BackDéjà View | Neighbourhood narratives
Pop-over to a local museum or archive. Who knows what you may discover about yourself, your town, your country?
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Dear readers, did you miss me? No? I have been away for two weeks, you know. For two weeks, without any warning whatsoever, Déjà View has been away on annual vacation. And how many emails did I get from concerned readers? Not even one.
Sigh. In fact, I spent most of the last fortnight in Thrissur with family, gaining weight.
But amidst a somewhat hectic timetable of lunching on fish, socializing, and drinking endless cups of sweet tea, I took aside an hour-and-a-half to visit the Archaeological Museum in Thrissur.
This museum, housed inside the Shakthan Thampuran Palace, is one of those minor town landmarks dotted all over the world that many residents have heard of, but few people have actually visited. Ask for directions to a particular hotel or temple, and locals will tell you to take a left at the museum, a right past the monument, take a U-turn at the library…
But ask them about the museum, monument or library itself and much too often you get a blank look followed by one of two mumbled confessions:
Confession no. 1. “Oh…hmm… I’ve never actually been inside…but I believe it is very good…"
Confession no. 2. “Oh yes, yes. I went there once when I was in school…"
To be fair, often this lack of popularity is not unjustified. Nothing crushes the spirit of the enthusiastic history buff like visiting a decrepit local museum full of rotting exhibits and terrible signage. On the verge of an enraged, red-eared panic attack, you ask the museum staff some questions, only to be told that “bahut, bahut purana hai madam" and “photo ke liye separate ticket lijiye please".
The Shakthan Tampuran Palace and museum was nothing like that. Of course, there was hardly anybody else there. Throughout my 90-minute visit, I only spotted half a dozen other visitors.
But everything else about the museum was quite enjoyable. First of all, the building and the grounds were in good shape. A staff member told me that the state government had just spent more than ₹ 1 crore repairing the roofs and walls of the museum. It shows.
Mind you, this is a very austere palace in Mughal, Mysore or even Ponty Chadha terms. In fact, I am pretty certain that there are private homes in Thrissur today that boast greater square-footage and larger grounds. But then the royals of Cochin were never really the most glamorous of India’s many rajas.
The exhibits themselves—ranging from royal paraphernalia to coins and stone-age tools—suffer from some thematic ambiguity. It is not immediately clear that these are, in fact, not all from the Thrissur area. Instead, they are a selection from all across the state. But once this is accounted for, the objects in the various rooms are really quite enjoyable.
But the greatest revelation on my trip was the quality and knowledge of the museum staff. In almost every gallery, I found at least one staffer who was bursting with information and insight. “Not many people ask us questions," one gentleman in the erstwhile royal kitchens told me. “But when they start they don’t stop. There is so much to talk about."
A chat with this gentlemen revealed several details of Kerala’s history that I had no idea about. For instance, he told me about the ancient Jain and Buddhist communities of Kerala. Kallil Temple near Kalady, he told me, was a Jain rock temple that once housed the deities Vardhamaana Mahavir , Paarshwanadhan and Padmavathi devi. Who knew!
The highlight of my trip was the megalithic gallery. The woman who watched over this room graciously walked me through every display case in the room. “Usually only schoolchildren come here," she said, explaining her enthusiasm.
It is from her that I heard of the Eyyal horde, a major archeological discovery made by a farmer while ploughing his field of banana plants in the 1940s at Eyyal, a village in Thrissur. The highlight of this treasure trove was a collection of Roman coins that prove ancient Kerala’s trade links with the West.
Later, as I walked out of the compound, my head buzzing with all these micro-epiphanies, the man at the gate stopped me. “Don’t forget to look at Tipu Sultan’s flagpole," he shouted out, pointing at a small set of concrete stairs that led up to a long wooden pole set into pedestal. So I did. How Tipu and his flagpole got there is a matter for future columns.
How many such wondrous little museums exist all over India? And how many of them are staffed with genuinely helpful people just aching for curious visitors?
So this is my challenge to all my dear readers: this weekend why not pop-over to a local museum or archive? From Alwar to Nagercoil and from Patan to Itanagar. Forget about how big and shiny and glamorous it is. Or how well stocked and well staffed. Why not just pop in, ask a few questions and see if you find anything interesting? Who knows what you may discover about yourself, your town and your country?
Whatever you do discover, send me email. I am tingling with anticipation.
Every week, Déjà View scours historical research and archives to make sense of current news and affairs.
Comment at views@livemint.com. To read Sidin Vadukut’s previous columns, go to www.livemint.com/dejaview
Follow Mint Opinion on Twitter at https://twitter.com/Mint_Opinion-
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