CHENNAI: Most popular dictionaries define the word terrace as “A level paved area next to a building; a patio”. Very few deign to add “a flat roof” as an additional meaning. While it barely describes the reality of millions of Indian households, it’s a universe away from telling you what a mottai maadi means. Wouldn’t you much rather take Anthimaalai Neram’s “mottai maadi meley otrai mazhaiyaagiren”? Yes, it’s not much of a definition; but, it brings you a far more accurate slice of meaning we associate with this versatile architectural element, doesn’t it? After all, mottai maadi is an emotion.
A conservation architect and founder of Nam Veedu Nam Oor Nam Kadhai, Thirupurasundari Sevvel, could probably give you the region-specific definition of a terrace. She surely can reel out the number of ways a patio is different from a terrace, here and abroad. Yet, she chooses to go with a common Tamizh refrain. “Un mel maadi gaali nu solli thittuvom la? Terrace is that the top most part of the house that is open and empty,” she begins.
Beyond such clinical connotations, she prefers to refer to the mottai maadi as a lens to view the world with. “Athu veetukulleye irukara oru chinna ulagam (it’s a small world within the house).For the ‘inner world’ part of things, it offers a place of play, to dry your vadagam, to find respite during those long nights without electricity, and for family functions. But the terrace was also where you could see the thiruvizha oorvalam from, watch the satellite launch. During the 2015 floods, it was the terrace that helped people communicate, get help and stay alive,” she points out, offering a ‘nam kadhai’ to this ubiquitous presence.
One for every mood
When it comes to everyday life, however, who has the time to stop and ponder the things that maketh the maadi? Unless it reaches in and leaves an imprint, of course. For Deepan, the terrace is a place of solitude and peace. What your room cannot offer with its four walls and a door, the mottai maadi can, suggests the advocate. “You must have been up to the terrace so many times in the 20-30 years you’ve lived in the house. But, you may not have always noticed the things around you.
But, in the early morning or evening hours, when you go up there alone and stop to notice the plant that has flowered in your neighbour’s terrace garden or the coconuts that are ripening on the backyard tree, that’s where your solitude brings you the peace you wanted,” he suggests, adding that it’s all the more true if there’s rain to kick things up a notch. Besides the peach, Deepan also found victory on this anointed place. “I was in a kudisai veedu till 2018. It was then that I started building my house. I visited the house while it was still under construction. Steps vaikaatha veetla, thatti thadumaari, maadi eri nikkumbothu oru unarvu irukula? On top of the terrace, I felt like I was moving on to the next stage in life,” he shares.
Elakiya Sivakumar hit a milestone of her own, but it took 26 years for her to get there. She had grown up watching the terrace always be put to use. Be it every pre-wedding ritual that had the family gathering under one roof (no matter who in the family was getting married) or the random nights when she and her cousins gathered to be hand-fed mounds of urundai kuzhambu saadham and appalam. It was the place for water balloon fights and the occasional birthday celebration. Yet, she was never allowed to sleep out there. Not until she was able to commandeer the entire house for a grown-up barbeque night that ended with she and her ragtag group of friends spending the night on the terrace. “After everything died down, we just lied there looking up at the stars; not that there were many in this part of the city, but still. We were not sleepy yet we didn’t feel the need to talk,” she recounts.
A place for play
If it was a childhood dream that found fruition in Elakiya’s case, it was getting to take the spirit of reckless play and adding the ‘professional’ tag to it that transformed the idea of the mottai maadi for Prabhu Mani. Thanks to parkour! “It’s not much fun in an individual house. But, if you take areas like Triplicane and Sowcarpet, the terraces of all the houses will be connected. The terrace would be on different levels, but you would be able to jump from one to another, or to the balcony. When we were kids, it just stopped with flying the kite.
When we lose it, half of us would go chasing after it on the streets and others would be on top, jumping from terrace to terrace. Even the lanes in between would be narrow enough to let us jump. Through all this, people would still be going about their business on the terrace. Then, the mottai maadi becomes a whole different world, far removed from what’s happening on the ground,” he reminisces. It was this spirit that he brought to parkour, where a practice session would have him covering over 30 houses at a stretch. Not everyone would welcome it but that only adds to the fun, he says. What more, their rambunctious activities did inspire their neighbours to come out and use the terrace more.
Big screen reflections
If that and the general idea of mottai maadi reminded you of the antics of Saravanavelu and his kabbadi kuzhu, you’re not alone. Director Halitha Shameem lists the beautifully pictured Triplicane neighbourhood in Ghilli as one of her favourite depictions of the terrace on screen. “Like everybody else, I like the mottai maadi too; it’s like the jannal seat la? So, when it comes to movies, it is only more so. We have to credit Selvaraghavan for showcasing the mottai maadi — he set an entire song (Kan pesum vaarthaigal) there. It was very impactful then. You can easily show so much in this set-up. I worked as the assistant director for Nadodigal.
It was such fun to shoot the terrace scenes. We could show that the friends all slept together on the terrace without caste or class discrimination getting in the way. Like in Velai Illa Pattathari, Dhanush’s character goes up to the terrace to talk to his dead mother. It shows how the mottai maadi becomes a big thing for the middle-class family,” she suggests. Besides these depictions, it was working on the terrace scene in Hey Ammu segment of Sillu Karupatti. “They go up to the terrace when there is no current in the house. It’s there in the silence, under the moonlight, near sleeping children — that they are able to communicate. It’s like the beach kaathu and 4 am phone calls that have us saying everything that comes into our head,” she surmises.
Art in happy spaces
Like Halitha, Kaveri Bharath too got to bring the things she loves about the mottai maadi into her work. It took her all of 18 years to set-up her entire workshop but she now does all her pottery on the terrace of her parents’ place. Over the years, it’s almost part of every family affair. “My parents have been very supportive. Family members, when they visit, they like to come up and see the pottery, see me working in clay. During the summer evening, we have the sea breeze here. So, they like to come up here and hang out while I work. Even this Tamil New Year, my sister, brother-in-law, niece, my kids — all of them came here for lunch. But, we all came up to the maadi because it was such nice weather; then, they hung around to see my day’s work,” she narrates. It’s been such a boon especially during the lockdown period, when she did not have to worry about where she can go and work or how to complete all the orders.
Artist M Koilpitchai Prabhakar, too, had similar concerns. But, it was the need to democratise art and make it directly available to the common man that had him setting up his latest exhibition on his terrace. “In the galleries, you’ll only get artists and potential buyers; possibly architects. But, I wanted the common man to get this experience. When anyone can come in to see the works, they too get an understanding of this world. Even kids came in. I got new buyers too. It was a very natural space and interaction,” he shares.
The epitome of taking one’s art to a ‘natural’ space is, perhaps, our very own Motta Maadi Music. Badhri Narayanan Seshadri may have had many reasons to host the very first sing-along session on his terrace the ready availability of the space for zero cost, the notion that an open space would be less intimidating and such. But, people took on to it because it just fit right in the mottai maadi. “Many people started to come to be in for that ‘vibe’, more than wanting to sing along. So, I decorated my maadi accordingly and made ensured it looked magical. Once they come in, the relatability factor would kick in and it would all come together. That’s how people started liking the idea,” he narrates.
Badhri misses hosting large groups for his sing-along sessions since the pandemic put a hold on proceedings. While the virus may have disrupted many regular routines of life, it did have people embracing the comfort of the terrace again. Be it fitness enthusiasts walking the tight ‘8’ or homebound couples finding an escape, the angry kid storming off after losing an argument with the parents or the closetted smoker sneaking away for a quick fix, the mottai maadi has been there for all. With the pandemic still raging around us, maybe we will find a way to shed our fears about security and qualms about privacy and learn to enjoy the occasional nila soru and thirandha veli sleepovers. After all, it’s “Motta maadi, motta maadi…”