(fictitious characters,the stories probably not)
“I loved it!”, said the ruddy faced gentleman. ” We have been running into the delegates here and there, and I thought I will take my family for a day out. The smaller gatherings were also fun, I managed to get invites through some friends so I have to say this was a success.”
“There should be more of this,” said the young man holding a bamboo glass of rice wine. “It is always good to showcase our culture, especially when it comes to showcasing our spirits. I am sure the rural participants have loved this exposure, so many foreigners are here. I love foreigners, they will understand more ….. about…. you know, our culture.” The young man looked lost for a bit, and with the sudden realization that he needed a refill, walked back to the stall.
“Where is all that foreign food?” asked the middle aged gentleman. “Wasn’t there supposed to besome cuisines from across the world? I had Thai food when I visited my son in Bangalore and that Austrian stall has run out of sausages. I guess I will go make a run for the Bhoi stall.”
Excitedly she said, “we want to celebrate the indigenous culture of the state and the region without resorting to patronization and keeping within a budget that builds a foundation for the rural cultivators. Ideas like fair trade and direct markets were hopefully tossed around in those VIP enclaves, as they decide what the people of Meghalaya want. I hope so, I mean I mentioned it in a Facebook post once, I hope that something is done in that regards. This is why I am here – I want to be a part of a movement.” The red-eyed young organization representative then continued, “For lack of a big word, I guess I am quite hungry too, and really dehydrated.” “O and there will be a light show,” she uttered through glazed eyes and hopped away looking for a Bisleri.
“I walked a mile,” said the tired old lady. “And then the MP’s cars came and his men shouted at meand my grandchildren to get out of the way. But I thought the important guests had four days to experience this.” She looked around hopelessly at the stalls as the food ran out, “and now they say there isn’t any food left. I just hope my son has managed to park the car nearby. I’ll have to take these kids back soon, they are hungry and it is getting cold.”
“Luckily we had a VIP parking pass, although the traffic jam on the way was upsetting. They could have handled it better, but what can you say,” said the intelligent looking lady in really nice clothes.
“No I have never heard of Pinewood,” said the rural kitchen volunteer. “It was very cold last night, and I wished they had provided a sleeping space here at the venue. But we had to manage.” The volunteer grinned shyly and concluded, “lots of people came, I only wished they all had got a chance to eat. We just did what we were told to do.”
“How dare you?”, shouted the angry official, “Do you know who I am? Don’t teach me about event management? You don’t know what it takes to run things.” The red faced administrator then fumbled on his brand new smart phone as he attempted to accept a call. After mistakenly cutting the call he continued, “Handling such a big budget of crores for such large scale events is not easy. And you disrespectful kids have no idea how to speak to the elders. Don’t talk about things like transparent accounts and throw flimsy accusations of mismanagement. Do you see the amount of business we would have got for the food stalls on the way to the event?”
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