CHENNAI: From your grandfather’s easy chair — carved out of wood and held t o g e t h e r b y jamakalam — to the humble cradle that’s lasted five generations, long-forgotten inland letters to carefully curated pattu sari collection, we find a way to make space for nostalgia and some old-world charm in our everyday life.
While the world chases after heavyweight heirlooms and ancient antiques, there’s much in the way of heritage to be found right in your house, it seems. Ask Sivagamasundari Thavamani, and she’ll host an exhibition to prove that right. Odds are there is one in the making — at least, a webinar — on any given day. All thanks to the architect’s discovery of her grandfather’s trunk petti and the treasures it held.
Collectors’ paradise
Sivagamasundari credits her journey into heritage preservation to her love for architectural conservation. It was right out of a course in material conservation that she got to work with fellow architect Thirupurasundari and her brainchild — Nam Veedu, Nam Oor, Nam Kadhai. “Every year, for Madras Day celebration, they curate an exhibition on Anna Nagar.
My first one was part of this spread. We displayed some of the antiques as a means to tell people the importance of household heritage,” she recounts. While this had been quite a humble spread, her true-blue exhibition came about only in April 2016, on account of World Heritage Day.
Her grandfather’s trunk petti, a hand fan crocheted by her grandmother, old Indian coins and equally old Japanese currency notes, and many more curiosities of its ilk made it to the exhibition. A scroll through her Instagram presents more such collectables — her mother’s Chettinadu jaadi collection, beaded sleeves for glass jars and ink wells, a Stanley London brass compass, vintage ad posters for floral shops and camera service, and letters and revenue bills.
Look closer and you’ll find the geometric goodness of Athangudi tiles and palatial splendour of Chettinadu architecture. There’s much to love in these old school materials, she says. “My house has Kota stone floors. It’s a natural stone from Kota district of Rajasthan. It’s not like granite or marble; it doesn’t look sophisticated or posh — it’s very raw and rugged stone. Yet, it has so many benefits,” Had it fit her budget, she would have chosen red oxide over all else, she says. But, with very few skilled artisans left in the trade, doing it right doesn’t come easy.
If more people were to opt for it, this can change. That’s why she holds architectural workshops under the name Katral Koodam to further the cause of locally available materials and advocates for traditional materials and practices. “For red oxide floors, artisans do not do machine polish; they do it by hand. It involves a lot of manual labour. So it is quite expensive. Yet, when a lot of people start using it, a lot more people will train to do it, and that way, we can try and bring down the cost of it,” she explains.
Courtyard of stories
With the gamut of what makes for ‘heritage’ reaching far and wide, it comes down to the simple test of the stories they tell, suggests Sivagamasundari. “Every heritage item has a story to it. Even your name has a story to it. I recently found an immigration clearance certificate from 1952 among my grandfather’s things. My father explained that it was probably from when he visited to see my infant dad. My paternal grandmother’s crocheted hand-fan was presented to her younger sister on the latter’s wedding day. When my mom (the younger sister’s niece) married her cousin, the fan was presented back to her. So it came back to the family.
I’ve also collected lullabies that my grandmother used to sing to me. My mom talks about how my grandmother used to weave in my dad’s name or my grandfather’s into the song, very naturally. My grandmother learnt these songs from her father and these have been passed on for four generations now,” she shares. Likewise, every family is likely to have songs of their own with its own set of stories, she adds. It was to cover the scope of all this work — and of course, host the annual exhibition — that Sivag amasundari launched the organisation Muttram towards the end of 2016, making her work far more accessible. The name too was not without the touch of stories. “Muttram means courtyard in Tamizh. It is an integral part of every Indian household.
All kinds of activity happen there — vatthal kaaya poduvaanga (they put crisps to dry), rain water gets collected, children play there, ukkaanthu pesuvanga (they sit and chat), weddings and funerals happen there. It holds a lot of memories. Hence, the name,” she narrates. So Muttram has been keeping up the work of household heritage conservation through seminars, workshops and — since the pandemic — webinars. There’s a digital display coming up for the occasion of Madras Week too. She would love to take up the project to school children too, when the virus-riddled world makes way for it. Until then, she has Instagram at her disposal, and more unearthing to get to!