of crisp fried fish with a side of sliced onions to customers.
“Writing, in general, is a very solitary process,” says Yauvanika Chopra, Associate Director at The New India Foundation (NIF), which, earlier this year, announced the 12th edition of its NIF Book Fellowships for research and scholarship about Indian history after Independence. While authors, in general, are built for it, it can still get very lonely, says Chopra, pointing out that the fellowship’s community support is as valuable as the monetary benefits it offers. “There is a solid community of NIF fellows, trustees, language experts, jury members, all of whom are incredibly competent,” she says. “They really help make authors feel supported from manuscript to publication, so you never feel like you’re struggling through isolation.”
Several principals of government and private schools in Delhi on Tuesday said the Directorate of Education (DoE) circular from a day earlier, directing schools to conduct classes in ‘hybrid’ mode, had caused confusion regarding day-to-day operations as they did not know how many students would return to school from Wednesday and how would teachers instruct in two modes — online and in person — at once. The DoE circular on Monday had also stated that the option to “exercise online mode of education, wherever available, shall vest with the students and their guardians”. Several schoolteachers also expressed confusion regarding the DoE order. A government schoolteacher said he was unsure of how to cope with the resumption of physical classes, given that the order directing government offices to ensure that 50% of the employees work from home is still in place. On Monday, the Commission for Air Quality Management in the National Capital Region and Adjoining Areas (CAQM) had, on the orders of the Supreme Court, directed schools in Delhi-NCR to shift classes to the hybrid mode, following which the DoE had issued the circular. The court had urged the Centre’s pollution watchdog to consider restarting physical classes due to many students missing out on the mid-day meals and lacking the necessary means to attend classes online. The CAQM had, on November 20, asked schools in Delhi-NCR to shift to the online mode of teaching.