Weak after Madras Week

It is done, Chief! Exactly as you had predicted it would be a celebration worthy of 375 years. Old Mother

Madras never had it so good before. Cakes, books, talks, walks, film screenings, exhibitions, quizzes, rides, sails, TV features, news reports, tweets, fb posts, blogs, photo sessions… you name it, we had it. And The Man from Madras Musings was happy to see you, Chief, flitting from spot to spot, so to speak, always being greeted by someone who wanted to be photographed with you.

MMM confined himself to a few select walks, talks and other events, and it is of the quirkier side of these that he takes pen in hand to write about. And he has strange tales to tell you, Chief, that will make whatever is left of your knotted and combined locks part and stand on end like quills on a fretful porpentine, as the Bard put it so wonderfully.

MMM well remembers his column a couple of years ago when he wrote on the freeloaders who descended on the events in droves. He had ­mentioned about their eating habits, their table manners and their tendency to generally ­behave like camels – stacking up in their vast interiors enough reserves of food to last till the next Madras Week. That, if you recollect, Chief, got the old magazine into trouble. Several of the freeloaders wrote back saying that it was the organisers’ bounden duty to feed them as compensation for their having to listen to the speeches in full. And so MMM will not speak of that lot ­beyond mentioning that their numbers have dwindled.

Perhaps it is on doctor’s advice. But MMM misses some of them, particularly the granny who used to come with three generations of her family. He did notice her on Day One when the hotel served just ­coffee and tea in a marked manner. She stayed off since then, perhaps assuming that in this depressed economic ­scenario other hotels may ­offer just the odd biscuit and glass of water. Though a few venues really gave just that, others more than made up for it and so I hope this Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe (she had so many children she did not know what to do) will be with us in the Madras Weeks to come.

But others were there in full strength. The sleeveless wonder is, of course, a regular now. He laughs uproariously for no particular reason and, of course, surreptitiously records every one of the events, though for what earthly purpose MMM does not know. May be he plans a parallel event in the underworld. Then there is he of bouncer-build who feeds on everything that is on offer including, in MMM’s view, the paper plates and the polystyrene cups. At one event, MMM, not having much else to do, counted the man consuming twenty savou­ries, fifteen cups of sweets, twelve plates of fritters and six cups of coffee. The man slept soundly during the panel discussion that followed (after six cups of coffee!!). The next day saw another panel discussion on food when, during question time, up bounced and bouncer and spoke of how he had seen cockroa­ches and stones in his food in restaurants and had had to complain about them. MMM wondered if it was ­because they were not well done and so he could not eat them.

Yet another event was at a bookshop-cum-boutique-cum-restaurant. One of the honour­ed guests chose to filch a book from the display and walk away. He was fortunately ­apprehended after the event and the book retrieved from him. Crime is raising its ugly head during Madras Week, Chief, and if that is not a sure sign of success, then MMM does not know what is.

Tales we hear!

Madras Week also saw several sidekicks of the Chief making it big on the small screen. The actor, the writer/entrepreneur (as he calls himself), and the photo­grapher were all there, rather in the manner of the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker. One of these program­mes also had a former ­Member of the Tamil Nadu Legislative Assembly holding forth on the history of the city. The man, who rejoices in the name of the powerful God who wielded the plough, had apparently represented Park Town at one time and, so, considers himself quite an authority. And so he gave all viewers a lesson in ­history.

It was then that The Man from Madras Musings realised that the Chief has all along been hoodwinking us with his version of the history of ­Madras. The former MLA claimed that the area we know of as Town was in reality two parts – George Town and Black Town. The for­mer, he claimed, was a white ­enclave where apar­­theid was strictly follow­ed. The ‘dirty natives’, he said, were sent to the periphery and there they eked out a precarious living in areas such as Roya­puram, Wall Tax Road and Park Town. All this was said with a breezy insouciance that only a politician can bring to a subject that he knows nothing about. If MMM had been on the spot he could have asked the man as to how was it then that most of the streets of George Town were named ­after Indian dubashes.

MMM also wanted to know as to the veracity of the newspaper ­archives the ex-MLA had read where it was reported in 1911 that Black Town had been ­renamed George Town that year. But he had no chance, for, by then, the former MLA had moved on to wax eloquent on the Cooum which, he said, is one of the longest rivers in the country, becoming Buc­king­­ham Canal when in the city! If this be the level of knowledge of our lawmakers, is it any wonder that the Town and the river are in such bad shape?!

At yet another event, an ­officer from the country’s ­oldest civic body chose to make his speech in song. The burden of the song by a Nati­o­nal Poet was whe­ther, ­after making a beautiful lute, it could be cast into the mud to destroy it. MMM could not help wondering if the song ought not to be adopted by the Corporation as its ­anthem, for it appeared to be doing to the city exactly what the poet had written about the stringed ­instrument.

And that brings MMM to another event. A heritage walk in the vicinity of the ­Sacred Tank of Lilies was about to begin. One of the Chief’s acolytes was just clearing his throat prior to leading the tour when a clear-voiced participant ask­ed if the roads to be tra­versed were ‘mucky’. MMM wondered if any ­tho­rough­fare in the city was anything else but that.

Tailpiece

Dashed tricky things these tailpieces. The Man from ­Madras Musings, who generally breezes through the rest of this column, always ends up being stumped at this stage. But all is well, for the wedding season, after a brief hiatus, is back. And so are the quirky ­invitation cards. For a sample, please see below.

– MMM