Short ‘N’ Snappy

More on Madras Week

Those of you who read Madras Musings regularly will not believe it but there was a rift within the lute between Chief and the Man from Madras Musings just when the Madras Week celebrations reached a crescendo. This rift by the way is an annual feature. And it was followed by another annual feature, namely the Kiss and Make Up, purely on a platonic scale of course. The difference of opinion arose mainly on the way Madras Week is conducted. The Chief is all for it becoming a mass event. Let the food predators prey is the Chief’s point of view. Inclusivity is the name of today’s game says Chief. MMM on the other hand…but never mind what MMM thinks. For his task is to report factually on what happens around him. And so, carrying on from the last issue, where MMM wrote on Madras Week events, here is MMM, writing on more Madras Week events.

“Is that MMM?” asked a fairly aged voice. It had the texture of something that had been preserved well in a cask. MMM replied in the affirmative. The voice then went on to say that it was well known in its day to which MMM made some vague noises for the area or should MMM say arena in which the hands and legs attached to the voice had made their name did not excite MMM in the least. Cricket, if not of the six-legged variety, does not appeal to MMM. The voice then asked if it was true that there was a programme celebrating the local lingo in the evening, to be presented by a well-known actor and trainer. MMM said yes. The voice then asked if it was for free to which MMM said yes too. The voice then thanked MMM and said that was good, for it, the voice, and its hands and legs, attended only free events. It then rang off before MMM could ask if the games that the voice, hands and legs played on the field where also open to all. Anyway, the ensemble of voice and limbs duly arrived in the evening and MMM, unable to resist the temptation, introduced the man to the speaker stating that this was the caller who wanted to know if the event of the evening was for free. While the actor/trainer was mightily amused for he gets by in life without an ego, the wielder of the bat (or it could have been ball), was not happy with MMM.

Lots more on Madras Week

Among the many friends that the Man from Madras Musings has is a prince among patrons who has a passion for collecting classic cars. These were put up on display at a ­hotel that belongs to the above prince and MMM was duly ­invited. So was the Chief. And so was a grand panjandrum who though tiny of stature, packed enough of an ego to make himself a mountain. MMM was asked to be present by noon and so he did, to find Chief and several others also in attendance. Thereafter everyone remained in attendance for quite a while before panjandrum made his appearance. The story that was given out was that the official in question had arrived on time but had vanished into the vast corridors of the hotel. MMM, and certain members of the Press did not buy that story even for a moment. This man has come late for many events.

MMM’s story however is not about the officer in question or the Chief’s speech, which dwelt on the cars that he, the Chief, had possessed. MMM was rather struck by the Master of Ceremonies or in this case a Mistress, if that term can be pardoned. Anyway, just to be on the safe side, MMM will refer to her as MC. She was one of those simple souls who evidently thought that asking ladeeez und genman to give another round of applaaaas every three sentences was all that was needed of an MC. The one thing she had going for her was that she was not of the other two kinds of dreaded MCs – the wisecracking variety or the highly knowledgeable category. This latter variety in particular is deadly for it constitutes itself as an extra speaker on the dais and extends the programme interminably.

To get back to our MC of the day – her introductions of the speakers (Chief, MMM and grand panjandrum in that order) were evidently cribbed from Wikipedia. She was also evidently reading them for the first time for she introduced the Chief as the founder of the Madras Book Cloob. The word club in MMM’s view is easily pronounced but here was another school of thought. Or maybe she had a penchant for rhyming verse. But that paled into insignificance when compared to her insistence on the ladeeez und genman giving another round of applaaaas for everything the Chief did. Thus the Chief sat in his chair and here was the lady saying – he has sat down! Now ladeeez und genman, pleeze give him another round of applaaas.

Then came the presentation of the obligatory shawls and bouquets (the latter MMM delights in but as to the former, he is yet to figure out what can be done with them). And here was the woman again – Now ladeeez und genman, pleeze give him another round of applaaas. The Chief stood up to speak and just as he was going to start, there was the MC asking everyone to give him another round of … This went on, when the Chief sat down, (ladeeez und genman, lets have another round of), when he was shawled and flowered, when MMM spoke, when MMM sat down and so on.

The upshot of it all was that by the time the grand panjan­drum’s turn came, everyone’s hands had begun smarting. He was received with deathly ­silence. Not that it mattered to him at least by the length to which he spoke, reeling off ­statistics. And then, following a request for a hearty round of applaaas for the national ­anthem, the event wound to a close. The lunch that followed was superlative and to that MMM would like to add his own round of applaaas.

Still more…

Chennai is a city, Madras is an emotion – so runs a slogan that is regularly fished out each time Madras Week comes. It delights the pro-Madras gang and sets the teeth of the Chennai clique on edge. On a similar vein, Madras Week it appears is also some kind of an emotion. The Man from Madras Musings will not be surprised if there are still some events being conducted somewhere in the city. And why not? After all, we do not have any official record of ChenRas (MadNai does not sound nice) being founded on a particular date do we?

And so it was that MMM found himself, long after ­Madras Week was over, going to deliver a talk at the Temple of the Arts, founded by Auntie. MMM arrived after a long drive in the midst of pouring rain and then having shared an umbrella with a hostess of sorts, reached the venue. Inside was a densely packed throng of students, all sitting cross-legged, the only emotion on their faces, barring two or three, being of a dull resignation. MMM does not blame them. Imagine living in a wooded garden of Eden and the rains coming down heavily. What you then want is to sit in a verandah, enjoy the peace and have a hot cup of tea. You do not want to listen to a bald, bespectacled man going on about Madras.

MMM was duly handed a mic, which no doubt owing to the wet weather and dear Auntie not having bothered much about insulation, gave MMM a nasty shock. You should have seen the laughter that erupted among the audience. MMM put away the mic thereafter and relied on his own voice. The audience returned to its dull sense of resignation. It duly clapped at the end, no doubt out of a sense of relief. Oh by the way, no tea was forthcoming. Auntie, it transpired, was anti tea.

-MMM

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