Whose city?

Abstract

This essay examines the socio-spatial transformations of public spaces in Triplicane and Mylapore, two historically significant neighbourhoods in Chennai. It explores the colonial impacts on these areas, which were once temple-centric villages, as they evolved into vibrant urban centres influenced by a myriad of religious, cultural, and political forces. The study highlights the juxtaposition of traditional and modern public spaces, revealing how they became arenas for social interaction and contestation, particularly regarding caste, class, gender, and colonial power dynamics. By drawing on both primary sources and secondary literature, it aims to lay out the interplay between precolonial history and colonial modernisation, advocating for a broader understanding of Chennai's urban identity.

Introduction

Madras, one of the four major urban centres of colonial India, followed a different trajectory of urban spatial growth compared to other colonial cities in India, such as Bombay, Calcutta, and Delhi. While Fort St. George and its racially segregated White and Black neighbourhoods comprised the nucleus, Madras was largely a 'city of magnificent distances' (Evenson 1989), with suburban expansion dedicated to garden houses and wider avenues for European settlers. Traditional occupational villages continued to exist in the peripheries of the town limits. Public spaces in colonial Madras reflected this socio-spatial dichotomy, wherein esplanade, parks, streets, temples, bazaars, and beaches formed the quintessential public spaces in the city and the suburbs saw a proliferation of clubs, miniature parks, lawns, groves, broader avenues and open pastures serving the carriage-owning European and rich natives. 

The ancient neighbourhoods of Triplicane and Mylapore in colonial Madras offer a window into the layered interplay between public spaces of tradition and modernity, colonial influence, and evolving social hierarchies. Once isolated temple-centric neighbourhoods interspersed with dense forests, these areas gradually transformed into vibrant urban centres shaped by religious, cultural, and political forces across centuries. As proximate locations to the colonial seat of power – Fort St. George, this essay examines the spatial and social transformations of these neighbourhoods, tracing how colonial ambitions and indigenous cultural practices influenced access to and control over public spaces. In doing so, it looks at how everyday public spaces of Triplicane and Mylapore have long served as arenas where different social identities have been produced and contested over time. 

To develop this essay, both primary and secondary sources were consulted. Primary sources included travelogues and writings on the Madras Presidency by travellers, government visitors, and urban planners; proceedings from the Legislative Council debates; archival editions of The Hindu newspaper (1900–1947); as well as historical maps, photographs, and video footage. These sources provided critical insights into the spatial, political, and social dynamics of colonial Madras. Secondary sources were employed to contextualise and interpret these materials, particularly to capture the anthropological and sociological dimensions of caste, public space, and urban life. In instances where access to certain archival records was limited, secondary literature served as a valuable resource for constructing historically grounded arguments and filling interpretive gaps.

Triplicane and Mylapore: ancient temple-centric villages of Chennai

There is an unavoidable indulgence amongst scholars to write the history of Chennai from the colonial period. It can be attributed to a colonial way of understanding modernity, and the growth of cities in the East as a direct impact of European mercantilism and imperialist expansion. This perspective neglects several accounts of research that reflect that cities have been a characteristic component of ancient and medieval history in southern India. Medieval South Indian kingdoms—notably the Vijayanagar Empire—played a significant role in shaping urban life, leaving behind enduring social, economic, and political legacies. These precolonial urban centres were not passive backdrops to colonial modernity but dynamic settlements that evolved through indigenous political, religious, and commercial institutions.

The present-day Chennai, as scholars argue, had a long history of settlement before the East India Company set up its factories in a land grant received from a local nayaka under the Vijaynagar kingdom (Srinivaschari 1939). It was an important trading post comprising several ancient settlements and coastal fishing hamlets (Kuppam) along with the Portuguese enclave of San Thome (Waghorne 2004). Some of these settlements—particularly Mylapore and Triplicane (Thiruvallikeni)—can trace their origins as far back as the 7th and 8th centuries CE, during the reigns of the Pallava and Chola dynasties. These kingdoms contributed significantly to the spatial organisation, political administration, and religious economy of what would later become part of colonial Madras (Hall 2014). 

Triplicane was a small village centred around the 6th-century AD Vaishnavite temple built by the Pallava kingdom and subsequently expanded by the Chola and Vijayanagar kings (Rangacharya 1919; Muthiah 1999). The surrounding land was classified as brahmadeya or devadāna (also called shrotriyam)—a royal endowment to Brahmins and the temple. Such land grants were not merely religious offerings but formed the basis of an extensive temple-based socio-economic system, where the temple functioned as a nucleus of political power, economic redistribution, and social organisation (Appadurai, 1997). These endowments symbolised royal sovereignty and divine legitimacy, and they were often tied to other public utilities such as irrigation tanks, reservoirs, and agrarian systems. Several surrounding suburbs were brought under the administration of the temple during the subsequent kingdoms (Epigraphica Indica 1906, 291), thereby increasing the wealth, control and influence of the 'religious-urban centres' (Appadurai 1997) and the administrative apparatus, which consisted of local mercantile groups and leaders. The temple in Triplicane is one of the 108 divya desam (sacred shrines mentioned by poet-saints of the Vaishnava religious tradition) and the neighbourhood continues to attract significant religious tourists from across the country (Chetty 1948).

A strategic proximity to the sea and colonial nucleus of Fort St. George made Triplicane a critical acquisition for the British. In 1676, it was acquired from one Musa Khan — the agent of the Sultan of Golcunda (Srinivaschari 1939). The village was put under the leadership of the Company’s chief merchant Kasi Viranna and later Pedda Venkadari, who were instrumental in maintaining the land and temple activities in the neighbourhood. Following subsequent attacks by the French and Dutch settlers on San Thome, the British rulers formally acquired it in 1720 in an attempt to strengthen the fortifying villages around the Fort (Srinivaschari 1939). This move was part of a broader colonial strategy to fortify and control the villages in Madras, gradually integrating these ancient religious-urban centres into the expanding colonial city.

The transformation of Triplicane accelerated in the 18th century when the Nawab of Arcot relocated his residence to the newly built Chepauk Palace. This royal shift led to clearing of agricultural lands and forests to accommodate an expanding urban population working in factories under the East India Company (Loganathan 1939). The Nawab's presence in Triplicane encouraged a significant migration of Muslims into what had previously been a predominantly Hindu neighbourhood. This shift aligned with the East India Company's interests, as it contributed to the consolidation of population in areas adjoining Fort St. George, enhancing administrative and economic control. The Nawab invested heavily in the area's development, constructing key buildings such as the Wallajah Mosque and supporting various social and commercial activities. His patronage contributed to Triplicane's emergence as a multicultural hub, fostering a vibrant mix of religious, ethnic, and economic identities.

Mylapore, the town centre to Triplicane village (Dikshitar 1939), has historically been a significant trading post for centuries. Known as Maliarpha or Meliapore (Kalyansundaram 1913; Muthiah 1999) in several traveller accounts, the neighbourhood adjacent to the sea has been famous for its prominence as the place where Thiruvalluvar (a great poet and philosopher) lived for a short time (Srinivaschari 1939). Mylapore also served as a site of revival of Christianity under St. Thomas and a longstanding Portuguese colony of San Thome before it came under the British Empire in 1749. The then town of Mylapore, with its native Hindu population, was a dedicated, fortified and organised urban centre which saw several sieges under the Portuguese, Dutch, French and British colonial powers, leaving a significant influence on the form and morphology of the settlement (Kalyansundaram 1913).

_{Image: Developed urban centres of Triplicane (including Chepauk Palace) and Mylapore (Saint Thomas) and its spatial layout. Source: Ravenshaw’s Map of Town of Madras, 1822 (British Library)}

In ancient texts, Mylapore (mylai-pore) derives its name from the word mylai, meaning 'peacocks' or 'land of peacocks'. Originally a Hindu settlement surrounded by fishing hamlets, the town was centred around the 7th century CE Kapaleeswarar temple, built during the Pallava kingdom, which was destroyed during various periods of siege and paved the way for the rebuilding of the revered site of worship for followers of Saivism, the Kapaleeswarar temple complex (Dikshitar 1939; Wagahorne 2004). The temple, much more magnificent than its previous site with its ornate architecture, was built during the 16th century by the Vijaynagara kingdom and subsequently renovated through the efforts of the merchant communities who invested in temple complexes as a way of maintaining their status within the community. This is starkly similar to various attempts at building and maintaining temples in Black Town and other parts of the city to enhance their position as major players in the East India Company, as well as those in the native communities of the Madras Presidency. The merchants assumed the ritualistic role of dharmakartas in both the temples of Triplicane and Mylapore, overseeing maintenance of funds and resource allocation in the temples, occupying positions of power and prestige before the British took control of the temple administration in the late 19th century. The opulence of the merchants manifested spatially in the form of European-style garden houses in Mylapore, similar to the ones enjoyed by the British officers in Triplicane and elsewhere in the city (Neild 1977). These developments reveal how indigenous elites both adapted to and appropriated colonial spatial aesthetics to signal their hybrid identities and aspirations within the shifting urban order of colonial Madras.

In terms of the spatial layout, Triplicane and Mylapore, being Agraharams, had rows of Brahmin houses around the temple in its four madas (streets). The streets were significant in terms of the temple's processional ritual in the neighbourhood. Beyond this sacred core, the neighbourhoods were segregated along caste lines, in alignment with the jati-varna system. The peripheries of the neighbourhood were typically inhabited by lower-caste groups, including the Paraiyars and Sudras in the ceri (colonies), whose physical and ritual access to the central spaces of the settlement was heavily restricted. The spatial arrangement was informed by notions of ritual purity and pollution, as well as hierarchies of wealth and social status (Fuller and Narasimhan 2010). 

To the east, these neighbourhoods were bordered by kuppams—long-established fishing hamlets near the coastline—whose communities, though diverse in religious practice and often considered outside the rigid varna structure, were closely integrated into the religious-urban economy. Despite their marginalised spatial location, members of the fishing community played important roles in temple rituals, especially during major festivals, where their participation was indispensable. Historical references and oral traditions highlight their involvement in processional logistics, music, and other auxiliary services during events such as the Brahmotsavam (Appadurai 1997). This points to a complex, though hierarchical, web of ritual interdependence that shaped everyday public life in these neighbourhoods long before colonial interventions began to reconfigure these social-spatial relationships.

Religion as an organising principle of public sociality in Triplicane and Mylapore

Before we outline the major public spaces in the neighbourhood, it is important to note that Triplicane and Mylapore, as Agraharams, have a distinctive architectural component as compared to the newer settlements that emerged during the colonial period. The characteristic component is low-built courtyard houses with tiled roofs and open platformed verandas - thinnai forming a seamless transition into the street. The traditional thinnai was a semi-public space, often used by older men as spaces for socializing with other men from the neighbourhood. The houses were designed to accommodate families within the household, with a kitchen at the rear end of the structure. The two-storey houses appeared in the 19th century, when young men joined the colonial services and were influenced by European architecture. These houses became an eclectic mix of traditional and modern elements of architecture of the time, facilitating both domestic enclosure and community interaction along the streets. The width of the streets decreased as one moved from the centre of the temple, following the varna system of residential segregation. 

The formerly agricultural and forested land between Triplicane and Mylapore was gradually appropriated by colonial elites, wealthy Hindu merchants, and dubashes, who constructed elaborate garden houses. These structures, removed from the congestion of Black Town and Fort St. George, offered a suburban retreat and reflected the shifting spatial preferences of the urban elite (Hancock 1999). The architectural and spatial transformations mirrored broader social realignments and emerging notions of privacy, domesticity, and class-based exclusivity.

_{Image: Thinnai and two-storey colonial-era houses in Triplicane}

In Triplicane and Mylapore, the idea of public space and associated publicity was a contested notion, wrapped up in sectarian identities, colonial governance and vernacular modernities (Hancock 2002). The main temple with its tanks was the central public space in the neighbourhoods; a space of publicity for the Brahmins and dominant caste groups in the area. Along with the interiors, the ambulatory streets with an eclectic mix of shops selling ritualistic items such as a variety of flowers and garlands, coconuts, fruits, banana leaves, etc., were also spaces of everyday publicity. The streets boasted of daily bazaars (selling fruits and vegetables), coffee shops and roasters, tea stalls, textile shops, book stores, etc.  The temple calendar and associated festivities dictated the everyday life of the people in the neighbourhoods. It is, as Appadurai (1997) argues in the case of temple deities in Southern India, a humanisation of the deity and the corporeality embedded in the everyday rituals, including 'waking up the deity, dressing and periodically feeding it, and putting it to sleep at night' (ibid. p.22). Appadurai (1997) contends that this practice is linked to the Puranic and Agamic texts, in which the idols represent not just allegory or metaphor but are entirely corporeal, aware, and intelligent. The deity takes on the role of universal ruler and sovereign, becoming indistinct from human monarchs and their accompanying symbols such as palanquins, umbrellas, elephants/horses, dancers, musicians, etc., thereby reinforcing the social connection between the community and the daily social life of the temple.

The temple festivals that spanned across several days a year (218 days—in case of Triplicane temple) constituted an important component of sociality in the two neighbourhoods (Madras - Mylapore Tank and Religious Processions 1970), with visitors from across the city flocking the streets following the daily processions of the deities and alvars/nayamars (poets-saints). The festival cut across sectarian identities and local corporate groups who gathered during the procession and rituals, making the temple an important aspect of collective sociality in the neighbourhoods. 

As noted above, as a space of public importance, the temple afforded graded access to different social groups. People from lower caste communities were not allowed inside the temple or participate in the festivals. In absence of access to a sacred social space, they were forced to develop separate spaces of religious worship on the outskirts of the neighbourhood. Stepping on to the streets around the temple was also subjected to violence by the upper caste communities in the neighbourhood. Even in largely urban neighbourhoods which were believed to have countered the hierarchical caste rigidities of the village, the neighbourhoods of Triplicane and Mylapore continued to maintain dominant caste hierarchies.

_{Image: Processions in Triplicane (Source: Author)}

Just like their Sultanate predecessors, foreign powers did not interfere in the religious spatial practices of the neighbourhoods and, for a long time, accepted the rights of the tax-free temple lands and mirasidar rights to a point beneficial for their succession. This meant the local corporate and merchants groups from the landowning Vellalar and Mudaliar castes played significant roles in the management and functioning of the temples and associated activities. These spaces acted as meeting points for different caste heads on deliberation of issues pertaining to the social, economic and political life in the neighbourhoods. It was in the best interest of the Empire to maintain the caste hierarchy in the Madras Presidency to ensure legitimacy and authority over the natives (Dirks 2002). In a semblance of a symbiotic relationship, the colonial government officials were encouraged to participate in the temple festivals and also compelled Christian converts and the oppressed castes to engage themselves in various activities of the temple that would not directly disrupt the caste order (Mukund 2005). This was welcomed by the native Brahmin population, whose legitimacy in the varna system was maintained. Mukund (2005) finds references to this relationship by a poet Venkatadhvarin in his work, 'Viswagunadarsa Campu' in the local narrative in Triplicane, where two yakshas (divine beings) are flying over the country:

"The cynical yaksha says that the holiness of the town of Triplicane, with its famous temple, had been compromised by its proximity to Madras, ruled by barbaric foreigners (Huns) who did not respect Brahmins, the righteous and the learned. The romantic yaksha, however, argues that the English have their own values and their own systems, and adds that they build great things." (Mukund 2005, 8)

It was not until the legal reforms initiated by the Justice Party, such as the Madras Temple Entry Authorisation Act of 1947, that challenged the traditional exclusion of Dalits and other oppressed castes from temple premises and tanks. It was highly debated in the Legislative Assembly, attracting the ire of upper-caste Hindus, who pled against the Bill citing breaking the sanctity of temples' distance from state administration. 

However, in Triplicane, Neild (1977) notes, the fishing villages were accorded temple' hereditary duties and privileges, reflecting the importance of fishing to the original village of Triplicane' as śrīpātamtāṅkīs (bearers of the lord's feet). The processions occupied the entire streetscapes, moving with a bastion of Brahmin priests, led by the temple elephant (a practice which can be traced to the late 20th century), musicians, performers and worshippers; creating "streetscapes whose visual, spatial and acoustic character is inflected by Hindu imagery and praxis" (Hancock 2008, 90). Even with the siege of Triplicane and Mylapore by the Sultan of Golcunda, temples constituted a crucial negotiation tactic for maintaining the sovereignty of the rulers, resulting in enormous donations to temples and various religious buildings (Mukund 2005). It is worth noting that the Kapaleeswarar temple tank in Mylapore was built on land gifted by Mohammad Ali, the Nawab of the Carnatic, and was used by both Hindus and Muslims during various festivities (Muthiah 1999).

_{Images: Kapaleeswarar Temple Festival (1940) and Parthasarathy Temple (Triplicane)}

As spaces of sociality, the festivals associated with the main temples provided occasions for singing, dancing and dramas that enacted the mythological origins of the temple and snippets from Ramayana and Mahabharata. The temples simultaneously grew as centre of arts and as a site of cultivation of Brahmanical musical traditions - Carnatic Music. The temples attracted public performances by musical legends who sang hymns in praise of the residing deity (Sambamoorthy 1939). While the performance spaces of the temple were led and controlled by upper-caste male performers, the temples in Triplicane and Mylapore were also part of the Devadasi system. Only women from lower castes were integral to the performance rituals in the temple under the devadasi system- a religious and culturally sanctioned form of prostitution where young unmarried women from lower castes were offered to the deities of the temple and suffered sexual and social exploitation (Hancock 1999). They enjoyed certain ritual privileges in the temple and held regular performances in temples with a large audience. However, they still operated under the patriarchy of the temple economy and were often subjected to forced prostitution and oppression. The devadasi also became the embodiment of hierarchies of femininity in public spaces, wherein a certain form of visibility in public spaces were attributed to caste status. 

As Madras became a symbol of colonial modernity in the mid-nineteenth century, efforts to preserve a superior colonial morality vis-à-vis native practices emerged as tools of caste and patriarchal control. On the other hand, Hindu nationalist movements that moved to reform Hinduism of its social perils, rallied for the abolition of the practice. The Devadasi System in the temples was abolished in 1947 with the passing of the Devadasi Abolition Bill in the Legislative Assembly led by Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy amidst cries from the Madras Presidency Devadasi Association and notably Gowri Amma (1892-1971), the last hereditary dancer attached to the Kapaleeswarar Temple in Mylapore who rallied for education, protection and patronage to alleviate the condition of devadasis in the city without reducing the community as a symbol of dishonour. Ironically, the post-abolition period saw the art forms cultivated by devadasis resurrected and rebranded as Bharatanatyam, now recast as a "classical" dance performed by upper-caste women, especially Brahmins like Rukmini Arundale (Sambamoorthy 1939). This transition marked a significant re-inscription of caste and gender hierarchies in the access to cultural public spaces (Hancock 1999).

The importance of the temple as a public space in the sociality of the Madras Presidency made it imperative for the colonial authorities to exert influence on the functioning of the temples and of the land in general. The temple was maintained by the East India Company’s chief merchants who carried on responsibilities of management of funds, festivals, land rent and conflict resolutions in the community (Mukund 2005). The military troops participated in the maintenance of order during festivals or caste conflicts that often broke out in the neighbourhoods (Sambamoorthy 1939). 

Over time, the importance of temples as deliberative spaces made them sites of increasing state intervention. Citing corruption and mismanagement in institutions like the Parthasarathy Temple, colonial authorities challenged hereditary positions such as the dharmakarta (trustee) (Love 1988, 129). In Triplicane, succession by dominant caste elites was disrupted when the British appointed a dubash from the Yadava caste as dharmakarta in the 18th century—a symbolic redistribution of ritual authority aligned with colonial interests (Mukund, 2005). The transformation in land tenure under the Ryotwari system, coupled with high taxation, led to the decline of traditional landowning castes in these neighbourhoods. Many migrated to newly developing suburbs, facilitated by improved transport infrastructure. Their departure was followed by an influx of English-educated Brahmins who occupied positions in the colonial bureaucracy, including as lawyers, clerks, and teachers; this further reshaped the social and ritual order of temples in both Triplicane and Mylapore (Waghorne 2004). 

By the early 20th century, temples in Madras became increasingly controlled by elite Brahmin families, who exercised authority over land, resources, and ritual practices. However, this consolidation of power was met with resistance from Non-Brahmin movements, particularly the Justice Party. Following the Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms (1919–1935), the Justice Party passed the Hindu Religious Endowments Act (1926), aimed at curbing Brahmin dominance in temple administration and ensuring broader accountability to the Hindu public (Pillai 1982).

Aspirations and contestations for modernity in public spaces 

The economic expansion that triggered the growth of the Presidency saw an uninhibited and haphazard growth of contiguous neighbourhoods of Triplicane and Mylapore that grew bigger and congested with the influx of population to the core. By the 19th century, public hygiene in streets became a health cry for the city officials, trying to bring a semblance of European ways of life onto Madras streets without reflecting on the existing typologies, patterns and forms of public spaces in the Madras Presidency (Love 1988, 128).  Some of the strategies included the levying of Scavenger Duty Tax on natives which was highly protested, removal of beggars, homeless and untouchables from the streets through regular deployment of policemen, installation of street lighting (the cost of which were to be borne by the natives), crackdown on the small vendors selling fish on and near the Promenade; and strict control on the expansion of neighbourhood bazars, restricting the spatial expansion of native uses of public spaces in the neighbourhoods. Marina Beach and the neighbourhood of Triplicane, with its traditional houses and huts, fishing hamlets, temples, mosques, streets and bazaars, were separated by a long line of European architectural monuments to render invisible the duality of colonial modernity in Madras. 

Colonial anxieties around slums, street congestion, and "undesirable" practices led to policies aimed at spatial purification. In 1933–34, a Special Housing Committee (Srinivasachari 1939) was established to address the city's growing slum population—estimated at over one lakh—many of whom lived in areas like Parthasarathy Kuppam in Triplicane. The kuppam, despite its deep-rooted cultural and ritual integration into the temple's life, came to be viewed as a public health problem, due to its contrast with the orderly, symbolic vision of the colonial Marina. Small-scale fish vendors, itinerant performers, and working-class residents were increasingly marginalised in public debates about city hygiene and order. Public space, once the site of layered, plural, and contested uses, was gradually flattened into a domain of surveillance and control. While plans of relocation were proposed, it was met with hefty appeals from the fishermen community and any steps towards removing them were thwarted during the period.

Lancaster (1918) noted in his report on the condition of urban planning in Madras Presidency, that the city has seen a growth in the number of modern clubs, theatres and cinema halls as spaces of recreational public spaces; an element native Indian population has borrowed from their European counterparts. Clubs, a concept introduced by European settlers, became a highlight of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century as various clubs sprung open in the colonial city catering to different clientele primarily because as a response to the European-only clubs that had long discriminated the entry of Indians into such spaces of public sociality such as that of the Madras Club established in 1832 (Muthiah 1999). This was a result of creating an identity of a rising social stature of the natives in the colonial economy in Madras and distancing themselves from the working class. The Cosmopolitan Club, established in 1873, was a mixed club open to Indians and Europeans with a prominent location on the Mount Road. The club, in addition to its recreational purposes, also served as a platform for robust political discussions and involvement in nationalist movements against colonial rule. The clubs hosted nationalist leaders M.K.Gandhi and Rajendra Prasad during their visit to the city. 

Prominently, in the wake of women's involvement in the public sphere in various capacities, the city also witnessed the birth of the Mylapore Ladies Recreation Club, a women-only club that was established in 1911 as a joint initiative of European women and Indian women from the elite class to create a space for recreation and sports. Regardless of the mixed-race status of the club, the space and its activities followed the needs of the European settlers. The club was not only famous for providing a space for activities such as badminton, tennis, knitting, crocheting, etc., but it also acted as a social welfare institution, helping the Red Cross during the Great War by raising funds through different activities and donations from its elite clientele. It also acted as a space for conjoining the needs of women as caregivers, organising special events for the children of the women members of the club.   

Away from the magnanimity of clubs, the streets of Mylapore, followed by Triplicane, saw the proliferation of new spaces of everyday public sociality: the coffee hotels becoming abundantly popular amongst upper-caste, middle-class men. 'A public tavern instituted by Brahmins' (Venkatachalapathy 2006), these coffee stalls were socially segregated from the tea stalls, which served the poor working-class population in the neighbourhood. They were soon followed by Brahmin-only' messes': communal dining halls offering food to Brahmin men residing in mansions— hostels for young men who migrated to the city for education and employment. The Brahmin-only messes that became a characteristic feature of Triplicane in the early 20th century were stringent in terms of who was allowed to enter spaces of communal dining based on the notion of purity and pollution. Displaying the sacred thread—poonol was mandatory for access, thereby restricting non-Brahmin groups from socialising in such spaces. In continuity with the prevalent notions Brahmanical morality, these spaces seldom opened their doors for women, as eating in public spaces along with men and other caste groups were seen as transgressive of ‘respectable’ notions of femininity.   

The only institution that resembled, in essence, the cultural role of clubs in the city was the sabha, a culmination of a traditional space for public gathering centred on cultural patronage from its Brahmin and non-Brahmin elite audience, which had grown since the mid-19th century. The sabhas were initially attached to the temple, serving as spaces for music, dance and theatre. With the Hindu revival and reformist movements that swept the Madras Presidency, emphasis on creating an ecosystem comprising learning, teaching and patronage of Carnatic music and Bharatasastra became pertinent. Parthasarathy Swami Sabha in Triplicane, a public institution, was started in 1990 to conduct bhajans and Harikatha in praise of the reigning deity for the local community (Appadurai 1997). It gained momentum in the following decades as it attracted several prominent musicians, dancers and theatre groups who held kutcheri (concerts) in open spaces in the locality during festivals and Marghazi month in the city. Some of these venues, like the Hindu School and National Girls' Higher Secondary School, continue to serve as community venues for local activities in the neighbourhood. In the 1960s, the sabha finally found its permanent residence in T.P.Koil Street in Triplicane with its own auditorium, café and ticket booth, which continues to draw crowds even today. Several smaller sectarian sabhas grew in these neighbourhoods (Mylapore Fine Arts Academy opened its doors in 1950) as it did in other parts of the city, with a different clientele over the second half of the 20th century. 

During the freedom struggle, the sabhas would host nationalist speeches and dramas to grow national consciousness amongst the masses against the colonial oppressive rule and acted as a medium of popular mobilisation. Playwrights on oppressive religious establishments, feudalism, colonial exploitation, the condition of women and caste drew the ire of the colonial government and upper-caste alike, resulting in stringent actions against such spaces as the formulation of the Dramatic Performances Act of 1876 and 1953, highlighting how theatre became a contentious public space in colonial and postcolonial Madras. Stage artists had to navigate bureaucratic processes of sanctions, approvals, cancellations, police informants, and attacks to bring their dramas to fruition. It suffered stiff competition from the cinema halls in the mid-twentieth century, as the English-educated population in the city was attracted to the English and later multilingual matinee screenings. One of the oldest theatres in the city was Star Talkies in Triplicane, which is famous for the first ever screening of Tamil Talkie 'Kalidasa' (Sujatha 2012). 

These forms of modern public spaces emerged as arenas for political and social consolidation among the Brahmin elite during the nineteenth and early twentieth century, notably embedded in the 'Mylapore clique' or 'Triplicane six' (Pillai 1982). This played a crucial role in the early days of the Madras Congress. Owing to their hierarchy of access, these inaccessible social spaces became the site of political action during the Anti-Brahmin movement in the city. During the ongoing anti-caste movements in the city, such hierarchically truncated public spaces came under severe attack from the members of the Justice Party and became active demonstration sites. In the Self-Respect Chengalpet conference in 1929, Periyar launched an attack on the Brahmin-only spaces, often looking towards authorities to ensure the end of such establishments by de-licensing them. In Triplicane, with its abundance of Brahmin-only mess signs, Periyar tarred the word on one of the messes, resulting in widespread agitation from the Brahmins living in the neighbourhood (Sriram 2021). Several hostels and messes serving non-Brahmins were started in the early 20th century in the neighbourhood, one notably by Dr. Natesan in the Akbar Sahib Street called the Dravidar Hostel.  Thus, the caste-based segregation of urban public spaces in colonial Madras was both a reflection of and a battleground for broader social hierarchies. While Brahmin-only coffee hotels and messes symbolised a ritualised form of caste privilege, their contestation through non-Brahmin institutions and political mobilisation transformed these public spaces into a critical theatre for the struggle against caste oppression.

While sabhas and clubs became sites of elite movement driven by the Congress party, the streets and the Marina beach became theatres of everyday resistance against the colonial power. The Marina beach, near the neighbourhoods of Triplicane and Mylapore, had always been a space of sociality for the residents, irrespective of their sectarian identities, looking to escape the overcrowded and congested streets of their localities. It holds religious significance with respect to both the temples of the neighbouring, constituting an important component of the ritualistic journey of devotees. During the annual festival, the Marina Beach was also a crucial component of the ambulatory streets of temple processions, followed by a holy dip in the sea.  Besides being a ritualistic public space, the Marina Beach provided respite in the evenings with a variety of food stalls run by local vendors and performances by singers and travelling street theatres (Lakshmi 2004). 

Further, Marina, with its architectural splendour and colonial symbolism, was seen as a crucial site for the national movement challenging the oppressive colonial regimes. Earlier a site of gathering, Marina became a site of active demonstrations, speeches, desecration of colonial statues (Menon 2015), boycotts and Satyagraha during the freedom struggle, bringing hundreds of people from across the city. From protests against the Rowlatt Act to widespread boycott of the Simon Commission to the Salt Satyagraha led by local leaders, Marina became a symbol of resistance against colonial rule. During the Salt Satyagraha, the march began from the Parthasarathy Temple at Triplicane and made its way to the Marina beach, crossing major colonial institutions, chanting nationalistic songs such as Bharthi's Achamillai, achamillai (There is no fear, there is no fear), Thayin Manikkodi Pareer, etc. (Lakshmi 2004). Marina continues to mimic its vibrant political past as it serves as space for assertion of socio-political identities. Post-independence, it evolved into a symbolic space for Chennai’s postcolonial identity, marked by the proliferation of statues and memorials commemorating Dravidian leaders and nationalist icons, underscoring its continued importance as a site of political representation and collective memory (Hancock 2008).

Conclusion

This essay outlines how the public spaces evolved in the two ancient neighbourhoods of Triplicane and Mylapore under the colonial ambitions of the British Empire. From small villages to growing centres of culture, literary traditions and religious urbanity, the neighbourhoods display layered ambivalences between rural traditions and modernity in their spatial manifestations. From one-storey courtyard houses and palatial garden houses to multi-storey buildings and bustling markets, public spaces of sociality in these neighbourhoods developed according to the changing socio-spatial matrix.

As Chennai grew into a bustling colonial industrial city with its scattered suburbs and congested cores, the two neighbourhoods developed as core areas of settlement for migrant labourers, bureaucrats, students, etc. The once open lands, pastures and dense forests were replaced by jostling houses, shops, factories, roads and railways, impacting open public spaces in the city. This new growth in public spaces was mimicked in other neighbourhoods of the city, which soon became part of the Madras city limits. 

In the absence of ample open public spaces, the traditional spaces of temples, tanks and markets in Triplicane and Mylapore emerged as prominent locales of public sociality. The temple compounds, monthly festivals, deity processions, bustling street markets and cultural performances in and around the premises drew people to the space. These neighbourhood public spaces dominated in native quarters of Chennai, when colonial imposition of segregation and Victorian moral order dominated the clubs, cinemas, squares, gardens, Esplanade and Marina Beach. With an increased social mobility amongst the upper-caste residents of these neighbourhoods, modern public spaces such as coffee shops, eateries, cinema halls, mixed-racial clubs, etc., became important spaces of socialising and were instrumental in influencing significant political associations in the city.

However, the essay also stresses how public spaces in these neighbourhoods were not monolithic and emerged as sites of contestations around one’s caste, class, religious and gender associations. Besides racial disparity in colonial public spaces in Chennai, traditional and new public spaces in the two neighbourhoods also reflected the social segregation in access and representation of certain social groups. Predominantly, as Brahmin and upper-caste dominated neighbourhoods, Triplicane and Mylapore temples had restricted entry for Dalits, which extended to the streets around the temple. The caste hegemony permeated popular public spaces of this period, such as coffee shops, messes (community dining halls) and sabhas (community cultural centres). This period saw the proliferation of non-Hindu establishments in the neighbourhoods that became widely popular amongst young non-Brahmin men. 

Similarly, an analytical foray into the public spaces of these two neighbourhoods cannot be complete without understanding the gendered everyday practices and negotiations in the public spaces of Triplicane and Mylapore. The idea of femininity was also associated with one's caste status, and prescriptive corporeal practices of 'being in public' dominated the lives of the women in the neighbourhoods. The accepted practices of women from Brahmin and upper-caste families were entrusted with a particular form of visibility in the early 20th century, one which revolved around the ritualistic practices of the temple. Even with increasing social mobility and emancipation during the freedom struggle, women's visibility in public spaces was circumscribed by Brahmanical notions of femininity. Entry into sabhas, participating in performing arts, dancing, unaccompanied visits to shops or eateries and adopting 'Western' forms of clothing were seen as transgressions of normative womanhood, pushing stricter controls on women's access to public spaces in the city. However, at the same time, participation of women in women-only public spaces, such as the Mylapore Ladies' Club, engaging in different activities with their European counterparts, was an acceptable norm within the Western-educated young families. These forms of enclosed visibility of upper-caste women from the neighbourhoods in public spaces were pitted against Dalit women's visibility as active participants in the public life of the cities, whose corporeal practices were seen as a danger to the upper-caste notions of femininity, preventing any form of intermixing. 

The differential access to public spaces catapulted into a series of political actions in the neighbourhoods against their hierarchical nature. From picketing and active demonstrations by the Justice Party in mid-twentieth-century Madras, to the proliferation of non-Brahmin establishments as counter-public spaces, and to legislation against the exclusivity and authoritarianism of Brahmin-dominated temple complexes, public spaces became active sites of contestation of social identities in colonial Madras. Further, colonial public spaces such as the Marina Beach and its promenade became a prominent arena for active political demonstrations and protests during the freedom struggle. They later served as a platform for nationalist speeches, cultural performances, and memorials celebrating Dravidian and nationalist leaders.

Post-Independence, the neighbourhoods continued to negotiate the tensions between tradition and modernity, layering new experiences onto their historic urban fabric amidst a growing population and narrowing lanes. While colonial structures along Marina Beach and the commercial hubs of Mount Road emerged as focal points of postcolonial urban life, the older neighbourhoods—despite their enduring cultural and religious significance—struggled to reclaim and revitalise their lost public spaces. As Chennai evolved into a centre of modernist planning during the Nehruvian era and beyond, newer public spaces reflected changing socialities shaped by persistent caste, gender, and class divisions.

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