Short ‘N’ Snappy

-- (Wo)MMM

Six degrees of separation

The natural bonhomie of Chennaiites never fails to charm The Woman from Madras Musings. We, much like the rest of the country, love to prove that the world we live in is small, indeed – make a new acquaintance and the conversation will invariably reveal that he or she is a close ally of an aunt, grandpa, second cousin, overseas colleague, or boss. This social correlation, however, is a rather imprecise art as a recent comedy of errors revealed.

The Eternals have, at present, taken up residence in a new abode at Padur since their home at Alwarpet is undergoing much-needed repairs. Rather predictably, what was meant to be a stay of 30 days is now in its third month – time enough for the Eternals to have made a set of new friends at the apartment complex they are currently gracing with their presence. It was only a matter of time before the principle of six degrees of separation made an appearance.

It all started when (Wo)MMM planned a small dinner party at the new home – it had been a while since the family had spent time with each other, she thought, so she bundled the better half and his parents (hence dubbed the Betternals for sake of clarity) into a car and whisked them away to Padur. In hindsight, (Wo)MMM should have been braced for an evening of strangeness for pater Eternal opened the door with a gleam in his eye; in fact, he practically hopped from one foot to the other as he welcomed everyone inside, loudly claiming that he had a surprise in store. One of his neighbours, crowed pater Eternal, was none but a very close friend – nay, a long-lost comarade – of pater Betternal. The latter raised a brow in surprise, as did the rest. Who, asked pater Betternal. How, he inquired. When, he demanded. It turned out that these were questions to which pater Eternal had no answers. His enthusiasm undiminished, pater Eternal launched into a vague albeit animated explanation about how the neighbour was a chartered accountant too – everyone knows, he added earnestly, that all chartered accountants know on an intimate basis every single one of their ilk in city and country; besides, the neighbour had even told him that he had visited pater Betternal’s office merely a few decades ago and that he held him in great regard, great regard indeed. It was best, thought pater Eternal, to invite this wonderful pal to join the party and re-kindle old friendships. It transpired that the neighbour’s wife shared her name with mater Eternal – a fact that though wholly irrelevant seemed to encourage in pater Eternal an entirely undeserved sense of confidence about the matter. So enthusiastic at the prospect of reuniting old friends was pater Eternal that we found our tongues tied. As the rest looked on, apprehension darkening their brows, a phone call was quickly made to the neighbour in question, bading him to rush home on winged feet to resurrect an old brotherhood.

The doorbell rang presently, and pater Eternal fairly pounced from the sofa to answer it. The moment of truth was – rather unsurprisingly – rather anti-climactic. The only person truly excited at the meeting was pater Eternal, who had imagined this would be a rather cinematic denouement; the rest looked on dubiously as the pair blinked at each other. The newcomer shuffled inside and gingerly took a seat upon the sofa, twiddling his thumbs as the rest of the room gazed at him questioningly. Here is your friend, remarked pater Eternal with joy, waving his arms at pater Betternal; joy turned to thunderstruck amazement as pater Betternal responded with a question – What is your name, he asked the newcomer politely. It made for a rather awkward situation for the paters, E. and B. though (Wo)MMM confesses that the rest were rather entertained by the turn of events. It soon transpired that P. B. and the neighbour were rank strangers to each other – though they were indeed chartered accountants, they had not heard of the other’s firm much less the other’s name. There was not much else to do but salvage the situation with half-hearted small talk, most of which was thankfully filled in with the newcomer munching on the various snacks arrayed on the coffee table in front of him. The neighbour soon shot out the door at the first polite opportunity, leaving pater Eternal holding the bag, so to speak. P. E bristled in self-defence at the mute, questioning looks he was subjected to, claiming that it was the neighbour who was mistaken and anyway, it never hurts to be friendly and after all, they were both chartered accountants. The matter over and done with, everyone turned to quite a pleasant dinner and the preceding awkwardness was soon forgotten amidst tasty sabjis and delectable chapatis. It was whilst dessert was served that pater Eternal suddenly sat up straight and snapped his fingers. He had just met in the building, he cried excitedly, an old college friend of (Wo)MMM’s – surely, she would be pleased to invite her for dessert and coffee? A cry of indignation rose from all sides and P. E slunk back in his chair.

Pavement Pavam-ment

The Woman from Madras Musings is always entertained by how inventive our city commuters can get when it comes to skirting traffic disruptions. They have all risen commendably to the current challenge at hand, given that most of the roads in the city have been left dug up for some project or the other. In (Wo)MMM’s own locality, most of the inner streets that help bypass main-road traffic are mangled, making their congestion as bad or worse than the main roads – but habits are hard to change, and most commuters are determined to stay loyal to their favourite short cut. Every day, (Wo)MMM turns into the side streets hoping that others would choose to go by the main road – and every day she discovers that everyone else thought the same, too. A great din of honking invariably follows, tempers growing quite indignant at the cheeky few driving against the traffic flow, creating snarls that seem hopeless to untangle while the traffic on the main road moves at a snail’s pace in the background. The cycles and bikes seem to have it better, though – they merrily zoom away on the pavements, cheerfully waving goodbye to the rest sitting grumpily in four wheelers and autos. (Wo)MMM is actually okay, she thinks, with such small pleasures of one-upping another on relatively insignificant matters – she says this to assure you, dear reader, that it is not a case of sour grapes when she says that she worries about the pedestrians who use the pavement. With bikes and cycles encroaching what little right of way they have, these hapless souls hold their heart in their hands every time they take a walk. (Wo)MMM hopes, for their sake at least, that roads will be back to normal soon.

Happy 75th Independence Day

The Woman from Madras Musings wishes all MM readers a happy 75th Independence day! Did you raise a flag at home as part of Har Ghar Tiranga? (Wo)MMM’s home rallied to the call. A flag was bought from the nearest post office and the home now proudly sports a fluttering tricolour at the front. May we as citizens celebrate our fortunes and surge ahead to greater heights, bravely meeting faults and challenges with resilience and pride.

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