No, this isn't another cheap joke about the testicular fortitude of Madras men involving their dangly bits, a common zinc & copper alloy, bad weather and electrostatic discharges from the nether regions. Not that Madras Men are lacking in fortitude - of the testicular or other variety. Quite the contrary. We have amongst us many Captains, Majors, Field Marshals (the plain as well as the "revolutionary" variety). We however haven't many generals, however badly spelt, as in Jarnail Singh. You would have to be a Punjabi to spell "general" as "jarnail". We maintain very high standards of English spelling here in Madras. Chennai is sort of slipping, but that is the subject of another post. The absence of Generals is not accidental or unintended. We Madras Men may be hard but we are not rusty nor prickly like nails.
We are strong as steel. Hence our predilection to assume names suggestive of steel (as did Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili of the former Soviet Union).
But we have a sensitive side too. We hurt when "kicked in the goolies", as a cockney would delicately put it, just as anyone else. We even hurt during the "cough test" administered during the annual health checks. We cry in the movies when the heavily pregnant wife is dumped by the protagonist ( for a fee I might let you have a copy of my patented "How to Dump your Wife in 5 Easy Steps") on his mother's say so. Some of you mother-haters (we are too gentle and proper to use the more appropriate expression suggesting sexual act on one's mother, so "mother-hater" will have to do) might revolt at this obedience of our mothers; but isn't the mother the centre of the universe? She cooks for you, cleans for you, cleans after you and feeds you until she makes a more permanent arrangement involving a younger woman when she - the mother I mean- is getting on a bit. All in all a wonderful being, is The Mother. Not to be confused with The Mother who was not from Madras, not even India, and made Auroville / Pondicherry her home. The latter was a wonderful human being by all reports but there is no recorded evidence of her having sons, let alone having cooked / cleaned / fed one. We also call women not umbilically related to us "amma" as in mother. Freud might have had a thing or two to say about that but there is no evidence that he had knowledge of our existence. Which is a pity really, for he might have found a wealth of material for his analyses, hypotheses and neuroses.
Our current Amma is not only our amma, but is also a Revolutionary Leader, Golden Star, Universal mother, shrewd, our North, South, East and West, astute, generous, magnanimous, and a general embodiment of all that is great in mothers / women / humans, if you believe the life-size bills (known locally as posters). So she is really our poster-mom; not to be confused with the Tiger Mom Amy Chua who, industrious though she is, cannot even equal the specks of dust under our "amma's" feet. We love our ammas and we love our Amma even more. Unlike the umbilical amma, our Amma's cleaning after us leaves a bit to be desired - our wonderful city is sort of full of garbage at the moment and can do with a good amma-like cleaning up. I also doubt if Amy Chua has ever stood under a raging waterfall in a transparent white sari. Even if she did I am not sure if Amy's build is such as to render such an event a crowd-puller. For wet sari scenes you need a bit of meat on the bone.
We also like our mutton biriyani. And sambhar (also known as "kolambu" - there is a subtle difference between the two which only a true-blood Madrasi can appreciate, but that is a matter for yet another post) in addition to wet sari scenes and heroines with a bit of meat on the bone. Truth be told, we like them with a lot of meat on the bone. That's why we gave the world "Thunder Thighs" before she was stolen by Bollywood and ended up staying permanently in Bombay with some guy who liked butter chicken.
That's why we introduced "Miss Silk", and made sure no one stole her. Then somebody went and made a movie on her life. To play the principal role they had to get a Madrasi woman who is also claimed by Kerala as one of theirs.
But then Kerala always claims ours as theirs. Like the dam that an Englishman built 100 years ago. Not to mention the water dammed therein. Our beloved Mater will have none of it. It is also rumored that she loves to cook up a storm.
But she does not and did not ever cook beef for herself or anyone else real or imaginary.
We are strong as steel. Hence our predilection to assume names suggestive of steel (as did Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili of the former Soviet Union).
But we have a sensitive side too. We hurt when "kicked in the goolies", as a cockney would delicately put it, just as anyone else. We even hurt during the "cough test" administered during the annual health checks. We cry in the movies when the heavily pregnant wife is dumped by the protagonist ( for a fee I might let you have a copy of my patented "How to Dump your Wife in 5 Easy Steps") on his mother's say so. Some of you mother-haters (we are too gentle and proper to use the more appropriate expression suggesting sexual act on one's mother, so "mother-hater" will have to do) might revolt at this obedience of our mothers; but isn't the mother the centre of the universe? She cooks for you, cleans for you, cleans after you and feeds you until she makes a more permanent arrangement involving a younger woman when she - the mother I mean- is getting on a bit. All in all a wonderful being, is The Mother. Not to be confused with The Mother who was not from Madras, not even India, and made Auroville / Pondicherry her home. The latter was a wonderful human being by all reports but there is no recorded evidence of her having sons, let alone having cooked / cleaned / fed one. We also call women not umbilically related to us "amma" as in mother. Freud might have had a thing or two to say about that but there is no evidence that he had knowledge of our existence. Which is a pity really, for he might have found a wealth of material for his analyses, hypotheses and neuroses.
Our current Amma is not only our amma, but is also a Revolutionary Leader, Golden Star, Universal mother, shrewd, our North, South, East and West, astute, generous, magnanimous, and a general embodiment of all that is great in mothers / women / humans, if you believe the life-size bills (known locally as posters). So she is really our poster-mom; not to be confused with the Tiger Mom Amy Chua who, industrious though she is, cannot even equal the specks of dust under our "amma's" feet. We love our ammas and we love our Amma even more. Unlike the umbilical amma, our Amma's cleaning after us leaves a bit to be desired - our wonderful city is sort of full of garbage at the moment and can do with a good amma-like cleaning up. I also doubt if Amy Chua has ever stood under a raging waterfall in a transparent white sari. Even if she did I am not sure if Amy's build is such as to render such an event a crowd-puller. For wet sari scenes you need a bit of meat on the bone.
We also like our mutton biriyani. And sambhar (also known as "kolambu" - there is a subtle difference between the two which only a true-blood Madrasi can appreciate, but that is a matter for yet another post) in addition to wet sari scenes and heroines with a bit of meat on the bone. Truth be told, we like them with a lot of meat on the bone. That's why we gave the world "Thunder Thighs" before she was stolen by Bollywood and ended up staying permanently in Bombay with some guy who liked butter chicken.
That's why we introduced "Miss Silk", and made sure no one stole her. Then somebody went and made a movie on her life. To play the principal role they had to get a Madrasi woman who is also claimed by Kerala as one of theirs.
But then Kerala always claims ours as theirs. Like the dam that an Englishman built 100 years ago. Not to mention the water dammed therein. Our beloved Mater will have none of it. It is also rumored that she loves to cook up a storm.
But she does not and did not ever cook beef for herself or anyone else real or imaginary.
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