What say the headlights?

As The Man from Madras Musings ages (and rather gracefully, as he likes to think), he has difficulties with flashing headlights. A few years ago he would have taken them in his stride but not so any more. A blinding beam, followed by complete darkness and then a blinding beam again, stuns MMM. He then prefers to halt his vehicle when this happens and resumes only when he has regained his bearings.

All this has, however, had MMM do some research on what the headlights actually hope to convey when they are flashed at an oncoming vehicle. MMM learns that in the United Kingdom, rather characteristically, flashing of headlights means nothing more than conveying the information that there is a vehicle somewhere out there. MMM is no wordsmith, but there is something in the way this information is worded that gives you the impression that dimming and brightening the lights in that country is the worst of form. The US equivalent is quite typically encased in legalese and claims that flashing of the lights is permitted by some amendment or the other of that country’s constitution which document, as you may be aware, the Americans are rather inordinately proud of. This states that the flashing of headlights has varying messages to convey based on the State of that country you happen to be in.

Coming to our country and, in particular, our beloved city, the records are silent. And so it is left to prophet MMM to interpret our codes. And here they are:

1. Get out of the way, I am going ahead – this is the variety that flashes its headlights into your rear-view mirror. You, therefore, get it up close and right between the eyebrows. Having thus incapacitated you, your predator overtakes you and rushes ahead.

2. I got money, I got money! This variety uses those mammoth cars whose names rhyme with the word gaudy. The lights apparently are never switched off, or cannot be, and so they are forever glaring at you.

3. On Government duty – You can never miss them. They will keep flashing and also continuously hooting at you till you are blinded and deafened and come to a halt. They then charge ahead, carrying their precious personage from one meeting to another. The speed is only on the road. Very little actually happens in the meetings.

4. Out of the way, you titch! These are the large vehicles which are in the opposite lane, heading towards you. They need you to make way for them so that they can proceed unimpeded. And in case you don’t move, they can cause you and your vehicle grievous injury.

5. The compulsive flasher – This one has it and so will flash it. By that MMM means that there is no earthly reason for these vehicles to keep flickering their headlights but they will do it just because they have the facility to do so.

All these are just indicative types. If you can identify some people whom you recognised in the above archetypes, or if you can add some more to this list, the credit and responsibility are all yours.

At the Book Fair

Yet another Chennai Book Fair has come and gone. The Man from Madras Musings never misses it and this year too made it there and returned home laden with books, much to the consternation of his good lady, also known as She Who Must Be Obeyed. The Fair was, as it ought to be, filled with people, books and earnest discussions. There are some who have complained to MMM about the crowds and give it as the main reason why they don’t go to the Fair. It is MMM’s standard response that a Fair is meant to have crowds and so you cannot expect anything else but that at this event as well. To MMM it is gratifying that an event centring on books draws such vast numbers in an era when Cassandras are predicting the end of the printed book as we know of it.

Having said that, MMM would like to draw the attention of the organisers to a few areas that need to improve. Having the Fair at the YMCA Nandanam is a great idea but, surely, some thought can be spared on levelling the exhibition space before laying out the stalls? The land is what geographers call as one of high relief, the topography being full of hills and dales. The organisers had simply laid out metal sheets on this, placed matting on that and erected the stalls. There was consequently no way that you could know what lurked under the mat even as you took your next step.

Standing at one particular stall, MMM suddenly found the ground giving way under his left foot, which began to go deep into the bowels of the earth. MMM had visions of being rescued using excavating machinery but some kind souls helped and after a couple of heave hos, MMM was back on flat land.

Walking over raised mounds was not much of an issue beyond mild attacks of vertigo here and there, but walking over hollows was a different matter altogether. The sheet beneath bowed under your weight and, as you lifted your foot, rebounded back on your heel with renewed force, making it feel like some third degree torture treatment meted out to worst of the opporents.

That men of books were not stern men of accounts was made amply evident at the Fair. The counters were manned by staff who took ages to add the simplest of totals and oftentimes made serious goofs in adding up. Those who had credit card payment facilities scarcely knew how to operate the machines. Most stalls wrote out the bills manually thereby slowing down the purchase process. And, finally, almost every one of the stalls expected you to come to the Fair with huge bags of loose change.

Tailpiece

The Pinjrapole is rather a favourite of the Chief’s and he writes about it ever so often. The Man from Madras Musings was, therefore, delighted to receive an invitation from it for “the inauguration of 14 cows”.

Signboards too can always be counted upon to delight MMM. Given that ‘c’ and ‘e’ are silent in any case, The Man from Madras Musings is not surprised that someone decided to economise on them.

-MMM