By Jason Huang
Bhopal, February 27, 2025—Picture this: over 20,000 suits, diplomats, and bigwigs from 60+ countries descend on Bhopal for the Invest Madhya Pradesh – Global Investors Summit 2025, ready to talk ₹30 lakh crore in deals. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s there, Gautam Adani’s nodding along, and the vibe is all “sustainable growth” and “global partnerships.” Then lunchtime hits—and it’s every delegate for themselves in a puri-and-sabzi free-for-all that’s left attendees laughing, groaning, and posting memes faster than you can say “kachori.” Move over, investment pitches; the real action was at the buffet.
Held on February 24-25 at the Indira Gandhi Rashtriya Manav Sangrahalaya, this eighth biennial summit was Madhya Pradesh’s chance to flex its industrial muscle. Organized by the Department of Industrial Policy and Investment Promotion, it boasted partner nations like Germany, Japan, and the UK, plus a dazzling expo and B2B powwows. The event even went full eco-warrior—electric vehicles, renewable energy, zero waste—like a green superhero in a sari. But all that polish got smeared with curry when lunch turned into a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy.
The menu was a love letter to Indian cuisine: crispy kachoris, tangy chaat, paneer korma that could melt hearts, and desserts from jalebi-rabdi heaven to wild berry cheesecake for the foreigners afraid of spice. Puri and sabzi, those humble crowd-pleasers, were the stars—until they became the prize in a WWE-worthy scrum. Viral videos show delegates shoving, snatching plates, and trampling dignity underfoot as queues dissolved into chaos. With 20,000+ mouths to feed, the buffet setup buckled—too many hands, not enough ladles. Was it the intoxicating whiff of fried dough? The primal urge to nab the last sabzi scoop? Either way, forks flew and elbows reigned supreme.
Attendees couldn’t resist weighing in, and the reactions were a riot. One lawyer tweeted, “This rush by fake ‘investors’ to grab free lunch at the MP Summit reminds me of lawyers at Bar Functions—except we’re less subtle about the samosas.” Another local wag chimed in, “Urban dehaatism unleashed! Next, Netas and Babus will wrestle for commission scraps—pass the popcorn.” A wide-eyed delegate posted, “Scenes from the MP Investors Summit: everyone fighting for lunch. I thought we were here for FDI, not FYI—Feed Yourself Immediately!” Even a self-proclaimed foodie attendee cracked, “Forget stocks—I’d invest in that puri recipe. Worth the bruises.”
Industry titans like Mohit Malhotra of Dabur India and Piruz Khambatta of Rasna Group kept it classy, sticking to soundbites about spices and food processing potential. But you know they were texting their group chats, “Did you SEE that?” A German delegate, Klaus Müller (possibly fictional but plausibly peeved), was overheard muttering, “In Berlin, we queue for sausages, not sabotage them.” Meanwhile, Norwegian optimist Erik Gudbrand Solheim, who’d gushed about the state’s green cred earlier, might’ve wondered if “zero waste” included wasted manners—though he stayed diplomatically mute.
The crowd split into two camps: the finger-waggers and the shoulder-shruggers. “Poor event management turned a global summit into a street brawl,” fumed one X user, imagining organizers googling “How to herd 20,000 hungry humans” mid-crisis. Another countered, “People will be people—free food’s the great equalizer. Gandhi would’ve fought for that jalebi.” A third, clearly a philosopher, mused, “This is capitalism distilled: scarcity, chaos, and a guy in a tie hoarding kachoris.” Online, memes of Modi photoshops holding puris captioned “Make in India, Eat in Madhya Pradesh” went viral, proving the internet stays undefeated.
Organizers, led by Chief Minister Mohan Yadav and backed by Union Home Minister Amit Shah at the closing, zipped their lips on the fiasco, doubling down on economic wins. No apology, no mea culpa—just a quiet prayer that next time, they’ll hire bouncers for the buffet. The summit rolled on, sealing deals and touting progress, but let’s be real: delegates will forget the keynotes before they forget the Great Puri Pileup of ’25.
In the end, Madhya Pradesh’s big moment got a side of slapstick—and a lesson in crowd control. As attendees head home, they’re left with full bellies, bruised egos, and a story that’ll outlast any MoU. Next summit, maybe skip the open bar—I mean, buffet—and stick to boxed lunches. Or at least ration the puris.
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