The Madras Week Food Carnival

Blame it all on the late Chief. The Man from Madras Musings, like the evil vizier, kept warning him that consequences would be dire. But no, the Chief, like Good King Wenceslaus had to step high, wide, and plentiful. And like Amma canteens, we at MM have Muthiah Munchings – food for all during Madras Week.

The Chief, good man that he was, assumed that people would line up in orderly fashion, take an item or two on to plates, and peck at them delicately, rather like at one of those garden parties organised by the late Queen at ol’ Buck ‘Ouse. He did not even imagine that the atmosphere would be more like a food riot. Of course, he did live to see many Madras Weeks and noticed what was goingon but beyond sniffing disapprovingly he chose to ignore what he saw. The hotels provided the food pontificated the Chief, and the good people ate well. He did not appreciate it when MMM pointed out to him that this came under the head of robbing Peter to pay Paul. Or since we live in times when quotations Biblical raise hackles, shall we say taking coconut from a shop and offering it to a wayside elephant-headed God?

And so, Madras Week at MM has come to mean eight talks on the side, with a bacchanalia of food as the main item on the agenda. Not everyone behaves that way mind you. But there is a dedicated set of people who swoop down on the hotel like Assyrians and devour everything in sight. They seem to have stomachs of cast iron – for no alimentary canal can withstand that scale of feeding eight days at a stretch. But they managed it very well indeed.

There have been changes – among the old lot very few are left. Mammoth does put in an occasional appearance but gone forever it would seem are Chimpanzee, Owl, Fox and Vulture. MMM misses them for they were models of good behaviour when compared to those who have replaced them. There is Wolf, who all grey locks, flowing beard and ash would pass off as someone who has long given up on the fleshpots of life. But not so this one. He is an advance guard – he always made it a point to arrive early, grimace at MMM (he has always had a strong dislike of MMM, and the feeling is reciprocated in full) and then make a quick survey of what is on offer. He would then call all his friends over cell and inform them of the menu and invite them to come over as though he was throwing a party. And sure enough, his fellow barbarians, who it would seem were skulking somewhere close by, would descend in full force and make a clean sweep of it. MMM has named him Wolf chiefly because of his fondness for hunting in packs.

If Wolf was bad enough, Kangaroo was worse. He believed in packing things away for a rainy day. MMM somehow missed noticing his depredations, but the man had the misfortune to come under the gaze of MMM’s good lady, also known as She Who Must Be Obeyed. Now She, unlike MMM is a person with an eye like Mars, to threaten and command and when she came across Kangaroo packing water bottles away in a bag and also cookies in a handkerchief, all was so to speak revealed. As it was quoted in Wren and Martin, the wretched man was fully conscious of his position. MMM’s Good Lady asked Kangaroo as to what he was doing. Whereupon he unpacked all the water bottles and abandoned the hanky with the cookies and left. Before leaving he gave MMM a look of commiseration but then MMM did not need that. He is the kind that works better under an eye that threatens and commands.

Indian Government Time

There was a time when Indian Standard Time was spoken of derisively – it meant behind time. Our punctuality or lack of it, was notorious. Since then, the Man from Madras Musings is glad to note, we have as a nation improved substantially. Meetings usually begin on time, though as to end time we still seem far from being able to conduct discussions in a crisp business-like fashion and bring them to a close. But if there is one sector that still needs to go a long way when it comes to punctuality, it is the Government.

This came home to MMM rather forcibly the other day when he, and a few others had to attend a Government meeting. The time was fixed and MMM and a couple of other attendees had rather a tight schedule needing a punctual kick off and an equally clear end point for the event. And so, 15 minutes prior to the start, MMM was at the venue. It had been a mad rush, but MMM had made it he was glad to note. Only, on reaching the venue, he found there was only one other attendee – also a person with a tight schedule. Nothing much happened for the next fifteen minutes, which is when as per the original understanding others ought to have filed in and the meeting begun.

After half an hour or so, the minions in charge of the computer, and the online meeting links for those waiting in distant towns and cities, came in. There was a stage wait for the computer and the projector to fire up and more importantly, speak to each other. And then there was a search for the online link – minion looked at minion and some even looked accusingly at MMM as though he was hiding it. Finally, this too was located and after a good deal of “Can you see us,” and “Can you hear us” all was well.

It only then dawned on MMM that the central chair in the meeting room, replete with white Turkish towel (why do all bureaucrats drape their chairs with a towel?) shrouding it, was still unoccupied. The grand panjandrum had not made his/her appearance a full 45 minutes after the meeting was supposed to have begun. Fortunately for MMM, there was a sub-panjandrum who decided to take charge. The meeting he said could begin.

As if on cue, cups of tea/coffee (very good it was) and snacks made their appearance. MMM assumed that those who were watching online ate cake. It was extraordinarily like one of those public banquets of a royal past where the proletariat was allowed to watch. The browsing and sluicing over, discussions began and soon reached a stage where MMM had to leave. His next meeting was of a corporate variety where no delays would be tolerated. Just as he was making his exit, he collided at the door with a rather solid body charging in. It was the grand panjandrum himself. He noticed MMM leaving and beamed – he said he understood MMM having to leave but he said he would get an executive summary from the others present.

Tailpiece

The season of calls from journalists wanting a byte of Madras Day is over and the Man from Madras Musings heaves a sigh of relief. But he would like to place on record the shortest ever call this year –

Hello, is that NNN of Madras Musings?
MMM – No it is not.