Short ‘N’ Snappy

Madras Week – from Valsaravakkam to the Vatican

And so, Chief, here we are at the end of Madras Week 2016. And what a week it has been. And what a range of events – from talks on temples in Vietnam to books on science fiction, all launched in the name of Madras Week. Never before has any event so united such a diverse collection of people under one banner. As for the walks, Chief – what a number and what variety – street walks (sorry Chief, what you think MMM means is not what MMM means), food walks, tree walks, insect walks, saree walks, fort walks, port walks, temple walks, walk walks. And then you had these combo walks – saree and temple walks, talks and walks, walks and talks, only walks, only talks, talks on walks, walks on talks … MMM simply lost count after the first ten or so. So did the people who spoke, got spoken to, talked, walked and gawked. To MMM, it was almost a December Music Season redux with almost as much debate over quality versus quantity.

Just like the December Music Festival, Madras Week gets its share of media attention, with reporters stalking event after events. And their thirst for information was phenomenal. When was Madras founded? Who was the Mughal Emperor who built the palace that became the GPO? Where were the stables at Kodambak­kam that gave it the name Ghoda Baugh? Was it not cruel of the British to build a moat just to keep Indians out of Fort St George? Who was Mr Cenotaph after whom Ceno­taph Road is named? Such wonderful queries, Chief.

We also had apart from walkers, talkers, gawkers and stalkers, some mockers as well. This year saw some people protesting against Madras Week, and that is a sure sign of its success. You, Chief, and along with you MMM and other coordinators of Madras Week have been accused of being in the pay of Rome. A rather prolix diatribe has it that we are all in it to paint our erstwhile colonial masters in a rosy light thereby getting orthodox Hindus to convert to Christianity. This tract was titled ‘Madras Weak’; MMM believes that the appropriate word to come in next is usually ‘sic’.

Yet another write-up, this one an online petition, had it that Madras was a bustling metropolis even before the British came. MMM believes that Francis Day took the 19M bus to travel to the Nayak for negotiations and after they signed the deal they went to Buhari’s to celebrate.

These detractors were, however, enough to excite the media, which is forever hunting around for controversies. MMM received several calls from the electronic media wanting what they refer to as sound bytes. He bit them all off soundly and refused to rise to the bait. Controversies for­sooth! The debate, if ever there was one, raged before an entirely indifferent public and those who opted to celebrate Madras Week, continued doing so.

Having said that, Chief, MMM would like to remind you of his share when Il Papa sends you what he promised in return for our celebrating ­Madras Week. And no, MMM will not settle for a bible and a rosary. Meanwhile he looks forward to Chennai Week in September when Telugu will get its due.

A historic wave

The number of historians and chroniclers that our city sprouted during Madras Week defied count. There was a time, Chief, when you were the only one. Now anyone with access to a fast internet connection to browse Wikipedia is a historian or a chronicler or whatever is the appellation of choice. The newspapers described even MMM as one! And in that capacity MMM went to town. He even sat in judgement over presentations on our city’s history – all downloaded from Wikipedia, with MMM checking the same source for veracity!

And so it was that MMM made his way to a women’s college where he was asked to sit in judgement over presentations to be made by students and faculty on three great women of Madras. MMM was rash enough to say ‘yes’ but then the invitation was from a person who had dedicated much of her life to selfless social work. MMM had always admired this person and so there was no way he could have said ‘no’. The college itself was in one of those places in the mid west, in a large suburb of our city that could have well qualified to be a Union Territory by itself. MMM drove on and on and on. When he eventually, reached the place, he was accorded a warm welcome and taken to the dais from where he looked down on several hundred female faces.

A retired professor march­ed up and having introduced herself to MMM proceeded to the mic from where she introduced Madras Week, herself and MMM in that order. She then went on to say that it was a matter of great regret to her that Madras Week is entirely male oriented and has failed to celebrate any woman of the city. This said, she glared at MMM who shrank into his clothes and pretended to be invisible. Around 400 pairs of eyes, all female, looked at him accusingly. Thereafter, the prof announced that to correct this, the college and the other co-celebrants had selected three groups to research the lives of three women. MMM would now have to sit through these, presumably by way of expiation.

The first presentation was on an Irish woman who was a reformer and freedom fighter in India. This was by a teacher from another college. This was long and loquacious, the kind that omits no detail, however slight. After half and hour, and much shifting in his seat, MMM realised that the speaker had come only to the subject’s 50th year and there were a good 33 left, all of them action filled. Fortunately someone sent a paper to the stage and then the rest of Besant’s life was condensed into a further ten minutes.

The other two speakers spoke for shorter durations. The second one was on a woman who reformed the life of widows. This was a most unstructured and meandering one that was besides full of howlers, English and factual. The third was on, of all people, a titled woman who was from up north and whose connect with Madras was at best tenuous. She studied here at Presidency College and married a fellow student who, after joining the ICS, wound up a distinguished career by becoming a knight and the Governor of the Reserve Bank. He was one of the many victims of the legendary rudeness of a Union Finance Minister who was also from Madras. It was only much later that it struck MMM that the respective lengths of the various presentations was directly proportional to what was there on them on Wikipedia, that one source which has given birth to several ‘historians’. The choice of the woman from up north is still puzzling. There were, after all, hundreds of other deserving wo­men from Madras.

Food For All

The Madras Week programmes that ye olde magazine conducts were also rapturously received, Chief, though you, rather selfishly in MMM’s view, chose to make it only to those events that interested you – nawabs, cricket and governors on governors general who played marriage broker. MMM being more duty conscious went to all. So did a gang of food predators that came only to eat at each of these events. And, by Francis Day! they did succeed in irritating everyone else who attended – the hapless staff at the hotels that hosted the events, the other guests and, at times, even the speakers. One of the last named, a gentle soul who is rather high up in Government circles made it quite clear that he would not want to be associated with the event if these feral creatures turned up. MMM being of a more socialistic bent of mind preferred to mentally entertain himself by identifying which animal ­species each of these food predators reminded him of. Here is a shortlist:

Woolly Mammoth – A large hairy creature with weak eyesight who makes up for it by a strong sense of smell that detects when the food is served. He then uses his powerful trunk (which no doubt has evolved into his hands) to twist and manipulate his way into the crowds and fill his plate.

The Boa – The female of the variety is deadlier than the male and in keeping with this, the Boa is of the distaff side. The glare from her jewellery blinds the others in the refreshments queue and, taking advantage of it, she slithers her way in. She also hissed angrily and spat venom about the way in which women panellists at a discussion on fashion in Chennai were dressed.

The Vulture – Tall and beaky, with a drooping expression, this is a gentlemanly predator that waits for other more aggressive ones such as Woolly Mammoth and the Boa to make way before it swoops in on the kill.

The Gorilla – Big made, with a paunch and shambling gait, it has a large mouth that can chomp away at the toughest of food offerings, including, in MMM’s view, a couple of plates and knives. It hovers around the refreshment counters long before the offerings are brought in, thereby cunningly reserving for itself the first place in the queue. Having begun eating when the food counter opens, it continues doing so till the time the programme has wound to a close. It also belches loudly in appreciation of what it has eaten.

The Love Birds – This couple is always seen together. Two hearts that beat as one, two minds that think alike. They cleverly divide the labour – he stocking up on the savouries while she forages among the sweets. Then he fills in the water while she loads up on coffee. They then retire to a cosy nest where they cluck happily at their success, all won by hard use of claws and beaks. They then bill and coo as they eat.

The Porcupine – A saturnine creature that not only rushes at the food but also insists on asking all the embarrassing and prickly questions. It kind of met its match at a lecture on the life of a diva where it asked the speaker as to what the attitude of the late terpsichorean was towards the birds and bees. “Pro sex and anti babies”, was the terse answer which shut the Porcupine up.

The Owl – A rather effeminate creature, it has a pair of round, thick glasses that it peers at everyone through. But watch it fly from counter to counter, filling its plate in a hurry and you could get Olympians inspired.

The Sea Anemone – It gets this name from a badly fitting wig it wears. A fixture at events since the time of Francis Day, it has lived entirely by attending corporate events, claiming to be a journalist. It is invariably in the company of a hermit crab that rarely asks questions or converses, but does itself well at the browsing and sluicing.

Given these creatures, we could well have the Chief playing the role of Noah. The only consolation is that these do not come in twos, except of course for the love birds, and the sea anemone-hermit crab duo. But it is MMM’s considered view that there is romance blossoming between the Vulture and the Boa. There was a certain tendresse in the manner in which he handed her her coffee, one for which he had to valiantly fend off the Woolly Mamoth and the Gorilla. She too hissed not unapprecia­tively. Watch this space next year.

-MMM

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