The Man from Madras Musings, has had a busy August going hither and thither, being the life and soul of countless Madras Week events. He has therefore become weakened by Madras. During his well-earned repose he has taken to reminiscing about some of the events of ye olde monthe. And one of them brings much mirth each time he thinks about it.
This was one of those where the elderly met the very young, the latter thankfully being in much larger numbers. The old guard was, however, quite jealous of its prerogatives and one that it clung on to was the introduction of MMM to the audience. And so it was that MMM found himself on stage amidst a considerable geriatric presence. One of these rose to introduce MMM and proceeded to read out from a paper in such sepulchral tones that MMM began to have the feeling that he was present on stage in a framed photograph with incense wafting all over him. Halfway through the intro MMM chose to shut his eyes, it being one of those warm afternoons when a siesta manages to insidiously creep up. He awoke with a start on hearing applause and realised that the lugubrious introduction was done.
Assuming that it was his turn to speak MMM got up and made for the lectern only to see another of the elders was hotfooting it to the same spot. He, the elder, displaying an alacrity that none would have suspected him of, managed to beat MMM to the lectern by a short head and then having grabbed the mike in a manner that could have taught a thing or two to barnacles said that it was now his duty to say a few words about MMM.
The few words extended into many, all delivered in a soothing monotone that had the audience dozing gently. Halfway through the few words, the speaker turned round, beamed at MMM and said that it was his pleasant task to touch on yet another aspect of MMM’s multi-faceted achievements. He then proceeded to describe the career of a First class cricketer-turned author and editor, whom MMM counts among his closest friends. It was quite clear that somewhere in the cloudy confines of the speaker’s mind, MMM and his friend the cricketer had coalesced into one. It was in vain that MMM tried to catch the speaker’s eye to tell him that he was making a mistake. After a while MMM gave up. The audience was fast asleep and the few that were awake were busily looking into their mobile phones. MMM cannot deny that he was flattered, and mightily amused, for in his life he has never grasped a cricket bat nor ever bowled a ball.