Showing posts with label Taragambadi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Taragambadi. Show all posts
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Tranquebar beach - Skywatch Friday
Tranquebar or Tarangambadi as its called today was once a Danish colony , nestled in the Coromandel coast of India. Walking around the old fort, I could see the view of the beautiful beach from the windows. The fishermen had just finished their early morning catch and their boats bordered the shore..
To see more skies around the world click here
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Driving down the Coromandel Coast - Part 3
We are back at the coastline as I bring you the last leg of my journey down the Coromandel Coast . A quick recap here for those who have just joined me on the trail.We left Chennai and drove down to Sadras in Part 1 and then we continued towards Pondicherry where we crossed Alamparai and the salt fields at Marrakkanam in Part 2. I now bring you guys back to the coastline where we will visit more erstwhile colonies of the colonial era.

The traffic shakes us out of our reverie as we continue towards Cuddalore, an ancient port which wears the mask of an industrial town. We leave the bustling town and delve into the past. The old town presents itself, boasting of a Roman connection. But in Cuddalore, was the very foundation of the East India Company .The seas have witnessed battles fought between the arch rivals here .We skim through layers of history and learn that Fort St David, an erstwhile fort on the banks of the river Gadilam was the headquarters of the British before Fort St George in Chennai took over. A passer by tells us that this fort was under the control of the Marathas and it was later on bought over by the British . The story goes that the purchase was decided based on a shot from a gun. The area which came under the range of the canon included the entire town and Cuddalore became a British settlement.

We move on as canons echo in our ears as we take another detour to enter a crowded town.“ This is where the Parangis stayed , so its called Parangipettai,” says a school teacher with whom we have a cup of tea at a local stall.” In Tamil, Europeans are called Parangis, but this small port is a trade centre for the Arabs and the Yemenis. Parangipettai or Porto Novo as it was called by the Portuguese was also colonized by the Dutch and English . I couldn’t find any ruins here, but I heard that the Nawab of Arcot minted the Porto Novo Pagoda, the gold coins from here. I leave another noisy town and move on towards Tranquebar or Tharangambadi.

The breeze lifts our spirits. We know we are getting there. The roads get narrower as we finally get to hear the music from the sea shore. Tharangambadi means just that – the town of the singing waves. And as we walk towards the waters, the lilting tune haunts us. The waves gently stroke the rocks which seem to be a remnant of an old wall. The beach is littered with colourful boats .The nets are scattered as the kids run around. A big Indian family jump on to a boat and take pictures , while a few enjoy a swim. Couples stroll around as I watch the skies come alive with the evening colours .

Tharangambadi or Tranquebar (Trankebar) as this Danish settlement was called found its way in the history map in the 17th century when the Danish East India company built the Fort Dansborg . Today the fort , with a Scandinavian feel about it opens out into the sea and is now a museum that tells a story of a busy port which has now become a wind blown village.

We take a heritage walk with Asai, an architect from INTACH who are doing their bit to preserve the unique architecture here which is a blend of European and Indian styles. When we enter the portals through the “ “Landporten” or the town gate, we walk into a past that has a washed out charm. The gateway sports the Danish Royal seal and leads us through a row of colonial bungalows and ancient churches.

Asai takes us on a historic trail. He says that in 1620, a Danish fleet landed here and the captain identified it as a strategic trading centre. The village was then ruled by the Nayaks from Thanjavur . A deal was struck between the king, Vijaya raghunatha and the Danish admiral Ove Gjedde. A small strip of an insignificant fishing hamlet was leased from the king for an annual rent of Rs 3111 and Trankebar was created with the Dansborg Fort built right in the centre of it. While the Danes traded in spices and silks it was finally sold to the British for Rs 12.5 lakhs in 1845 .

The quaint streetscapes lend an old world charm. We walk down the small bylanes called King street, Queen Street, Goldsmith Street where buildings have been restored. “To begin with the bungalows of the British Collector and the Danish Governor ,” says Asai pointing to the Bungalow on the Beach which is now a sprawling mansion overlooking the beach. “The latter is next on our agenda,” he adds.
The tsunami he says swallowed close to four streets in this lost forgotten town and he takes us to see the ravaged Masilamani Nathar temple, the oldest monument that has survived in Tranquebar, An inscription says that this partially eroded temple was built on a land granted by King Maravarman Kulasekara Pandian in 1306. The village was then referred to as Kulashekarapattinam or Thayangambadi.

We walk with Asai to the 18th century Zion Church, the oldest protestant church of India . The New Jerusalem Church, he says was built a bit later by german missionaries Bartholomäus Ziegenbalg and Heinrich Pluetschau who translated the Bible into tamil . The trail ends near the beach as we see many tattered monuments waiting to be restored.

It is dusk and the melody from the waves reach a crescendo. We sit on the rocks and watch the sun set sipping a hot ginger tea when I hear a haunting tune from the past. The little snippets of history from these forgotten ports play in my mind. The passage of time may have eroded their identity and they may have slowly faded away from the political maps , but the glory of these long lost towns would probably never fade away . Its hidden , waiting to be discovered…

Thanks for joining me in this journey. It would be wonderful of you travelled with us as well.Travelwise, managed by Arun and I will soon be doing a trail in Tamil Nadu. Windows and Aisles, the inflight magazine of Paramount Airlines published this story in their December issue.
The traffic shakes us out of our reverie as we continue towards Cuddalore, an ancient port which wears the mask of an industrial town. We leave the bustling town and delve into the past. The old town presents itself, boasting of a Roman connection. But in Cuddalore, was the very foundation of the East India Company .The seas have witnessed battles fought between the arch rivals here .We skim through layers of history and learn that Fort St David, an erstwhile fort on the banks of the river Gadilam was the headquarters of the British before Fort St George in Chennai took over. A passer by tells us that this fort was under the control of the Marathas and it was later on bought over by the British . The story goes that the purchase was decided based on a shot from a gun. The area which came under the range of the canon included the entire town and Cuddalore became a British settlement.
We move on as canons echo in our ears as we take another detour to enter a crowded town.“ This is where the Parangis stayed , so its called Parangipettai,” says a school teacher with whom we have a cup of tea at a local stall.” In Tamil, Europeans are called Parangis, but this small port is a trade centre for the Arabs and the Yemenis. Parangipettai or Porto Novo as it was called by the Portuguese was also colonized by the Dutch and English . I couldn’t find any ruins here, but I heard that the Nawab of Arcot minted the Porto Novo Pagoda, the gold coins from here. I leave another noisy town and move on towards Tranquebar or Tharangambadi.
The breeze lifts our spirits. We know we are getting there. The roads get narrower as we finally get to hear the music from the sea shore. Tharangambadi means just that – the town of the singing waves. And as we walk towards the waters, the lilting tune haunts us. The waves gently stroke the rocks which seem to be a remnant of an old wall. The beach is littered with colourful boats .The nets are scattered as the kids run around. A big Indian family jump on to a boat and take pictures , while a few enjoy a swim. Couples stroll around as I watch the skies come alive with the evening colours .
Tharangambadi or Tranquebar (Trankebar) as this Danish settlement was called found its way in the history map in the 17th century when the Danish East India company built the Fort Dansborg . Today the fort , with a Scandinavian feel about it opens out into the sea and is now a museum that tells a story of a busy port which has now become a wind blown village.
We take a heritage walk with Asai, an architect from INTACH who are doing their bit to preserve the unique architecture here which is a blend of European and Indian styles. When we enter the portals through the “ “Landporten” or the town gate, we walk into a past that has a washed out charm. The gateway sports the Danish Royal seal and leads us through a row of colonial bungalows and ancient churches.
Asai takes us on a historic trail. He says that in 1620, a Danish fleet landed here and the captain identified it as a strategic trading centre. The village was then ruled by the Nayaks from Thanjavur . A deal was struck between the king, Vijaya raghunatha and the Danish admiral Ove Gjedde. A small strip of an insignificant fishing hamlet was leased from the king for an annual rent of Rs 3111 and Trankebar was created with the Dansborg Fort built right in the centre of it. While the Danes traded in spices and silks it was finally sold to the British for Rs 12.5 lakhs in 1845 .
The quaint streetscapes lend an old world charm. We walk down the small bylanes called King street, Queen Street, Goldsmith Street where buildings have been restored. “To begin with the bungalows of the British Collector and the Danish Governor ,” says Asai pointing to the Bungalow on the Beach which is now a sprawling mansion overlooking the beach. “The latter is next on our agenda,” he adds.
The tsunami he says swallowed close to four streets in this lost forgotten town and he takes us to see the ravaged Masilamani Nathar temple, the oldest monument that has survived in Tranquebar, An inscription says that this partially eroded temple was built on a land granted by King Maravarman Kulasekara Pandian in 1306. The village was then referred to as Kulashekarapattinam or Thayangambadi.
We walk with Asai to the 18th century Zion Church, the oldest protestant church of India . The New Jerusalem Church, he says was built a bit later by german missionaries Bartholomäus Ziegenbalg and Heinrich Pluetschau who translated the Bible into tamil . The trail ends near the beach as we see many tattered monuments waiting to be restored.
It is dusk and the melody from the waves reach a crescendo. We sit on the rocks and watch the sun set sipping a hot ginger tea when I hear a haunting tune from the past. The little snippets of history from these forgotten ports play in my mind. The passage of time may have eroded their identity and they may have slowly faded away from the political maps , but the glory of these long lost towns would probably never fade away . Its hidden , waiting to be discovered…
Thanks for joining me in this journey. It would be wonderful of you travelled with us as well.Travelwise, managed by Arun and I will soon be doing a trail in Tamil Nadu. Windows and Aisles, the inflight magazine of Paramount Airlines published this story in their December issue.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Musings by the sea shore
The mountains beckon some, the forests lure you, there is a charm in an old heritage monument and a certain peace in a remote town . I often get lost in new worlds, some that let me escape the mundane realities of life.
But when my mind is restless, I often seek the waves. The ebb and flow of the waters reassure me, the fury of the waves calm me down, the foam bathes my mind and the endless space of sand, water and sky give me an immense faith in life. I realize I am a microcosm in this entire universe and nothing can change the dynamics of life. The rhythm must go on..some waves are rough, some gentle , some gather around your feet,letting your toes feel the illusion of being embedded in the sand, but they let go eventually.
However the colours change as I watch the entire skyscape enact a drama in front of me . Colours of life , I call them - rose, crimson,gold, blue, grey fill the sky as it becomes an open palette.The fluffy white clouds flit in and out ,wrapping the sky in its fold, moving from one end to another. They change their shapes , gather around together to form a big white mass where little streaks of sunlight stream out. Sometimes there is a bit of a conflict in this paradise..where dark clouds throw a veil over the brighter ones, leaving the sky in a grey tone. Life I realize is a rainbow of colours, except we do not get to choose the palette.
I watch as the shore clings on to the waves, but it ebbs leaving the foam behind ..even that evaporates only to be washed away by another wave that drags a bit of the sand with it..I wonder if relationships are like that. The waves erase the memories, the shore tries to cling, the essence is absorbed by the shore and the sea as they carry a bit of each other when they embrace..only to eventually let go. The rocks at a far end are mute spectators to this spectacle. They remain silent as the waves unleash their emotions on them. Sometimes they lash at them, sometimes they embrace, but the rocks do not respond. Sometimes I wonder if this is what they refer to as being rock solid.
I see humans living by the sea, of the sea and I wonder if their understanding of life is much better than us urbanites who worry about mundane issues . As i grapple to understand my destiny and the forces that work within them, I look around and see the entire cycle play out in front of me.
I leave my footprints on the sands of time and wonder if my dreams will come true and if they would be etched for ever, when a wave flows up to me and let the foam curl around my ankles and erase those footprints away.Destiny I realize is not always written by us. We just get to think we play a role here. A little breeze blows past my face and the voice of the waves echo in my ears..Let Go...They say, you give back to the sea something that is important to you..I did just that.I left a part of me , my mind and my thoughts so that I could feel the spacelessness and nothingness inside me, and the voice still tugs in my ears..Let Go...
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Back to the colonial era - Tranquebar
The waves tell a story of their own. Im just back from a weekend trip with a school mate of mine from Tarangambadi or Tranquebar, which was a Danish settlement, during the colonial era. The trip was wonderful for many reasons - I was meeting my friend after several years, the location was completely off the tourist track and it was in many ways, a journey that brought me back on track as well..I am back to blogging with a bang and will be visiting all of you soon..and there will be more posts,of course..have a great week
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