As Stephen P. Hughes points out, the location of tram lines determined where public entertainment venues were built, resulting in the cinema map of Madras. Photo courtesy of The Hindu Archives
The Madras Electric Tramway Company is one of those “what ifs” that always come up when the city’s public transport infrastructure is discussed: what would have happened if, like Kolkata, the tramways had continued to operate? Yet the Met was almost doomed from the start and, like a Greek tragedy, continued to move inexorably in that direction until that fateful day in April 1953. From the start, it was marred by conflict between the bureaucracy and private ownership of the tramways.
Nevertheless, when it was first planned, it was hailed as a boon to the city. Details of the planning stages remain in The Hindu’s archives; the paper first reported on the service on March 30, 1885. The city commissioners had given the Madras Tramway Company permission to operate tramways within the city limits. Founded in London with capital of £185,000, the company planned to lay steel rails and run an 18-mile horse-drawn tramway line through the city. The company suggested that steam power would be more economical, but the commissioners opposed, marking the first clash and forcing the company to rely on horses.
There were major delays in laying the track, mainly because the civil authorities had cordoned off all the main roads. The MTC wanted to lay tram tracks before Beach Road and Fort St. George, but neither were approved and the track had to be laid through various by-roads. Four years later, the project was still in the planning stage and in 1889 the “Madras Tramway Order, to take immediate effect” was published, detailing six lines around George Town, Purasawalkam, Mount Road, Chintadripet and Royapettah. The local civil authorities reserved the right to fix fares, not to exceed 0.5 annas per mile for second class and 1 anna for first class.
However, by this time, the Corporation’s commissioners seemed to have changed their mind about the means of transport. Perhaps they were reflecting on the utter failure of the city’s horse-drawn tramway system that existed in the 1870s. Hence, “mechanical or other powered means” were permitted. The Madras Electric Tramway Company was established in 1892 as the first such company in India, and after many trials and tribulations, including changes of ownership, by 1904 it had stabilised as the Madras Electric Tramway Company (MET), which, as the name suggests, was electrically powered. Initially it was run by underground cables and later by pantographs.
There was great civic pride in the streetcars, which were celebrated in prose and poetry, but more importantly, as Stephen P. Hughes points out, they dictated the location of public entertainment venues, thus creating the cinema map of Madras.
But not all was well. In 1917, the Metropolitan Railway’s Chief Engineer, JF Jones, testifying before the Industrial Committee, said that “Madras would by this time have had an improved system of tramway service but for the intransigence of the Madras Government.” It was a lengthy statement, backed up by an editorial in The Hindu, the gist of which was the lack of permission to operate on main roads and strict control over fares.
The Met regularly invested in rail vehicles using all the means available to them, but things were becoming increasingly tough. In the 1920s the city was a hotbed of labour activism, and one such strike led the Met to introduce buses into the city. When the strike was called off the buses were withdrawn, but private bus operators realised the potential of buses and they have been here ever since.
By 1952, with only three more years left on the Met contract, discussions began to focus on its viability. In addition, a state-run bus service was also being implemented. The tramways were clearly heading for decline. Facing rising costs and corresponding increases in fares, the tramways were losing Rs 50,000 per month. On 12 April 1953, it was announced that the company was bankrupt. Trade unions howled and there were many protests, but economic rationality ultimately prevailed. Twenty years later, M. Karunanidhi would make a statement in Parliament that public transport should be seen as a service and losses had to be borne by the government. But in 1953, Rajaji and his cabinet did not see the tramways that way.
In response, the government introduced increased bus services, which gave birth to routes like 4B and 21C that have become legends in themselves. Around 1,650 workers lost their jobs. The Poonamallee tram depot changed hands, partly as Periyar Thidal and partly as Dina Tanti offices. The Royapettah tram depot, masterfully designed by RF Chisholm, remained as TNEB offices and warehouses until a decade ago, when it was demolished.
But the tram itself lives on in dreams and faded photographs.