Crime, sex and sleaze, considered largely the domain of fiction, became hot topics of discussion in mainstream society with a string of controversies that garnered much media attention, last century

The Madras of the 1940s and 50s was a city largely enveloped in conservatism.

Her subjects followed tradition and rituals strictly, and a large number of them were swayed by Gandhi’s ‘ahimsa’ movement during the freedom struggle.

Crime, sex and sleaze were largely the domain of fiction. Novelists such as Aarani Kuppusamy Mudaliar and Vaduvur Duraisamy Iyengar had translated popular crime stories of London authors into Tamil.

Cinema too had just become popular. What follows is a compilation of the top scandals of old Madras, a little crime, some passion, some sleaze and much interest in the way things unfolded.

‘Once one has money and fame, the next thing one should expect is a scandal. And here is the scandal involving top heroes of the Tamil film industry…’

So screamed Hindu Nesan, a yellow magazine run as a tabloid by notorious journalist C.N. Lakshmikanthan.

Lakshmikanthan had initially studied law but discontinued that and tried his luck with journalism. He launched Cinema Thoothu, a film weekly, in 1943, which dissected the personal lives of stars of the Tamil film industry.

He would inform them well in advance that he was planning an expose on them and withdraw the piece if they paid money. Rattled stars often sent him money to stop the publication of the article.

Superstars of the time, M.K. Thyagaraja Bhagavathar and comedian N.S. Krishnan, and film director Sreeramulu Naidu, too, received threats from Lakshmikanthan, but they ignored him.

When articles about their personal lives were serialised, the celebrities approached Arthur Oswald James Hope, then Governor of Madras Presidency, and submitted a memorandum complaining about Cinema Thoothu.

Lakshmikanthan continued to run the magazine underground but later wound it up.

Unfazed, he then launched a new tabloid, Hindu Nesan, and continued to write scandalous stories on Bhagavathar, Krishnan and others.

On November 8, 1944, Lakshmikanthan visited his lawyer friend, Nargunam, at the latter’s residence in Vepery. After the meeting, he was going back home in a rickshaw when, on General Collins Road, two men intercepted the vehicle.

One of them was Vadivelu, a workman at a local daily, and the other was Nagalingam. The two asked the rickshaw puller to leave and then stabbed Lakshmikanthan.

Lakshmikanthan, who was profusely bleeding, ran to the nearby police station and lodged a complaint with the police, naming a few suspects. He died the next day.

Bhagavathar, Krishnan and director Naidu were arrested. Bhagavathar, it was alleged, used his influence to post a policeman on General Collins Road-Purasawalkam Road junction to keep away traffic, so the murder plot against Lakshmikanthan could be carried out. The policeman was named the eighth accused in the case.

While Naidu was acquitted, Bhagavathar and Krishnan were sent to jail. They appealed to the Privy Council but by the time the Council took up the case, the duo had spent thirty months in jail.

The case was referred back to the High Court and after seven years of imprisonment, they were released.

Sometime in August 1952, The Hindu carried a news item with the headline, ‘City Businessman Missing’.

The businessman was Alavandar, who ran a shop that sold plastic goods and sarees in a portion of the famous pen manufacturing firm, Gem & Co., run by M.C. Cunnan Chetty.

Alavandar was well-built and handsome, and during World War II, he worked as sub-divisional officer at the Avadi army headquarters.

After leaving the Army, he occupied a portion of Gem & Co. and started selling plastic products. He also began a saree business and sold sarees on an instalment basis, a concept new to Chennai then.

The business picked up and he earned many women customers, most of who fell for his charm. A married man, Alavandar was also known to be a drug addict.

When his women customers were unable to make payments, Alavandar forced them to have a relationship with him. Devaki, a well-educated girl who was involved in social service, befriended Alavandar when she went to his shop to buy sarees, and the two soon had an affair.

Devaki broke off the relationship after a while and got married to another man. A miffed Alavandar, however, continued to harass her and persuaded her to continue her relationship with him.

On August 28, 1952, Devaki and her husband, Prabhakar Menon, invited Alavandar to dinner at their house on Cemetery Road in Royapuram. Having plotted to kill him, the couple severed his head and buried it on Royapuram Beach.

They put his body in a trunk and placed it on the Indo-Ceylon boat mail that was on its way to Rameshwaram. After foul smell began emanating from the trunk, the body was discovered in it at Manamadurai station.

Meanwhile, Alavandar’s wife approached Cunnan Chetty for help and he lodged a ‘missing’ complaint with the police.

Soon, tidal waves exposed the buried head and it was handed over to the forensic department. Initially, they could not identify it, but Alavandar’s wife recognised her husband’s black tooth, confirming the identity.

Devaki and her husband were arrested in Bombay and later brought to Chennai. Large crowds gathered to see Devaki and the incident caused great sensation in the city.

Rani Padmini was a popular Malayalam actor who played big roles in ‘Parankimala’, ‘Sangarshanam’, ‘Sharam’, ‘Bandhanam’ and ‘Killikonchal’.

She wished to try her luck in Tamil films and came to Madras with her mother, Indirakumari, and rented a flat in Anna Nagar.

Although she did not make it big in Tamil, she got close with several high-profile politicians and film technicians. When big money started pouring in, Padmini decided to hire a driver, cook and watchman, and advertised for the same in a daily.

Lakshmi Narasimhan, known as Kutty, got the watchman’s job, while Jebaraj and Ganesan were employed as driver and cook, respectively.

Padmini became wealthier and decided to buy an independent house for which she kept aside Rs. 15 lakh, locked up at home. Driver Jebaraj hatched a plot to take away the money, and conspired with Kutty and Ganesan. He purchased knives for each of them.

On the morning of October 15, 1986, when Rani Padmini was taking bath, the three attacked Indirakumari and killed her. Hearing her mother’s screams, Rani Padmini rushed out of the bathroom but was overpowered by the three men and murdered.

The three were, however, arrested and sentenced to life terms. All the stolen articles were recovered.

Rani Padmini’s murder caused ripples all over Tamil Nadu and Kerala and it was alleged that the three men were arrested in order to protect a high-profile person who was in close contact with Rani Padmini.

Though they have all the ingredients of a great crime thriller, the trial and execution of Shanmughasundara Gramani, whose name evoked terror in the minds of people in Madras in the 30s, did not get as much media attention as the subsequent cases of C.N. Lakshmikanthan and Alavandar.

Gramani lived on Irusappa Gramani Street in Triplicane and ran a toddy shop in the 1930s. People dreaded the very thought of walking through the street in the evenings.

‘A big made man, thin in culture and sophistication, and thick in purse, pride and ego. He had the reputation of a rowdy, one who loved to throw about his weight which was considerable,’ was how historian Randor Guy described Gramani, who was tried for the murder of his domestic help, Narasamma.

Hailing from Nellore, the attractive Narasamma came to Chennai in search of a livelihood and worked for Gramani.

Writing about the case, Mr. Guy said Gramani hit Narasamma with burning firewood following an argument over making hot water for his bath. With the help of his men, he hung Narasamma from the rafter by her hair, and beat her to death. The incident took place in 1938.

P. Janardhan Rao, deputy commissioner of the city, in charge of crime, investigated the case. Gramani was picked up for interrogation. “That was the last time Gramani left his house alive,” said Mr. Guy.

When sentenced to death, Gramani submitted a mercy petition to the governor, alleging public opinion had been influenced by the publication of several pamphlets depicting him as the most inhuman and cruel person on earth. His petition was rejected and he was hanged in July 1940.