Chennai Day – Artifex.News https://artifex.news Stay Connected. Stay Informed. Tue, 01 Sep 2026 06:07:00 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.1.2 https://artifex.news/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/cropped-cropped-app-logo-32x32.png Chennai Day – Artifex.News https://artifex.news 32 32 Madras, a city that has always expanded its language to welcome words into its fold https://artifex.news/article71393097-ecerand29/ Tue, 01 Sep 2026 06:07:00 +0000 https://artifex.news/article71393097-ecerand29/ Read More “Madras, a city that has always expanded its language to welcome words into its fold” »

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If you go down the rabbit hole of how words travel from one language to another, you just have to listen to this dialect of Tamil that is Madras bashai. It is built around loanwords as Chennai is formed not just of Tamil speakers; Telugu, Urdu, Hindi, Kannada, Sanskrit, English, and Dutch have all found their way into the Madras bashai, a dialect shaped by the many communities that called Madras home.

When Tamil absorbed the Urdu word ghaliz, it became galeej in the city’s lingo. Historian V. Sriram traces its origin to the time of the Nawab of Arcot or the Golconda Sultanate’s arrival at Santhome. Just like galeej, the quintessential Madras word for money, duttu, is believed to have evolved from the Dutch’s duit, a small coin used in the colonial era. Then there is mabbu, bejar, assault, and a whole roster of words that make up the medley called Madras bashai.

“This is not something unique to our city. It is a part of every city’s evolution as multiple people come and leave their own impress,” says Mr. Sriram. And naturally, languages don’t sit still. “Machan and machi as a colloquial term would not have existed a century ago, though machan as a proper relationship did. This kind of addition will continue to happen. But what is interesting is we have this ancient Tamil word, poromboke, find acceptance in Madras bashai because it, perhaps, best sums up the situation in which it could be used,” he adds, also observing that Madras bashai will never become Chennai bashai because nobody wants to take ownership of it. Needless to say, it is the language of the city itself, where Triplicane, George Town, Royapuram, and Perambur have all contributed to its evolution.

When Kollywood’s big crossover came, the dialect travelled to Tamil-speaking audiences far and wide, with many actors, including Kamal Haasan, popularising the word gaandu through the film Pammal K. Sambandam, scripted by Crazy Mohan.

A consultant who lived in Chennai for 13 years, Saradhambal, says she was introduced to Madras bashai through actor Manorama’s dialogues in old Tamil films. “Being raised in Coimbatore, I have heard this kind of Tamil only in old films. Something like “Naastha thuntiya paapa” is so quirky. When I think of this dialect, Manorama Aachi comes to mind immediately,” she says.

Lyricists from the younger generation such as Vyasarpadi-based Rokesh took the dialect to the masses with Danga Maari from Anegan, which leans heavily into slang. Speaking of films, the dialect has found yet another cultural outlet in Gaana, a genre known far beyond Chennai. Rooted in Madras baashai, it tells the stories of working-class communities, particularly of North Chennai.

Beyond this specific dialect, the everyday slang of Chennai’s colleges has a life of its own, with every generation having their own little linguistic starter pack. A generation before millennials had their kadi, enthu cutlet, chappa matter, and peter. Then came the millennials, who grew up during the transition from analogue to digital worlds, bringing lol, cool beans, yolo, and dude into everyday conversation, influenced by pop culture and internet spaces. With Gen Z, much of their slang is influenced by the urban English-speaking internet. Delusion became delulu, suspicious became sus, and there is brainrot, rizz, yapping, to name just a few. What sounded effortlessly cool to millennials can sound ancient to Gen alpha.

For 21-year-old graduates Raghav and Sukesh, slang is also a kind of a code, a way of making sure the people in the room are in on the joke. “We use words like ‘fanum tax’, which is about how we are entitled to take a little bit of our friend’s food. They are now part of our everyday vocab,” they say.

However, Gen alpha has a different rulebook that is likely to leave everyone else scratching their heads. Nine-year-old Prakrithi S. says she knows some Gen Z lingo but uses only words picked up from the online communities of her generation. At school, skibidi, gyatt, and even digits like 6-7 have become part of the vocabulary. “When our teacher asked us to read the sixth and seventh sloka at school, some of us were secretly moving our hands up and down, indicating the digits. It is just about a meme online that doesn’t mean anything, but it makes us happy, like an inside joke,” she shares.

Nekhaa N., a linguistics Master’s graduate from the University of Manchester, explains how the slang, though short-lived, keeps evolving. “The perception of language changes as generation changes, and that changes the way we use words,” she says, adding that slang comes from what we are surrounded by and is a product of exposure. Perhaps this is where the parallel lies. Just as Tamil absorbed words from the many languages it encountered and made them its own in Madras bashai, today’s youth pick up slang from the unhinged, overwhelming digital spaces they inhabit.

Published – August 27, 2026 11:37 pm IST



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Chennai’s Anand Theatre was the ‘OG’ for the city’s old film-buffs https://artifex.news/article71385284-ecerand29/ Fri, 28 Aug 2026 02:15:00 +0000 https://artifex.news/article71385284-ecerand29/ Read More “Chennai’s Anand Theatre was the ‘OG’ for the city’s old film-buffs” »

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In the year of 1964, the Madras State saw two 70mm theatres in fairly close succession, but the one to stake its claim as “the first 70mm theatre of South India” was Anand theatre. It was built on Mount Road by G. Umapathy who ran Uma Printers. On August 22, 1964, this modern theatre was inaugurated by former Chief Minister K. Kamaraj, the president of the Congress party at the time.

About two days later, its inaugural film, the historical drama El Cid premiered and drew many notable personalities, including M. Bhaktavatsalam, then Chief Minister of the Madras State. For many of the film buffs of Chennai, Anand was more of a ritual where they went to watch English films.

A dermatologist and resident of Chennai, Arjun Mathuranayagam, remembers being taken there by his parents, who were “the biggest film buffs”, particularly through the 60s, 70s, and 80s. “Anand holds the record for the longest unbroken run by any English movie in Madras History — Bruce Lee’s Enter the Dragon — at 54 weeks,” says Dr. Mathuranayagam. He also clearly remembers the theatre as much as the films he watched there. “The screen was massive and deeply curved so as to completely cover a 70mm Super Panavision projection in all its glory,” he adds, pointing out how nothing comes quite close to Anand today.

Subsequently, Little Anand theatre was built in the same complex, where Tamil films such as Vennira Aadai had a long and successful run. Retired Chennai resident Rajamani Rajkumar has fond memories of the theatre. He says the proximity of Anand and Little Anand allowed audiences at Anand to sometimes faintly hear the dialogues from the film playing next door. “I grew up in Mylapore, and used to reach Anand in less than 15 minutes in the 70s with no traffic. I remember watching so many English films, which were all brought to India two years after their release abroad,” says Mr. Rajkumar.

Even as a child, Mr. Rajkumar remembers watching films such as Arabesque, a spy comedy thriller at Anand. It was the 2001: Space Odyssey that stayed with him. “After watching the film, my father took me to meet theatre owner G. Umapathy, and I had some cool drinks at his office,” reminisces Mr. Rajkumar. “There were snacks sold at the theatre, but some also went to McRennett nearby before heading for the film. During the 60s and 70s, people watched the films at Anand with so much discipline,” he adds.

The crowd eventually thinned by the 1990s, and in the early 2000s, Anand felt the tides turning. A Behindwoods report in 2006 quoted a spokesperson from Anand theatre as saying that movie piracy had significantly affected the theatre’s profits and all screenings were stopped permanently. That is how the theatre was eventually removed from Mound Road. But landmarks do not disappear that easily. The Anand theatre may no longer stand there physically, but its name still lives on at the Anand theatre bus stop, and in little fragments in the minds of the city’s old film buffs.



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While Madras went to bed early, Chennai stays up https://artifex.news/article71376518-ecerand29/ Mon, 24 Aug 2026 09:27:00 +0000 https://artifex.news/article71376518-ecerand29/ Read More “While Madras went to bed early, Chennai stays up” »

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Decades ago, Madras was a city that believed about 9 p.m. was bedtime. After sunset, shutters came down, streets emptied, and roads fell into almost complete silence, with barely a vehicle in sight.

Chennai’s two prominent railway stations, Central and Egmore, were among the few places that remained active at night largely because of the steady flow of passengers.

The city began changing in the 1980s, when pubs slowly emerged, followed by the Information Technology (IT) and Business Process Outsourcing (BPO) boom and a growing night-shift workforce in the late 90s. Slowly, the night became an economy of its own, acquiring the character of sleepless cities across the world. Tea shops stayed open, eateries followed tech corridors, and businesses discovered a new customer as work hours changed — the night owl. The Madras that once went to bed early, forgot how to sleep after it became Chennai.

“In the 80s and 90s, nightlife saw more activity than the city was used to, with a few hotels having discos. A few of us who hung out together, resorted to disco hopping [a precursor to the pub hopping of today]. The Adyar Park Hotel had the vibrant Gatsby, a disco-cum-nightclub. Similar to this was Pasha at The Park. Suffice to say, the discos were always packed with youth of those days showing off their John Travolta moves,” said Nikhil Raghavan, a resident of Shenoy Nagar who writes about nightlife in the city.

“Much later, HFO (Hell Freezes Over) at Hotel Aruna on Sterling Road became a hot night spot. I visited this place so many times and remember running into Kamal Haasan who was shooting some film scenes,” he recalled. “After a late-night film or a disco, it was mandatory to head to Buharis on Mount Road, which was open till beyond midnight. Tasty mutton samosas or bread butter jam with hot tea was the best way to stay awake at that time,” he added.

Hotels such as the Taj Connemara played an important role in the social fabric of upper-class Madras, offering some of the few spaces where people could meet and unwind beyond the routines of the day. “While it may not have had a “nightlife” culture in the way Chennai understands the term today, the bar was certainly a lively social spot for its time, with evenings extending into the night depending on the prevailing regulations and social norms,” said Shilpa Rameja, General Manager, Taj Connemara.

The late 1990s marked a turning point in Chennai’s night life, as IT firms spread across the city. The Old Mahabalipuram Road and places near Tidel Park saw new buildings crop up. Construction work continued through the night. Initially, the familiar chai wallahs on bicycles would pedal through the night, delivering tea and coffee to those working late. Soon, small eateries mushroomed around IT corridors, followed by hotels and 24/7 cafeterias within IT parks. “Those days, IT and BPO companies offered Sodexo vouchers, which were accepted at eateries across the city. This gave techies the freedom to spend during night hours. Then, in the early 2000’s, many IT firms opened gyms where employees could work out at night,” said S. Sooriya, who has been a techie for three decades now.

In the early 2000s, when migration to the city grew, its beaches began coming alive after sunset. While the Marina drew thousands of families, Besant Nagar Beach became a popular haunt for couples and youngsters. Youngsters began the nights with a walk on the beach. Turtle walkers gather at Neelankarai Beach late at night and walk along the shore until dawn, often spotting Olive Ridleys swimming ashore to lay eggs. The eggs are carefully collected and taken to hatcheries. People visited them even in the 80s and 90s, but commuting was a challenge then. “From the 2000s, as more households began owning vehicles, traveling became easier,” said Mahalakshmi Ramalingam, a long-time resident.

From the late 2000s, food became one of the biggest drivers of Chennai’s late-night culture. Food streets and night-time eateries mushroomed and biryani became the most sought-after food post-sunset. The city today has several biryani brands that sell only at nights, with thousands queuing up to grab a plate. One can get a plate of biriyani even at 3 a.m. now.

Anna Nagar, once primarily residential, now sees crowds and activity well into the night. P. Kruthivas, president-elect, CREDAI Chennai and Managing Director, Pushkar Properties, attributed its growing popularity to improved Metro connectivity. “Every suburb has become a micro-market because of last-mile connectivity.” The Kora Food Street in Anna Nagar draws over 5,000 visitors a day, with footfall surging by 20% to 30% over the weekends.

Another night hot spot is Uptown, Kathipara Urban Square, which attracts more than 10,000 visitors every day and over 30,000 visitors during weekends. Charan Boya, Executive Director at BNR Estates, which operates Kathipara Urban Square, said: “Chennai has had a reputation as an ‘early city’ compared to Bangalore or Mumbai, and I think that’s changing… not because people suddenly want a club scene, but because there is finally the infrastructure to make staying out past 11 p.m. feel normal and safe: lighting, parking, security, and Metro connectivity.”

“What’s growing here is a food and family-oriented night culture rather than an alcohol-led one, and I’d frame that as a genuine strength for the city rather than something to measure against other metros. Our focus is on building a night economy around good food, safe public space, and somewhere for shift workers, students, and families to be after dark,” he added.

The Anna Salai stretch has a different nightlife story with older restaurants such as Buhari and Mount Road Bilal, along with a range of newer, smaller eateries and joints, keeping the city’s appetite alive with all kinds of cuisines. Customers even travel 10 km to 15 km to have a bite.

From OMR and Ambattur to ECR and K.K. Nagar, Chennai’s nights are creating a new economy along the way. Late-night hot spots are opening up employment opportunities for youngsters, with students and women turning pushcarts, cars, and pop-up stalls into tiny businesses, selling everything from homemade products and artwork to jewellery. Anna Nagar alone has more than 200 such roadside setups, often operating from nothing more than a small table.

Entrepreneurs and established enterprises too, rush in to serve the night-time crowds. Sports businesses are extending their hours, with late-night turfs, pickleball, and padel courts keeping the city active even after 10 p.m. Even gyms are joining the movement, keeping their doors open the entire night.

Meanwhile, the police are stepping up their presence after dark, deploying additional personnel, and keeping a closer watch to ensure that the city stays safe as it stays awake. Chennai has discovered the night and has no plans to sleep in future.



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