SHORT ’N’ SNAPPY

Elections, the heritage way

Several years ago, when The Man from Madras Musings was new to this city, he depended a good deal on people like the Chief to show him the ropes. And the Chief’s idea of showing the ropes was to get MMM, then a mere mm (man in Madras), to become a -member of various organi-sations – a book club that has no premises or office-bearers but manages several interesting meetings in a year; a stately social club where you need to be somebody, one way or the other, to get in; and a national organisation that was into -protection of culture, arts, heritage and much else. And so it was that MMM paid up  and became a member and has remained a member ever since.

Of the first two organisa-tions MMM will not say much beyond stating that he enjoys his membership. Of the third he is not so sure for he does not have much to do with its -doings beyond reading a monthly magazine that is sent out and getting much mirth from the spelling mistakes that appear in it. The latest issue for instance speaks of a Gerald Velsli and it took quite a while for MMM to figure out that they meant Wellesley. Also there are words such as ‘conver-nor’ (a convenor who converts?) and ‘liquour’. Besides you must have heard of Athangidi tiles Chief. And what about a message to a new lady member that she must have a ‘productive association’ with other members?

Anyway, all that is besides the point. MMM may also be biased against this organisa-tion for he was the local convernor for a year and did not enjoy his tenure. Plenty of paper-pushing and a man in Delhi who kept asking for forms numbered in Roman numerals more or less blighted MMM’s convernorship. And so, MMM’s affection for this national body is but tepid. MMM’s assumes that this feeling is reciprocated in full measure by the body itself for MMM rather misguidedly led the body into a court case with rather unfortunate results. But every once in a while, the all-India members of this body spring to life. And that is when they elect office-bearers for the national governing council or whatever it is that heads the bureaucracy there. Emails, text messages, letters, phone calls (and these in the colourful accents of various regional variations of English – MMM has been referred to as yum yum yum, Emma Emma Emma, aim aim aim and many more) all of these are put to good use by the campaigners. All of them profess to be the true torchbearers of culture, heritage and what have you. As to what they do for the rest of the year, when they are not campaigning, MMM has no idea.

At best, from what MMM can see, these people, if elected, will get to attend a certain number of meetings in Delhi. They also get to have their photographs in the magazine referred to above. A casual perusal would give you the impression that these elected representatives did little other than hold up vinyl banners along with several others, walk around school buildings being kind to children and posturing in front of structures in various stages of ruin. They also do have a tendency to be seen in the company of district-level Government administrators, members of erstwhile royal families and sometimes, ministers. MMM also wonders as to what happens after many of the projects that are announced in the magazine are launched with much fanfare. Most appear to be photo-ops at best. The real work is done by the conver-nors at the local level and MMM supposes that that is what real passion is all about – not jockeying for some kind of office in Delhi.
In the light of the recent happenings in Chennai, MMM has taken to answering all calls from hopeful candidates with the statement that MMM’s vote is only for whoever sponsors MMM’s stay at a resort outside the city. So far he has had no takers.

Lighting of a lamp

These are days, when The Man from Madras Musings gets invited to all kinds of dos. This is also that time of the year when the cultural fever is at its height. It was previously a malaise that lasted for a month, but now it is fairly immune to medication of any kind and lasts a full three months. It is therefore no wonder that MMM is forever on the move, now speaking on culture, now being shawled, now shawling, now lighting lamps and now shaking hands. It is all rather extraordinarily like the life of a member of the British Royal Family, only in rather less exalted circumstances. In fact, any time, any of them needs a stand-in, MMM is willing to step in. He knows the routine by heart and he could do with a holiday in England. And in old Blighty there would be no requirement to light lamps either – MMM, ever since he has had to wear bifocals has become a little less adept in this task; finding the end of the wick has become quite a challenge, especially if there is a burning flame upfront.

And so it was last week that MMM was slated to give a talk at an event that was meant to promote our culture. After all the hype about it, the planning had been going on for over a year, MMM was rather -surprised to see a mere handful (one hand) of people at the inauguration. The programme had it that a lamp was to be lit following which there would be a ‘traditional’ music performance lasting twenty minutes. What transpired, however, was that the ‘traditional’ -musicians were already seated but there was no sign of the lamp. And so, the ‘traditional’ musicians were asked to sing traditionally and as it progres-sed, a rather large brass lamp made itself manifest and -diverse helpers (there were more helpers than audience anyway) began draping floral strands all over it. In all this activity, nobody bothered -telling the ‘traditional’ musicians as to when they had to stop and so they sang on -traditionally and overshot the time limit, which is also our tradition anyway. It was a good  half-an-hour before the lamp was decorated, five wicks  placed and oil poured into it.

The ‘traditional’ then cea-sed and five selected peo-ple – a sponsor, three orga-nisers and MMM were asked to step forward and light the lamp. Only there was no previously lit lamp/candle to light the large lamp with. A scramble ensued among the helpers for locating a lamp and after a stage wait it arrived. Then came the discovery that it did not have oil and so someone set off for it. This was duly procured and then someone pointed out that the lamp (the small one, not the large) did not have a wick. That necessitated another wait and then, you guessed, there was no matchbox. That took quite a while. In all this, the sponsor clearly lost his nerve and -began to babble freely about solar panels in which activity he apparently had made his fortune. The lamps were eventually lit, not amidst prayer or music but an animated discussion on silicon, wafers, panels and the usage of solar energy in sickness and in health.

The delay actually helped – when the programme began a half hour after scheduled time, there were enough people to count with fingers of both hands, and by people MMM means real attendees and not diverse helpers.

– MMM

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