No frills, the true Avadi story

Last week, I went to the Sir Ramaswami Mudaliar School in Ambattur to judge an elocution competition. The topic was (what else?) “If Chennai’s old buildings and streets could speak.” Driving back, I reflected on how Avadi, the neighbouring area, would scream from the rooftops if it could speak — that its name is not an acronym for Armoured Vehicles and Ammunition Depot of India. If only that grand title could even be remotely true!

Some progress has since been made, and Wikipedia now acknowledges that this is not true. But that has not silenced WhatsApp University. When it comes to such matters, my go-to resource is always MacLean’s Manual of the Administration of Madras Presidency, 1885. It clearly identifies “Avady” as a railway station nine miles northwest of Sydapett. MacLean helpfully adds, though this may be untrue, that the name evolved from Aa Kudi — a village of cattle — and that it represents the ancient Augoody Naud, an area classification dating back to the Chola times.

However, I have not come across this reference anywhere else. What is clear is that the name Avadi was in use at least as early as the 19th century, long before armoured vehicles and ammunition depots on a national scale were even dreamt of.

We now turn to another source — Achanta Lakshmipathy, the renowned eye surgeon who, in the early 20th century, increasingly turned to Ayurveda and began practising it. In his reminiscences, he writes about Avadi in 1919.

How he came to visit the place is an interesting story. With an increasing patient list, Lakshmipathy faced the problem of arranging accommodation for them in Madras. He initially hired six houses in Harris Road (now Adithanar Salai), where he lived, and later acquired a few acres in Guindy. But when the Racecourse began expanding, he had to move. It was then that he was invited to treat a patient in Avadi and had to spend a night there. The following morning, he went for a walk and was enchanted by what he saw.

“I saw a beautiful lotus tank which was known as Antharadi Kolam. Due to the green paddy fields in the area it was a very pleasant sight in the month of December. Yagna was performed at this site in the olden days. There were huge peepul and neem trees. The actual name of the tank was Anantha Narayana Deekshitulu Koneru. It seemed he had performed a yagna here in ancient times. There was forest all around.”

It is difficult to believe that this was Avadi in 1919. What follows is even better — land cost just ₹100 an acre, and Lakshmipathy purchased four acres. He soon needed more land and learnt that around 112 acres belonged to Nawab Humayun Jah Bahadur, which were later acquired by the businessman-philanthropist C. Abdul Hakim. The land was initially leased at a concessional rate and later acquired, with the area named Hakim Nagar in gratitude.

By the 1930s, Dr. Lakshmipathy owned 300 acres in Avadi, where he ran his health farm, Arogya Ashrama. The foundation stone was laid by Jacob Aron Chowry Muthu, the tuberculosis specialist who founded the Tambaram Sanatorium. The Ashrama enjoyed great success throughout the 1930s.

With the outbreak of World War II, the government needed space to accommodate refugees and army regiments. It decided to take over Arogya Ashrama and paid compensation to Lakshmipathy. In keeping with the spirit of the times and his family’s ideals — his wife, Rukmini, was a freedom fighter — he decided to set aside the money until a worthy cause emerged.

That opportunity came when his son-in-law, B. Ramamurthy, became India’s first neurologist. Under his management, the money was used to establish a neurological block at the General Hospital and, later, another at the Voluntary Health Services in Taramani. Both buildings commemorate Lakshmipathy by bearing his name. He passed away in 1962. Rukmini is remembered through Rukmini Lakshmipathy Salai, formerly Marshall’s Road.

And what of Avadi? After the war over and Independence, the land proved useful for the Avadi Congress session of 1955, when the area was temporarily renamed Satyamurti Nagar. By the early 1960s, defence establishments started appearing one by one — Heavy Vehicles Factory, Engine Factory, Ordnance Clothing Factory and the Combat Vehicles and Research Establishment. By the 1970s, Avadi had become a defence area, giving rise to the apocryphal story about the origin of its name.

Avadi today is a far cry from what Dr. Lakshmipathy describes it to have been. There is, however, an area called Tamarai Kulam, though I could find no sign of a lotus pond. Of Hakim Nagar too there is no sign – perhaps it was swallowed up by the defence establishments.

(Sriram V. is a writer and historian)