Slim-don't-fits

There comes a day in the life of The Man from Madras Musings when he realises that he has nothing to wear. This, by the way, is every other day, for MMM has just one weakness – he likes his clothes, in which aspect he markedly differs from the Chief, who chugs along maintaining that it is comfort that counts and not style. Not that the Chief does not turn out in the best of Savile Row when he wants to. It was only the other day that MMM saw the Chief at a Consulate reception all suited and booted and being the life and soul of the party.

But to get back to the sad tale of MMM’s apparel – and how sad it is. Knowing MMM’s propensity to lament about the lack of suitable wear, his good lady periodically hauls him upto the various malls that dot the city.

There, under her eagle eye, MMM tries out various shirts and trousers, only to have her reject most of them. After having worn everyone down during the course of a longish afternoon, MMM and good lady depart, having made some purchases.

But nothing in Chennai can proceed smoothly and one of these is the size of these clothes. They are no longer what they used to be. Those who know MMM personally will agree that he is built on what are known as generous proportions (known in Delhi as healdhee type). He is broad where he ought not to be, and that means clothes that allow for certain roominess, especially in leg wear. That is, however, sadly no longer the case, for some madness has gripped all the designer labels in the city which are now churning out only slim fits. These begin with a waist size approaching zero and then go on to narrow legs. Imagine MMM’s plight when he has to try and struggle into them. He made bold to ask as to what had happened to the older and broader fits and was given a contemptuous glance by the sales help at one of the outfitters. The good lady shushed MMM firmly by asking him to change with the times. MMM would love to, but his figure no longer can change.

What surprises MMM is that the slim fit has hit the racks just when Chennai is going through one of the most obese phases in its existence. All around him MMM sees men with paunches hanging out, waists ballooning from trousers, and necks disappearing behind bulging jowls. Just by looking at them you can guess that our city would have been a second home to Julius Ceasar, for he, as you remember, wanted to have men around him that were fat. The same applies to the women of Chennai as well, but of that MMM will not speak, for he, does not bandy about with women unnecessarily.

And, so, given this tendency to put on weight, no doubt due to widespread availability of junk food and increasingly sedentary lifestyles, how are fellow Chennaiites coping with these drain pipe trousers and slim fit shirts? Very well, apparently, for even as MMM stood and watched, several outsized men grabbed several of the trousers and shirts and wheezed their way to the payment counter. MMM wonders as to how they can fit in. He assumes that they buy two of each and then gets them stitched into one.

Indian  Stretchable Time

Come Madras Week and The Man from Madras Musings suddenly begins getting phone calls from newspaper correspondents, radio jockeys and TV anchors. MMM is generally quite happy to talk to them but there is one variety that gets his goat – the one that does not do its homework before calling. He is therefore, usually very short (and snappy) with the kind that calls and asks him to tell “all that he knows about Buckingham Canal” or, for that matter, “the Beach”. To these he responds by tersely informing them that Google would be the best source for what they require. Several of this kind never call back after that, but some of the more persistent ones do and these need to be humoured.

One of the last named kind was recently in touch with MMM. She, it transpired, was from a TV channel that takes its name from Soleil who lights up our day. In terms of channels, this would qualify as THE channel of channels and MMM was loath to give her short shrift. She said she was keen to get my views on some aspect of heritage and so could she call on me at the earliest? MMM agreed and we fixed a time. MMM also warned the correspondent that he had a fetish for punctuality and that his time was not his own. So could she please make it on time? The woman agreed and said that she and her team would be at MMM’s office by 3.00 pm sharp.

The time came and went and not a sign of the team from the sun god’s own channel. MMM did not bother and went ahead with other work. A good two hours later, he had a call. The TV anchor was on the phone apologising profusely. Her cameraman had gone out for lunch and just returned and so could they come then? They were, she also added, just around the corner from MMM’s office. MMM secretly wondered as to why this call could not have been made when the cameraman did not return at the appointed hour but he held his counsel and agreed that they could come immediately.

The corner that they had to negotiate to reach MMM’s office was evidently one of those long ones, for, after half an hour or so, there was no sign of anyone even remotely resembling a cameraman who had fed well or a TV anchor who was eager to get MMM’s views on heritage.

It was late in the evening, long after the Ra in the heavens has set, that the trio – interviewer, cameraman and general helper – trooped in. They were ushered in to a conference area where they were asked to set up their equipment and then call MMM when ready. A good 45 minutes later, the all-clear was blown and the cry went around for MMM to duly appear.

MMM went across to be met by a beaming anchor, a cameraman who was all burps, and a surly helper who no doubt had not had his lunch. MMM extended a wintry smile and asked them as to what did owe the pleasure of the visit. “We came to discuss clock towers with you, Sir”, gushed the anchor. “We want to know why most of them don’t work and why those that do are not keeping the correct time. And also are they relevant today when everyone has watches to remind them of the time and the necessity for punctuality?” So much for heritage!

Tailpiece

HasThe Man from MadrasMusings heard of Kisholam, asked a junior reporter from a famed national newspaper. MMM had not. The caller was astounded. How could MMM, who had worked so closely with the Chief who literally drips history, not know of Kisholam the architect whose death centenary falls this year and about whom one of the Chief’s sidekicks was giving a talk? It was quite a while after he had hung up that MMM realised that the reporter was talking about Chisholm (‘Chishum’ for the uninitiated).

– MMM