Mahesh Rao - The Smoke is Rising

The agenda for this quarter’s MGBA meeting was not particularly heavy. There were the perennial updates on waste collection and street lighting. A number of members were keen to discuss the two incidents of chain snatching that had been reported recently. Mrs Urs of West Garden Road leant forward and told the group that the crime wave was taking a psychological toll: she had begun to have a recurring nightmare in which a tattooed man locked her in the servants’ toilet and made off with her collection of antique snuff boxes. Sunaina nodded as these concerns were aired and then read out a statement from the sub-inspector at the Mahalakshmi Gardens police station, its reassuring message lost in her melodramatic delivery.

Jacob D’Souza, the Secretary of the MGBA, wished to draw attention to the proposed tree-felling on Fergusson Road. He was keen to stress that he did not subscribe to the view that the road-widening project was essential to the city’s development; on the contrary, he advocated the preservation of the jacaranda trees that gave Fergusson Road its unique character. Mr D’Souza’s moving description of his childhood spent in the trees’ lilac shadows introduced a nostalgia to the meeting that was not universally appreciated. A caustic voice at the back of the room suggested that discussion of the issue was premature. The tree-felling proposal was in its infancy and it was unlikely that any firm decision would be taken for some time. Luckily for Mr D’Souza, municipal inertia was as great a boon as it was a curse.

The meeting then moved on to the issue of the enormous hoarding at Shastri Circle. Many of those present were agreed that the visual pollution being visited upon them had now reached unacceptable levels. After all, what was the point of paying these exorbitant amounts for a corner site facing the Gardens if the view was going to be sabotaged by a fifteen-foot advertisement for a water purifier?

The issue had, however, only now made it formally on to the agenda of an MGBA meeting. The hoarding which had caused the present anxiety advertised a luxury jewellery brand: the giant face of a supermodel, an emerald ring in the form of a peacock clasped between her lips, snaring drivers and pedestrians at the traffic lights below. The hoarding had existed at Shastri Circle for a number of years without objection, its staid parade of mobile phone handsets, high-interest savings packages and family cars apparently tolerated by local residents. But there was something about the current image that had awakened a sense of disquiet. The members present at the meeting could hardly condemn the image for its subject, luxury branded jewellery having made its way into many of the home-security lockers in Mahalakshmi Gardens; nor was there any transgression as a result of inappropriate skin-show. Instead the composition of the image and a highly charged quality in the model’s eyes gave an impression of unreserved improperness. Unsightly intrusions on the urban landscape when coupled with unfettered female carnality had proved a step too far in Mahalakshmi Gardens.

The Executive Committee was urged to make representations to city officials without delay and, if possible, a direct appeal to the Mayor’s office. It was implicit in the assembly’s objections that the correspondence would stress the negative impact of indiscriminate signage on the locality, without setting out the particular impressions generated by the supermodel with a ring in her mouth.

There were a few items of little consequence raised as ‘Any Other Business’, some concluding remarks from Sunaina and then the customary vote of thanks. As the members of the Executive Committee stood up, Sunaina glared victoriously at Mr Nandakishore who was seated in the second row. Her bob seemed even more anxious today, a frizzy tangle on the crown of her head seeking to secede from the rest of her hair. She stepped down from the dais and looked around for her husband Ramesh.

‘The rascal, I knew he would miss the meeting,’ she said, as she waved distractedly to various people.

Little groups had begun to form by the table of refreshments and the function room door. The manager of the Erskine Club had made an appearance, the club crest resplendent on his dark blazer, as if to remind the MGBA members that, regardless of the importance afforded to their association, they remained on club premises. Mr Nandakishore had decided to avoid the office-holders of the Executive Committee and began to engage some new members in conversation. After all, Article 2B of the association’s constitution included among its purposes the aim of ‘promoting unfettered camaraderie and congenial fellowship among the Members and all residents of Mahalakshmi Gardens.’

‘That was very interesting,’ said Jaydev. ‘True people power in action.’

‘It’s easy for people like you to laugh at us. But if we just sat at home, this place would turn into a slum like so many other parts of Mysore,’ said Susheela tartly.

‘I was being serious,’ protested Jaydev. ‘I have never been to a meeting like this. Where I live most people are always abroad at their children’s homes anyway.’

‘We have to take care of ourselves,’ said Susheela, her tone softening.

She looked around the room and then stood up.

‘I will take my leave, Mr Jaydev. Enjoy your dinner,’ she said.

‘Why don’t you join us?’

‘Oh no, I didn’t mean to ask for an invitation.’

‘Of course not, but it would be very nice if you could join us. It’s only Sunaina and Ramesh, whom you know.’

‘That’s very kind of you, but I should really get home.’

‘To read the Mokshvihar pamphlet?’

‘Yes, maybe. You have no idea what my spiritual needs are.’

‘I think your soul will be better nourished with a plate of delicious pasta than a lecture given by some mad guru.’

‘No please, I really don’t want to barge in on your evening like this.’

‘Fine, if you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to Sunaina. Here she is.’

Sunaina had found Ramesh playing billiards in another room and was now approaching Jaydev and Susheela, still fuelled by her post-meeting adrenalin.

‘Sush, I didn’t even see you and here you are in the front row,’ she said.

‘I have just been telling Susheelaji that she absolutely must come with us to La Whatever-it’s-called tonight,’ said Jaydev.

‘And I have been telling Mr Jaydev that I simply cannot charge in uninvited.’

‘You’re invited now, na ? What do you need, Sush, an embossed card with tassels?’ asked Sunaina. ‘You’ll love this place. Last time I had the tiramisu, I swear, they had to carry me out of there.’

And with that, Susheela found herself being shepherded towards the Kamaths’ car.

‘Ramesh, if you try and have another peg here, I swear I’ll bury you in that flower bed,’ said Sunaina.

Susheela caught Jaydev’s eye and smiled. As they left the club, the manager bid them a curt good night. There was a chance he had heard the allusion to destruction of club property and, if so, had no doubt taken a dim view.

On the way out of the mall, Girish wanted to stop off in the electronics department for a few minutes. They walked through a crowd watching a demonstration for a new model of hotplate and reached the computer section. Girish immediately engaged one of the sales assistants in a conversation about laptops. Mala looked around for a seat but there was nothing in sight.