Words' Worth

As I was waiting for my food at the restaurant, I watched different people around; this being my favourite pass-time.  A pot bellied gentleman, with quite snobbish ways, ordered the food.  It was clear from his behavior that he was the one, receiving the guest.  As the waiter was moving away, he called him again and with a lot of attitude, added, “Aur tomato soup ke saath woh TOSS bhi le aanaa”.

I took me some time to understand what toss he wanted.  Well, he wanted the Bread Toast. 

We, jolly Indians do not speak the Queen’s English; nor do we speak Kings Hindi or any other Indian language..for that matter.  Dialects change here with every district and it is a pleasure and sometimes a surprise to note the little but interesting variations.  I admit I could hardly understand my grandma’s Bangla!  And my hubby tells me which is ‘Tam Brahm Tamil’ and which is a ‘Typical Madras’ Tamil when we watch some Tamil movie together.

I was brought up in Ranchi, which was a part of Bihar, then.  My mother refused to learn Hindi on the pretext that she will blissfully remain unaware of any bad words the neighbours would mouth, although with time, she did pick up bits and pieces of it: only bits and pieces.  My father, on the other hand, took to local style of Hindi with much élan.  So, he would break into those ‘Jaibey karenge” and “Khaibe Karenge” with no mercy.

My mother should receive some kind of Premchand Award for Hindi or so..!  She would address my boy-classfriends as ‘Anindita ke Dost” and my girl-class friends as ‘Anindita kee Dosti!

Once I overheard her saying this timeless sentence to the girl who helped us with the domestic chores, “Tumhara Uncle bahut achcha badboo waalaa chaawal laaya”.  My mother’s audience rolled and roared with laughter.

But my mother’s spirit was not to be dimmed!  She still continues to say ‘Dal-Chaal’ for ‘Dal Chawal’ and that makes me feel she is going to serve raw uncooked rice (Chaal refers to the uncooked rice in Bangla).  She asked my Tamil father-in-law once , “Shombar achcha hua?” She was actually seeking feedback on the Sambhar she had prepared.  My father-in-law took time to understand it and now refers to Sambhar as Somvaar and plain Daal as Mangalvar, for my mother’s benefit J J

My father-in-law, himself, has his own credentials.  He speaks the Vivid Bharti and Bollywood Hindi. He told me once, “Unn dino Ravi-vaar ko film dekhne ke liye hamaare ghar mein huzoom lagti thi”.  He sometimes complains of ‘Julaab’ and still gets the Tarkari from the Bazaar.  (Well, we do still refer to veggies as Tarkari in Bangla but in Hindi, it is quite a long lost word.)  So one day he said, “Tarkari lekar aa raha tha, dekha faatak par santri khade hain”.  He also gets ‘Achchi Baas waali chawal’ from market and when he met me for the first time, he wanted to be sure that I really liked his son.  So, in a very filmy tone, he asked me, “Kya tum uss-se mohabbat kartee ho?”

Raising toasts to the AIR, he loves to listen to ‘Vidhva Bharti’ / विधवा भारती (he loves to twist the names) and one day made me laugh as he broke into his own twisted version, “Yeh mera prem patra Phaarkar..tum naraaz na hona’.

My meighbour whose name is Ranganayaki has been nick named as Nayaki by her family.  For many days my mother would mistake her name as Nightie.  L

Once in West Bengal, I was talking about the responsibilities of a farmer’s Board.  I enquired how they refer to Chairperson in Bangla.  The answer was, “Oi paati Banglaaye Chairman ke President boli” (We refer to Chairman as President, in our colloquial Bangla).

Yes, many of the English words are now part of Hindi vocabulary.  So we provide ‘Motivation’ not ‘Utpreran’ and conduct ‘Monitoring’, not ‘Anushravan’.  It is like, “Anushravan kya hota hai….hindi mein bolo na Monitoring…..”

During one of my first visits to villages in the Malwa (MP), I had this interesting incident.  As I finished my discussions with some women of a household, I asked for leave. The said, “Baitho Didi.”  I sat down but again told them that I really had to leave, it is time.  They reperated, “Baitho Didi.” I was surprised and a bit irritated too.  I wondered, “Were they about to serve tea again? Why are they asking me to sit?”  Only much later I realized that “Baitho” is the way they say “Bye”.  Like, “Esho” in Bangla.

During some of those initial village meetings, when sometimes it would get quite noisy or agitated, I would often request, “Arey…Shant ho jaao Bhabhi…”.  And Shant Ho Jana in Malwa is ‘Bhagwan ke pyaare ho jaanaa’.  In Gujarat, the death is referred to as ‘Off thai Giu.’

It is interesting and sometimes hilarious to experience these local diversions which only add colours to our lives.  My mother, who is a plump lady was walking by some flower vendors near a temple.  A guy, with a lot of respect called, “Moti Ben, phool le jaao’.  Mother’s face turned puple with anger.  What an audacious guy he is, she thought.  I later explained that Moti Ben is Badi Behan.

People from some parts of Saurashtra has this habit of saying a sentence in both Gujarati and English punctuated with an ‘Etle ke..’.  So, “Aa hamaari potaani sanstha etle ke own organisation chhe.’

So while we take a ‘Jummevari’ for our own luggage in MP, we also count to ‘Gunnis’ (19) and ‘Guntiss’ (29).  We ‘helai di’ (Fele di—throw away) the rotten veggies in Tripura while have distinct rule for greeting ‘Pranam’ and ‘Namaste’ in UP (when and to whom).  Language is also like the Dosa which has a different recipe at different places and referred to Dhosa, Dosha or even Daunsa in different places. 

So let us enjoy this colorful rainbow of dialect which will make our life’s’ journey all the more enjoyable and I am sure I will be able to add some more to this post as time passes by…..