MUNRO, MY HERO

The one thing I have been attracted to in the city of Madras since I was a boy of seven is the equestrian statue of Thomas Munro. The first time I saw it, was when I walked along Mount Road holding my grandfather's hand. At that very moment, I fell for its beauty, dignity, and air of authority.

Thomas Munro the rider and the horse he was riding captivated me. I used to gaze at this masterpiece. The sharp facial features of the British Governor—his well-chiselled nose, his firm jawline, and his curly hair—overwhelmed me. The statue exactly matched the profile I read of him later on.

His horse, with that alluring tail, was perfectly cast. Its hooves, its rippling muscles, pricked ears, and above all, its eyes with lashes make you think that it may come alive anytime, jump from its pedestal along with its dignified rider, and gallop along Mount Road towards Raj Bhavan where the ex-British Governor resided.

My grandfather showed me George V, who, to this date, stands holding the globe in his hand near the Flower Bazaar Police Station. His crown, covered with the droppings of birds (mostly crows), did not impress me.

Much later, our political leaders were into erecting statues for persons from Tamil literature and the freedom movement. A number of them sprung up on the sands of Madras beach. None of these statues can stand a close scrutiny; they are just smudgy silhouettes.

After renaming roads which once bore the names of British administrators, some of these politicians started casting their malevolent glances on statues of the bygone British era.

I became really concerned when pressure was mounting on the Madras Corporation for the removal of Munro’s statue. Apart from this statue’s merit as an art piece, Munro as a British ruler did more good to the people of Madras Province.

Munro fought and won for the natives a number of concessions from the British Raj, risking his career and position. There is an authenticated story about his meeting with Sri Raghavendra Swamy at the saint's Samadhi, at the end of which he withdrew his proposal to take over the lands of the Raghavendra Math.

It is also a fact that he died doing his duty when he contracted cholera while touring a district in Andhra, which was ravaged by the dreaded scourge, to personally supervise relief work.

Though I moved out of Chennai, my umbilical cord remains uncut. Whenever I visit Chennai, I go around the city to take a look at my old haunts. The statue of Munro is one of them.