Neither English Nor Thamizh is Helpful in Reading the Name of a Street

I have made Srirangam my town of residence in my retired life. This town comes under the municipal corporation of the city of Tiruchirappalli, in the central region of the state of Tamil Nadu (as officially accepted; but I rebel – Thamizh Nadu). The town is anchored by Lord Sriranganathan. There are supposed to be seven circumambulatory pathways, with only four of them within the boundary walls. Beyond that the roads are almost continuous around the temple but features of civilian life abound more. The land value on these corridors must be sky high. Why so, I haven’t a clue.

It is on one of the outer circumambulation streets, I came across street name boards on either side of the street, at the middle of the stretch of a street, about half kilometre long. That in itself is strange – normally, the street names are indicated at the ends of a street. In this case one had to walk half the length of the street before it can be identified – yet, there are stranger things on this road.

The signboard is on the western edge of the road (beyond the unmarked pedestrian pathway; maybe I am demanding too much) that runs North-South.

Let that be. Its ownership/maintenance is prominently displayed (in Thamizh) as the corporation of the city of Tiruchirappalli. The signboard is double arrowed, each pointed towards the opposite of the other, which must confirm what I wrote earlier.

Now, let us see the situation across the street, on the eastern edge of the same North-South street. Pay special attention to the first word of each of the four lines of the signboard naming the street.

The top line in each is in Thamizh. Even an illiterate in Tamizh would notice that the first word carries two letters, whereas it is four letters long, from the same alphabet, in the second photo. Of course, the rest of the lettering is the same in both, we may infer that the two words mean the same thing.

That is கீழெ, means கிழக்கு. கீழெ also means “below”, but in the context we can safely ignore that meaning. Now, looking at the Thamizh markings on both the boards you have figured out that both the name boards are objectively the same.

Now, we come to the English line on the sign boards. You cannot match the first words of the second lines of the two words. “Keela” cannot be found in any Englishà Tamizh or Thamizh à  English dictionary. YOU CANNOT. No tourist can make any sense of the name board if she had only an English à Thamizh dictionary; so sad.

In Tamizh கீழெ means East(ern). Therefore, on both the boards, the English name of the street should be the same – “Chithira Veedhi East”. The change from “thi” to “dhi” differentiates the “th” and the “dhi” sound in Thamizh. On both the boards, the name of the street should sound as close to each other possible “கிழக்கு சித்திரை வீதி” and in English, it should be, “East Chitthirai Veedhi” or “Chitthirai Veedhi East”.

The photo below is on the circumambulatory street but one level closer to the sacred enclosure but exactly on the other side of the temple yards. The Thamizh name is given as மேல உத்திர வீதி, wherein மேல indicates the western side, or “upwards”.

Here again, the Thamizh word that should have been used is மேற்க்கு, instead of மேல. The municipal and/or temple authorities for the sake of making directions meaningful should use not the local lingo but the true conversational forms of the impugned words.

The English name would translate into English as மேல உதிர வீதி, whereas it should have been painted “West Utthira Veedhi” or “Utthira Veedhi West”.

Pointing out the delicate nature of the language my mother tongue, makes me happy. My father did not like Thamizh, just normal for a Brahmin brought up in Mandaiveli in the then Madras. I just wish he had just a bit more respect for the language that is in use in the locality he was born and raised. C’est la vie.

By the way, I learned all of the above on my own, self-congratulations, of course, yet well deserved.

Raghuram Ekambaram