Tipu

How does one view a South Indian monarch who stood up to the British? Is he really worthy of all the negative press he has been getting from the newly empowered echo-boxes of the right wing, especially over Twitter and Facebook? These are some the questions that crossed my mind while picking up Kate Brittlebank's book, "Tiger - The Life of Tipu Sultan".

As a Keralan, I have always had a dim view of this father-son duo who invaded Malabar and Kochi, and along the way, slaughtered, enslaved or forcibly converted the locals, apart from the legacy of one of the most odd place-names in the region - Sultan Bathery (Sultan's Battery). It also brought back memories of an odd sight I had seen in the dense forests of Talavadi, in the Western Ghats. A long line of huge Banyan trees marked the remnants of a highway built across the mountains, by Mysorean army to reach the port cities of Kerala. 

The book is a quick, easy read. Right at the outset, it sets the tone to readers' expectations by stating clearly that the focus is on the Tipu the person - a son, a father and a leader - rather than weighty matters related to state policy, military strategy and ethics. 

This works pretty well. For one thing, it confirms that Tipu Sultan's identity as a Muslim was hardly an issue within his own kingdom of Mysore. He lavished funds and patronage to the shrines of all religions - Hindu, Muslim and Jain - located in his territories. His own palace in Srirangapattana stood next to a Vishnu temple dedicated to Sri Ranganatha, and he referred to the head of the monastery at Sringeri Math as "Jagatguru".

Outside his realm, he played the usual policy of Divide and Rule. He allied with the Marathas of Pune and the Nizam of Hyderabad whenever it was convenient. At other times, he actively encouraged infighting within their territories. Tipu instructed his agents in Pune to trigger fights between Hindus and Muslims, to weaken the Marathas - "Let the fire of discord, therefore, be kindled amongst them, to the end that they may, in this manner, waste each other".

There is good reason for his enemies to hate him -- especially after what he did to the Nairs of Malabar, the Coorgis of Kodagu, and the Christians of Konkan. Yet, as the author notes, "Warfare at this time was brutal, and the punishment for those who resisted often cruel. It was common practice to set examples to forestall further opposition". It is certainly not different from military intimidation described today as "shock and awe".

In the end, Tipu does manage to come through as a fairly good ruler, until he put all his eggs in the French basket, and then, ran out of luck. 

Coorg: Land of Coffee, Cardamom and Cariappa

Date: 26-28 September 2007
Route: NH-48 - Mangalore-Bantwal; State Highways through Mani-Puttur-Suliya-Sampan-Madikeri


Mangalore has a small airport perched on the bulldozed hilltops of Bajpe. Just after spending four hours at Mumbai’s swanky new domestic terminal, this one looked very pedestrian - an entry, a large hall, two conveyor belts, two ‘tourist –taxi’ counters and the exit.

A prepaid taxi to Madikeri costs Rs. 2100. Rather steep for 165km but not if you consider the fact that few drivers want to risk their lives, limbs and axles on this road. It was a long, stomach-churning ride. We were told that it would take five hours but a few miles after Suliya we found a long traffic jam in a reserve forest area. A truck overloaded with timber had sunk into a pothole and a Mallu crew was busy trying to dig out the wheels and haul it out with another Tata 5-tonner. We waited for 45mts and then decided to squeak past the mess. When we finally reached Madikeri, it was past 10:30PM – we had been on the road for nearly eight hours!

Mahindra Kodagu Valley looked lovely at night. Pathways laid with neat stone slabs and recessed lights, smartly dressed bellboys, a beautiful naalukettu foyer, cheerful staff (mostly locals), a smooth check-in and a quiet ride in an electric golf-cart to Jujuba - our cottage overlooking the rain-soaked hills.

MKV was much larger than the Mahindra Club property at Binsar. Spread across 33 acres, this resort had eight cottage complexes (170 rooms) named after flowering trees (Phalsa, Masaul, Carandas, Barbadas, Amla, Jujuba, Kakum and Lakoocha). A recreation room perched atop a hill overlooked coffee and cardamom plantations, a swimming pool, an ayurvedic centre, a jogging pathway and an adventure-activity area. It had a good restaurant serving buffet breakfast (Rs.170/head), a shop selling coffee, snacks and mementos. The resort employed over 300 staff and claimed that it was fully booked for the season. If that was true, there would have been around 700 people around but it was so spread out and multi-tiered and that it never seemed crowded.

We spent the morning exploring the facilities – recreation room (TT, caroms, chess, artwork), the jogging path, the swimming pool and photographing large butterflies and dew-laden spider orb-webs. In the afternoon we went for some local sightseeing. An MKV bus (Rs.150 pax) took us on a well conducted tour to Abbey Falls, Gaddige mausoleum complex – a set of three Islamic style tombs, the Omkareshwar temple and, finally, to Raja’s Seat, a place from where the local rulers watched alleged traitors and criminals getting tossed off a cliff while enjoying the sunsets.

Back at MKV by 6:30PM, I spent some time browsing some coffee-table books on Kodagu history. The Coorgis fought wars for the Lingayat kings Muddu Raja (1680s) and Doddaveerappa (early 1700); got slaughtered for opposing Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan and found their salvation in an alliance with Robert Tayor (East India Co.) against Tipu in the Battle of Srirangapatnam (1799). Soon after Chikkaveera Raja’s death, the British annexed Coorg in 1834 and turned it into what we now know as the “Scotland of the East” and the “Land of Coffee, Cardamom and Cariappa”.

It was a strange story of a martial community that never had a king of their own. Their customs, traditions (ancestor worship, sacred groves), language and architecture point to strong links with the Nairs of Kerala. It seemed quite likely that they migrated upland from the nearest port cities of Cannanore and Telicherry in Kerala. Wonder if some conclusive research has gone into these links.

The town itself was unimpressive. You would have expected a town dominated by army veterans would have some semblance of a neat cantonment. Not so. It was sad to see statues of Field Marshal Cariappa and Gen. Thimmaya looking down sternly on another ramshackle urban sprawl.

We returned to Mangalore in an Indica. The vehicle from Machaiah Travels (092.433.93238) was a lot smoother and faster than the antiquated amby that had brought us to into the hills.