The lost mansions of Chettinad: festival showcases opulent homes turned heritage hotels

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The single-stone granite pillars and Burmese teak beams of Chettinad’s heritage hotels are adorned with strands of marigolds, while the verandas and corridors are hung with small, handmade palm-leaf parrots that sway gracefully among fragrant blooms. Six-metre-long banners made of Chettinad cotton sarees proclaim “The Chettinad Heritage and Cultural festival”.

At first glance, it is hard to believe that these grand mansions turned heritage hotels were ever neglected. Built by the illustrious Chettiar merchant community from the middle of the 19th century to the 1950s, they spread across the south Indian state of Tamil Nadu, eventually dwindling to the 73 villages and two towns that remain today across 1,550 sq km (600 sq miles).

Chains of flowers hang from the ceiling of a hotel

“Economically, there was no growth in Chettinad for half a century. So how do we save such heritage?” asks Yacob Thomas George, the festival’s coordinator and manager of the Bangala hotel. “The only way is tourism. I was inspired by the Kochi-Muziris Biennale [India’s largest art exhibition] and thought a cultural festival could do for Chettinad what it did for Kochi.”

The annual four-day festival, held every September for the past three years, generates about 2m rupees (£18,500) a day for the local economy and has seen the number of trained local guides triple to 12. Two historic mansions – Palaniappa Vilas and Lakshmi Vilas – have been restored. Another has opened its doors to visitors, while some have been converted into hotels. Domestic tourism has grown by 8%, according to the festival organisers, boosting trade for local artisans, including Chettinad saree weavers and Athangudi tile makers.

According to legend, the Chettiars were driven from coastal areas many centuries ago to an inland region several hundred kilometres from Chennai, the capital of Tamil Nadu. The new land offered only thorny scrub and blistering heat so with the terrain ill-suited for agriculture they turned to trade.

An outdoor swimming pool with shaded verandas on two sides

By the 18th century they had become master traders and financiers, aiding princely state rulers and later becoming indispensable to British colonial administrators. As the British colonies stretched across Asia in the 19th century, the Chettiars followed, sailing to Burma (Myanmar), Malaya (Malaysia), Ceylon (Sri Lanka) and Singapore – overcoming deep-seated Indian taboos against sea voyages. Their ventures abroad yielded immense wealth, which they sent back to Chettinad. Ships laden with Burmese teak, Italian marble and English tiles docked at Nagapattinam port, from where they were carried by bullock carts over dusty plains to transform Chettinad.

By the mid-19th century, traditional Chettiar homes had begun a slow metamorphosis into extravagant mansions, reaching their artistic grandeur in the early 20th century with elements of art nouveau and art deco. Rows of these mansions rose in grid-like patterns, forming villages. Each mansion stretched 75 to 115 metres in length, occupying rectangular plots that ran from one street to another. They were designed to house extended families under a single roof, stitched together by tradition.

Twelve tiles with pink flower designs inlaid in a dark wood surround

A line of gold carved dragons along a cornice on a turquoise wall

A carved teak door in a wall decorated with patterned tiles

A arched window of stained glass looking out to an entrance gate

The design of the mansions adhered to a linear progressive style from public to private spaces. The entrance gate and raised veranda served as places for men to conduct business and receive guests. Beyond, a central open courtyard formed the heart of the home, hosting rituals and family gatherings. Surrounding the courtyard were living spaces and bedrooms, while deeper inside lay the dining halls, kitchens and secluded courtyards reserved for women.

Though the layout remained uniform, no two mansions were alike. Each was a testament to the family’s wealth, showcasing local craftsmanship fused with global designs: intricately carved teak and rosewood doorways; ceilings decorated with European floral vines and cherubim juxtaposed with Tamil deities; floors laid with Italian marble tiles; while adornments included Belgian mirrors, French stained glass and English cast-iron railings.

An older Indian woman wearing a peach-coloured sari sitting in a hall set up with rows of chairs

Time has rarely been kind to legacies and the Chettiars’ story is no exception. As the 20th century unfolded, global wars disrupted trade routes, colonial empires crumbled and the Chettiars’ fortunes faded. Unable to sustain their sprawling mansions, many families sold parts of their homes to antique markets or left them with caretakers, returning only for weddings, births, funerals and other rituals that kept their connection to Chettinad alive.

What was once a thriving network of approximately 96 villages has now dwindled to 73, with 19% of its heritage structures lost, but with more than 10,000 mansions left standing, many of which have fallen into disrepair and been abandoned. Once, all of the Chettiars were entrepreneurs, but by the 21st century only 20% remained in business ventures. Most of the population migrated to the city or moved to wealthier countries, trading the entrepreneurship of their ancestors for the stability of salaried jobs in modern professions.

Chettinad’s story as a tourist destination can be traced to the unwavering resolve of Meenakshi Meyyappan, a woman affectionately known as Aachi. In 1999, she transformed her husband’s ancestral property, Senkai Bangala – once an elite gentlemen’s club – into the Bangala, the first hotel in Chettinad. With unwavering support from her sister-in-law, Visalakshi Ramaswamy, Aachi took on the mammoth task of restoring the property from its dilapidated state.

“Most of the family members were neutral to the idea. But I remember someone asking, ‘Why are we, as a family, running a lodge?’,” Aachi, who is now 90, recalls with a chuckle. “When I think about it now, it was a very feministic move to be a hostess. I had no background in hospitality.

“Chettinad had no image as a tourist destination, and nobody here knew where to begin,” she adds, sitting at MSMM House, her husband’s ancestral mansion, just 1.2km from The Bangala, where she stays during her visits to Chettinad. “But I knew how people should be treated and how to curate a menu,” says Aachi, a proud Chettiar, known for their inherent sense of hospitality.

People gather around artisan cloths and other items displayed on tables in a hall

In 2014, Chettinad was added to Unesco’s tentative heritage list. “But we chose not to pursue formal recognition,” says Yacob. “Heritage site status would make renovations and adaptations challenging. We needed a plan that will not only preserve the buildings but will bring economic development to the local community.”

“Yacob has done a magnificent job coming up with the festival idea,” says Aachi. She fully backed his vision by forming the Chettinad Heritage and Cultural Trust, independent of The Bangala, and bringing together four other Chettiars who were equally passionate about preserving Chettinad’s heritage, and were financially stable enough to ensure the initiative would not be misused.

The festival is a collaborative effort, uniting Chettinad’s heritage hotels – Visalam, Chettinad Mansion, Chidambara Vilas, The Lotus Palace and The Bangala – and the local community. “Where else would you find five competitors coming together to promote a destination?” says Sam John, manager of Visalam, a 100-year-old art deco mansion operated by CGH Earth as a heritage hotel.

The most recent festival began with a ceremonial lamp-lighting, and featured concerts, talks, a fashion show, guided tours of mansions, temples and historical landmarks, and curated dinners at the hotels, all aimed at celebrating and preserving the region’s cultural heritage.

The central courtyard of one of the mansions in Chettinad.

“We used to rely on international tourists through travel agents but after Covid domestic travellers started showing up. That’s when Yacob pitched the idea of the festival, and we immediately got on board,” says Senthil Kumar, manager of Chidambara Vilas.

“Each property has its own event style for the festival, but branding remains consistent,” adds Sam. “The event is now entirely community-driven, with locals managing furniture, flowers, lighting, sound, catering and everything else.”

Local businesses have also benefited. “Festival time is my busiest season,” says Kishore, who coordinates guest transportation, often bringing in extra cars from nearby villages for airport runs.

Meenakshi, a local guide, says: “I started as a guide when Aachi launched The Bangala. Back then, I relied on hotels for clients, but now I work as a freelancer. The biggest change is the increase in domestic tourists.”

For now, the festival is a testament to the power of community-driven efforts. Yacob says: “What worries me most is the compromises we might be forced to make to accommodate government VIP guests if they get involved.” But, he concludes with quiet optimism: “We believe we are on the right path.”