A Madras Week moment

Ah! MMM, such a pleasure talking to you,” said the voice over the phone and The Man from Madras Musings froze in his tracks. A sixth sense warned him that an impossible idea for Madras Week was in the offing. Sure enough, MMM was correct. The person at the other end of the wire, it seemed, found the poster culture of our city most annoying. Each day of this individual’s life, it seems, was blighted by the posters. Coming out of home and office, the first thing that greeted the person’s eyes was a variety of posters. Those that were pasted on the pillars of the Metro rail’s work-in-progress, in particular, offended the most. MMM heard the whole complaint out in silence, wondering from the accusatory tone if the person on the other side thought MMM was responsible for the pasting of these offending pieces of paper.

And then came the punch line. “As part of Madras Week celebrations,” said the voice, with the air of one bestowing a royal favour or issuing a command, “Why don’t you, MMM, do something about it?” Having counted till ten, MMM then asked if the party on the other side had anything specific to suggest. “Why, it’s quite easy. You know so many people in Chennai. Why don’t you first fix a meeting with the Managing Director of Metro rail and explain the matter to him? He should also be convinced to take action. As a follow-up, you could meet the Mayor and the Commissioner of the Corporation. Then, if nothing happens, there is always the …”

At this moment, the voice paused to take a breath and MMM got a word or two in. He explained that Madras Week operates on a simple principle. Put in elementary Chennai-speak, it amounts to “That that person, that that idea, that that execution.” He then went on to make it simpler by saying that, contrary to general opinion, Madras Week is not run by a vast industrial conglomerate that has thousands of minions at its beck and call. Secondly, the organisers have no clout with the Government and, in MMM’s private view, not mentioning their names is the best way to curry any favour with the powers-that-be. Lastly, Madras Week is all about voluntary effort. And so if the voice did not like the posters, the voice needed to do something about it. The caller did not sound very convinced, but rang off.

A couple of days later, MMM was pleasantly surprised to see that the Corporation has resolved that it would remove posters from public places and fine those pasting them. Of course, this is not saying much, given that our city’s civic body has in the past resolved to have clean public toilets, ensure pavement space, maintain smooth roads, tackle the hawker menace, repair street lights, and clear garbage. Anyway, it is the thought that counts and MMM is glad to note that the heart of the civic body is in the right place. But leaving all that aside, MMM wonders if the resolution to remove posters has anything to do with the voice that called MMM. If so, this must be a powerful voice, a voice that, like Mars, can threaten and command. MMM wishes he had made a note of the number.

We’ve got mail!

The Chief has this thing about the postman’s knock. He writes about it frequently. The Man from Madras Musings is not so enamoured of the game and less so ever since the Chief, in a moment of weakness, installed email and got MMM to administer the daily quota of fan communication that comes to our beloved publication – Chennai Chirpings, oops sorry Chief – Madras Musings.

Each morning, MMM’s hand shakes visibly as he logs on to mail account to see what has come in. Now you may wonder why, and in order to elucidate, MMM gives you a sample. Last week there came in an email that had ‘accusatory’ written all over it. The correspondent began by saying that she was most unhappy with Madras Musings’ delivery. She had, she said, paid for an annual subscription and was not receiving the publication. Of course, this is a common enough complaint upon which MMM has ceased to dwell, chiefly because the postal department (not of Madras Musings which, many people assume, separately exists, but that of the Government of India) is very sensitive to criticism.

But to get back to the email. Upon giving it a cursory read, MMM was about to shoot off the customary apology (‘We know how you feel but there is very little we can do, etc’) when a line caught his attention. Four digit figures were mentioned as subscription and it said that Madras Musings had had the temerity to charge the correspondent the same figure twice but had not delivered even once. It was then that MMM sat up and took notice. Was the Chief in some secret extortion racket, he wondered. What was all this talk of four-figure numbers about which we at MM have no knowledge?

The mail also had another cryptic mention about the weight of each consignment, which puzzled MMM further. After all, we at MM are known for writing on weighty matters but then, surely, nobody could accuse our eight-sheeter tabloid of being heavy in matters of avoirdupois. And then the matter was cleared up. The writer had problems with a well-known monthly that from its name would suggest that the reader who reads it could assimilate his food better. The publication in question was known at one time for sections such as Humour in Uniform, Laughter is the Best Medicine, and It Pays to Enrich Your Word Power. It took a while for MMM to then prepare a reply that requested the writer to please send the missive elsewhere. There has been no response since. Perhaps the reader is digesting MMM’s email before tossing a broadside at the other publication.

If this is one variety, we also have another kind. There is a group of railway users in southern Tamil Nadu who appear to think that their protests and criticisms of their chosen mode of transport should appear each fortnight in Madras Musings. And when it does not, their reaction is bitter. There is a college way down in the State and its Public Relations Department thinks that all the doings of its founder, beyond routine ablutions, must find space in MM. Towards this end they are prepared to fling gold at MMM but he has proven immovable. They have not yet given up hope. It takes all kinds to keep Madras Musings moving.

Tailpiece

The Man from Madras Musings was at a temple. He was stuck for the tailpiece and was worried. He opened his eyes after a brief prayer to find that God Almighty had delivered. The picture below explains all.

-MMM