Journeys and Jottings
Issue 56 - Haunted historic colonies from Chennai and some nostalgic festive cheer and Deepavali wishes.
I was born in a haunted colony in Madras, now called Chennai - the deserted stretches of De Monte Colony, located near the ancient neighbourhood of Mylapore. This colony with its Portuguese influence is all of two streets with old crumbling bungalows surrounded by dense vegetation. I often wondered why it wore such a haunted look. It almost seemed like we were in an unkempt forest The trees cast long shadows, lending a dark and desolate feel to the area. It is located right in the heart of the city in one of the most plush neighbourhoods and yet no one has lived here for more than a decade. There is something eerie about it. If you are into haunted trails, you must visit De Monte Colony at midnight.
When I was living in Chennai, this colony was just a street away. My local auto rickshaw guy who used to park near my flat would refuse to drive down that stretch late at night or early morning. He claimed he had seen ghosts. But the stories are just dismissed as myths even though they were spooky enough to inspire a Tamil movie.
Pic Courtesy - The Culture Trip
Let me tell you the story behind the settlement. 200 years ago, this entire neighbourhood was owned by one man. He was a Portuguese businessman named John De Monte who was actually a handkerchief merchant. Sadly locals believe that he brought ill luck to the area. His wife was apparently mentally unstable and his son died early. Even after 200 years, the tragic tale seems to echo from every crumbling ruin. De Monte had donated the land to the church and he had willed that it could never be sold. There was a time when it was leased to a corporation but deserted for over a decade with legal issues plaguing it. If you are interested in reading more about John De Monte, do read this article on Culture Trip or you should watch the movie. More eerie stories of ghosts and haunted destinations in this issue here
Hello and Welcome to this edition of Journeys and Jottings. To be honest, this newsletter should have been sent a week ago for Halloween but the real horror story was the deadlines that haunted me. So here I am trying to blend a bit of Halloween and Deepavali, which is around the corner.
Deepavali memories from childhood - celebrations in a joint family.
The festive vibe is in the air. I am busy with some Deepavali cleaning, pulling out the old lamps, (hoping one of them would be an Aladdin‘s Lamp with a genie), a little bit of shopping, parties, friends, and lots of sweets and savouries. As a child, growing up in a joint family with grandparents and celebrating Deepavali with scores of aunts and uncles and cousins was a very different experience - more heartfelt, real, and simple.
As a rule, I do not travel during festivals and long weekends for many reasons . One, the places are always crowded and they are very expensive. And two, I like to be home with family and partake in festivities.
I grew up in Madras aka Chennai, in a big house with a big family. Yeah, we were the typical large Indian joint family, with grandparents, three pairs of uncles and aunts, and loads of kids. Even today, I am in touch with all of my cousins.
Our anticipation for Deepavali used to begin weeks before the festival. The North East Monsoon sets in Tamil Nadu around the end of October and usually, it pours during Deepavali. As kids, we used to pray that it did not rain and sometimes the weather gods did answer our prayers. ( It’s raining infact as I write this and the monsoons are already here. )
Then came the whole ritual of buying new clothes. Even today, I insist I buy at least one new dress for Deepavali. On the eve of Deepavali, all of us used to leave our new clothes in the puja room and we would sleep very early.
My eldest cousin used to be our alarm clock. One loud cracker was usually the wake-up call and it usually bursts at 5 am.
The next lot to wake us was a group of street performers, musicians, and entertainers. The musicians arrived first, playing nadaswaram, a double reed wind instrument, and mridangam, a percussion instrument (pee pee pee dum dum dum as I used to say as a kid.) We don’t see these musicians often today but then they would visit neighbourhoods and perform as people would pay them a small amount and offer some sweets as well.
Following them were these men in this order – In Tamil, we used to call them the gudu gudu pandi, the pambaati, and the dum dum maadu among others. The former was the most colourful of the street entertainers. Draped in colourful bedsheets he was a kind of a soothsayer who used to enter saying “ Good times are here.” The kids used to be scared of him but our parents would also offer him some money and sweets as the snake charmer would follow suit. He would play his pungi or been - the wind instrument, and would ask us if we needed any help in capturing any snakes. We would say no and then he would take his gifts while the third visitor, the man with his colourfully decorated cow, “the dum dum maadu” would come in. Like the gudu gudu paandi, he would pretend to predict some good times and the cow would nod in agreement to all the predictions and he would finally leave with his share of the goodies.
And then we made a beeline to the puja room where my late grandmother used to sit with a vessel filled with oil, freshly heated with spices. She smeared it on all our foreheads as we paid our respects and took the new dress. And then came the “Ganga snanam” or the traditional symbolic and ritualistic bath, where it is believed that we are “purified by Ganga Mata. “
In a few minutes, all the kids were downstairs, out in the verandah with a few crackers, mostly those like flower pots or the Bhoomi chakras and we would avoid the over-the-top loud crackers. We burst crackers for about half an hour and then rushed to eat all the sweets and mixture (my favourite among all the “bakshanam” as we called the savouries is the “mullu murrukku.”
The rockets would come out in the night and so would the diyas, although the traditional lamps were reserved more for the Karthikai Deepam festival which follows Deepavali in about a month’s time.
The real essence of the festival however was the presence of three to four generations of families sitting together, laughing, eating, pulling each other’s legs, and celebrating together. But as I am sitting here today, writing this, I wonder if we have forgotten the essence of celebrating a festival – just being together with family! I do miss my grandmom and mom and I wish they are here today as I celebrate another Deepavali.
Here is wishing everyone, whether you are up in the hills deep in the forests, or at home, a bright and beautiful Deepavali.
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Loved this, Lakshmi. While I've heard of De Monte colony, I hadn't really come across the actual story around its haunted status. I'll make sure to read up more on this. Also, your writing took me back to my childhood in the city , to its days of unshorn glory when we had such green, overgrown spaces scattered across the city. We had one such ground near my home in Ambattur. We kids would make up spooky tales about the place. Found myself reliving those moments of innocent wonder and imagination as I read this!
Very pleasant reminiscences of those days. There was a lot to do during festivals in those days, whereas now it is all about television programs and movies releasing on Deepavali. I think ever since Deepavali became Diwali in Tamil Nadu; the celebrations have gone.
I just penned a brief reminiscence because this nostalgia struck me as well: https://open.substack.com/pub/weekendmusings/p/my-deepavali-crackers?r=rj3jl&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web