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VOL. XXIII NO. 24, April 1-15, 2014
Short 'N' Snappy

More on wedding gifts

Last fortnight’s tract/diatribe on wedding gifts has had the faithful readership sending in their comments by the dozen. And it has made the task of The Man from Madras Musings that much easier when it comes to this fort­night’s column. What with the temperatures increasing by the minute and election noises reaching fever pitch, MMM is unable to think and needs all the help he can get.

How could MMM have forgotten the drinking birds, asks a regular correspondent. And MMM recalled with horror that particular excrescence which was at one time a regular on the gifts circuit. It was structured in the form of a large glass goblet that had an amber liquid in it. On either side were two pelicans (or were they storks), completely transparent and with huge stomachs that also had the same amber fluid in them. The birds were for some strange and unexplained reason attired with top hats and their abdomens (by which MMM means those of the birds and not the hats) were hinged to their legs (again the birds’ and not the hats’). If you pressed the birds’ heads they would begin bobbing up and down into the large goblet giving you the impression that they were quaffing the amber liquid. What this horror had to do with weddings is beyond MMM’s comprehension, but then there it was. Scarcely a wedding t here was in the city of Madras that did not feature these toping birds.

What about wall clocks, asks another reader. And, yes, MMM doffs his hat in acquiescence. There was a time when wedding guests said it with clocks. Square, triangular, rectangular, circular, pyramidal, they came in all geometric shapes and sizes. Most of them were of a ghastly pink, more or less of the shade seen at the Presidency College dome and at Rajaji Hall, a shade the Chief delights in calling seeni­muttai pink. They had all the kinds of tunes (MMM recalls one that chimed Happy Birthday To You every hour). The problem was that each couple got at least twenty of these. You may think that they could pass these on to others, but the clocks were singularly ill-adapted for this. The main reason being the flat front faces on which several of those who gifted them had their own names etched in perpetuity, the more sinister-minded adding the date of the wedding as well. That more or less dashed all chances of giving them away. More evil-minded were those who had a metal plate riveted to the rear, giving the same details – name of giver, date etc. There was no option but to pack the clocks away and hope that time would take care of the eventual destruction of the clock.

The last word on gifts, says another reader, and MMM agrees with her, is the wooden tower-like object painted in black with two horns on top to make it look like a temple spire. This has a silver disc of a god, or goddess, fixed to the front. There is nothing more useless than this gift apart from the fact that it is uniquely Tamil in its identity. You cannot do anything with it, apart from hammer nails into walls. The sole advantage they have over other gifts is that they are cheap and come in large sizes and so make for an impressive present, especially when pack­ed.

Glory to a leader great

'Tis election time and anything is campaign material for the political parties concerned. The Man from Madras Musings is even now observing from his eyrie the preparations for something as innocuous as the first birthday of a child. The proud father is a party hopeful and is ensuring that the great leader of his party notices his efforts and awards him with a ticket.

This man is from what is known as a humble origin. But ever since he hitched his wagon on to a political outfit (and not a major one at that), his status has changed, all glory be to the great leader. His marriage, if you were to believe the posters put up then, was thanks to the great leader. The visuals had the couple posing with an image of the great leader above them with hands raised in blessing. From the hands of the great leader (glory unto the person, in case MMM did not mention it before) emerged a shower of flowers in benediction.

Anyway, the union was blessed, thanks wholly, if the posters put up then were to be believed, to the great leader. The bouncing baby is now one, thanks to glorious leader and celebrations are underway, by grace of glorious leader. It is a girl child; so the father is not entirely happy, but then he must not forget that when she comes of age (once again ­because of the great leader), there will be a public celebration, also known as grand ­turmeric bath in local parlance. One more opportunity to show ­fealty to the great leader.

The current celebrations began, MMM noticed, with a ceremonial digging of the ­footpaths all along the way. Flags, cut-outs and buntings have been put up, all of the glorious leader, on poles planted in the holes dug up. When MMM ­objected, he has been assured that the stones will be ­replaced, great leader willing, in due course of time. Tube lights, with electricity provided gratis, no doubt from the supply to chez MMM and others in the neighbourhood, have lit up the roads like the way no street light has ever done. It would be a pleasure to drive along with such illumination, but, alas, none in the neigh­bour­hood can pull out any ­vehicle. The leader’s faithful have blocked all entries and exits. Banana stalks in their hundreds have been slaughtered and put up along the way, no doubt an indication of the state of the republic.

Songs praising the great leader are blaring, enough to make the one-year old deaf. But it may be better off that way, for the songs are attacking those opposed to the glorious leader in such cheap terms that the child, if able to hear and absorb, may be corrupted forever, like its father. Talking about father, posters and banners of himself put up all along the route, though of a size smaller than those of the great leader, have been scaring some of the small children who have turned up hoping for cake. The elders appear to have come for other refreshments, for MMM can see several swaying as they leave, some singing hymns in praish (hic) of the leader.

With so much of adoring of the great one, MMM hopes that the celebrant gets a ticket and is successful. For only then can MMM hope for the footpath to be restored to its former state of glory, such as it was, like the great leader.

Tailpiece: Religion, as The Man from Madras Musings, knows, is meant to give everyone a high. But this was living proof of it. Haha, what?

-MMM

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In this issue

Threat to shrink Lake's buffer zone
Madras Landmarks
Heritage is only a facade for Metrorail
Looking ahead at an urbanising India
Eyes that Watched you always
Social life of the Dutch at Pulicat
A People Person this film-maker
Founder of Indian Forest Conservancy
3 Fascinating Journeys

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