Posts Tagged ‘India’
‘Pig-HOOOOO-OOO-OOO-O-O-ey’: A Sequel
Posted in What ho!, tagged Blandings Castle, Cow Hug Day, Empress of Blandings, George Cyril Wellbeloved, Humour, India, Lady Constance Keeble, Lord Emsworth, P G Wodehouse, Rupert Baxter on August 30, 2025| Leave a Comment »
The Indian Curry Dished Out by P. G. Wodehouse
Posted in What ho!, tagged Army, Behavioural Traits, British Raj, Buddhism, Civil Disobedience, Civil Services, Conversations, Customs, English, Fakirs, Fauna, Handicrafts, Hindus, Humour, Hunting, Idols, Independence, India, India Rubber, Indian Clubs, Indian Ocean, Love Calls, Men In Uniform, Mutinies, Mystic Powers, Mythology, NWFP, P G Wodehouse, Partition, Priests, Rabindranath Tagore, Regional Languages, Royalty, Superstitions, Taj Mahal, Temples, Translations, Travel on February 10, 2025| Leave a Comment »
A Raconteur’s Riddle: Spinning Tales While Dodging Dullness and Domestic Drama: Guest Post by Suryamouli Datta
Posted in What ho!, tagged Adventure, Bangriposhi, Humour, India, Odisha, P G Wodehouse, Tourism, Travel on September 21, 2024| Leave a Comment »
Oh, the eternal conundrum of a wannabe raconteur! How to entice the dear reader with a ripping yarn, without getting bogged down in the quagmire of tedious explanations? I, for one, have frequently found myself in this very predicament, my literary endeavours stymied by the pesky queries that insist on popping up every once in a while, much like the kind of obnoxious queries raised by Aunt Myrtle of The Mating Season fame at a family gathering.
“Where, oh where, do I begin?” I cry, throwing up my hands in despair, as the words “It was a dark and stormy night” wither and die on my lips. For, you see, dear reader, I am not one of those dashed clever fellows who can effortlessly spin a tale, replete with vivid descriptions and witty asides. No, I am but a humble wordsmith, prone to getting tangled in the underbrush of my own verbosity.
Take, for instance, this endeavour of mine to regale you with the tale of our merry jaunt to Bangriposhi, a picturesque hamlet nestled in the eastern reaches of India, in the charming state of Odisha. I began, with all the confidence of a debutante at her first ball, “It was at the crack of dawn that we set forth on our journey to Bangriposhi…” only to be met with a chorus of “Wait, what’s the name of the place?” and “Why on earth did you go there?” and “Were you alone?” and so on, ad infinitum.
I confess, dear reader, that I was soon reduced to a state of utter exhaustion, my responses growing more and more feeble, like the dog Bottles of Blandings and Elsewhere fame, after it has been subjected to an excessive number of baths. “Well, you see, it was like this… we were in couples, and didn’t have any kids, so… er… yes, I suppose we did enjoy the scenery…” Ugh, the very thought of it makes me shudder!
But fear not, dear reader, for I have since sought the counsel of a wise and venerable sage, who has imparted upon me the ancient secrets of storytelling. And thus, with a renewed sense of purpose, let me share with you with the tale of our Bangriposhi adventure, sans the tedious interruptions.
The halcyon days of Bangriposhi, where the scenic beauty unfolded like a tantalising tapestry, precisely as one would expect. A diminutive jungle, a cosy cottage, and a caretaker-cum-chauffeur, along with his better half, all combining to create an ambience reminiscent of the cinematic masterpiece, “Days and Nights of the Forest.” Our merry band of five families, sans the tiny terrors, converged upon this idyllic setting, our camaraderie forged in the crucible of our apartment complex in the bustling metropolis we infest. And yet, I confess, I felt as out of place as a toupee on a turtle’s head. The crowd, you see, was not exactly my cup of tea. Initially, I attributed this unease to my introverted nature, which, I feared, was not quite in harmony with the group’s collective psyche.
But, as I delved deeper into the mystery of my discomfort, I discovered that the root of the problem lay not with the group, but with my trusty sidekick, my wife. It was as if Bertie Wooster, sans Jeeves, had embarked on an adventure with the formidable Aunt Agatha in tow. Now, before you label me a bounder for making such a statement, permit me to explain. I have conducted an exhaustive study of my own psyche (well, as exhaustive as one can be when sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits) and discovered that, on occasion, I have mingled with groups with the élan of a seasoned socialite. So, what was the source of my trepidation this time around?
The answer, my friends, lay in the confidence-sapping presence of my wife, who, I dare say, is otherwise an epitome of virtue and rectitude. You see, in days of yore, my confidence was fuelled by those devilish cigarettes, but with my wife by my side, even the thought of those white sticks with filters at the end was tantamount to committing a mortal sin. I felt like Ignatius Mulliner, craving a smoke, but acutely conscious of the weight of my self-esteem, lest I incur the displeasure of my better half, which might precipitate a domestic turbulence of epic proportions.
In short, I was a man torn asunder by the conflicting desires of his heart and the stern dictates of his conscience, all the while attempting to navigate the treacherous waters of matrimonial bliss. Ah, the trials and tribulations of being a married man!
Many of you may agree with me when I say that maintaining a stiff upper lip in the face of impending lunacy is something that could test the resilience of even those who are made of sterner stuff! I was, in a word, a bit of a mess, rather like Ignatius, that talented but temperamentally-challenged nephew of Mr. Mulliner. It seemed that with each tick of the clock, my grip on sanity was slipping, much like a chap trying to cling on to a greased pig at the village fair. But, by Jove, I was determined not to let the good people around me catch on to my internal turmoil. No, no, I played it cool, a regular mask of tranquillity, all the while thinking, “Good fellow, you’re one step away from being carted off to the loony bin!” If any of the group members had indeed caught onto the kind of inner torment I was experiencing, services of someone configured along the lines of Sir Roderick Glossop would surely have been sought.
And, I must confess, it’s a dashed difficult thing to do, this keeping-a-stiff-upper-lip business. I daresay, that’s why the bachelor chaps always seem so carefree – they can let their hair down, as it were, and express themselves without fear of being thought a bit…well, dotty. Alas, I felt like Horatio, constantly on the lookout for signs of my own Hamlet-esque madness bursting forth from its hiding place.
As a result, the kindly hospitality of our homestay hosts was rather lost on me. I’m afraid I responded to their warm overtures with all the enthusiasm of a sleepy sloth, muttering the occasional “thanks” and “so kind of you” in a tone that suggested I’d rather be undergoing a root canal without anaesthesia. In short, I was about as far from being my natural self as a fish is from flying. But, by George, I managed to keep the old mask in place, even if it was held together with nothing more than a few threads of sanity and a healthy dose of British pluck!
The dashed awkwardness of it all! I’m afraid I’ve made a thorough ass of myself by presenting myself in this tranquil and inviting setting, looking for all the world like a chap who has the look of one who had drunk the cup of life and found a dead beetle at the bottom. My companions, no doubt, had been hoping to indulge in a spot of idle chatter or a hearty guffaw or two, but instead, they were stuck with a fellow who resembled a fugitive from a particularly dismal funeral procession. I daresay, they must be thinking, “Good heavens, what’s got into this blighter? Has he been taking elocution lessons from a dyspeptic owl?” Ah, the horror! The shame! I might as well have worn a T-shirt proclaiming, “I’m a killjoy, avoid me at all costs!”
As luck would have it, on a rainy day when any outdoor expedition was ruled out, the group decided to play Antakshari, a game based on songs. Amidst the dampness all around, some inner clouds of despair also gathered, leading to a veritable tempest of tune-less-ness. I, a vocal virtuoso of the most dubious sort, found myself floundering in the depths of Antakshari despair. My usually trust-worthy memory, capable of recalling the most obscure ditties with the precision of a Swiss watch, had apparently gone on a spot of holiday, leaving me high and dry, like a chap who’s misplaced his favourite umbrella on a drizzly day. The lyrics, those pesky little devils, seemed to vanish into thin air, rather like Dr. Watson’s hasty estimate of James Mortimer’s age, which, if I recall rightly, went up in smoke the moment the good doctor cast his eye on the fellow in person.
As I stumbled from one musical misstep to the next, I felt my Superman cape fluttering to the ground, leaving me exposed, a mere mortal, stripped of my melodic mojo. It was a bit like Napoleon’s ill-fated Waterloo campaign, only instead of cannons and cavalry, I was facing a barrage of bemused glances and stifled giggles from my opponents. The ‘War of Songs’, that most noble of pursuits, had reduced me to a quivering mass of uncertainty, a chap who couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, let alone emerge victorious in the fray.
The tribulations of a chap on holiday! As the inimitable Bertrand Russell so sagely observed, “The wise man will be as happy as circumstances permit, and if he finds the contemplation of the universe painful beyond a point, he will contemplate something else instead.” Ah, but what happens when the universe, in all its inscrutable wisdom, decides to play a trick or two on one?
On the final day of our jaunt, I found myself in a state of utter despondency, feeling as though I’d lost my own identity in the great vortex of travel. The atmosphere around me had grown as heavy as the infamous London fog, with nary a glimmer of sunshine in sight. It was as if the very clouds themselves were conspiring against me, refusing to yield even a single, solitary yellow gap which would allow a ray of sunshine to creep in and dispel the darkness of my melancholy. And then, like a beacon of hope, I chanced upon Russell’s wise words, reminding me that when the weight of the world becomes too much to bear, one must seek solace in more pleasant pursuits.
For me, that pleasant thought was a nice, long soak in the tub. Ah, bliss! We’d been cooped up in that confounded place for a couple of days, and I’d already indulged in a pre-trip scrub at home, but now, I was determined to treat myself to a good, old-fashioned bath. I became as resolute as a bulldog guarding its favourite bone, refusing to budge until I’d had my fill of hot water and soap. Much like Bertie Wooster, you would have found me soaping a meditative torso and even belting out something along the lines of Pale Hands I Loved Beside the Shalimar, if you know what I mean.
Almost all of our scriptures exhort us to introspect and meditate on the state of affairs in one’s life. Being a firm believer, I daresay there is no place other than the bathroom where one could experience this bliss and have an uninterrupted conversation with the universe, thereby giving a boost to one’s Spiritual Quotient.
Alas, my companions, those dear, long-suffering souls, grew anxious at my intransigence, their faces as long as a wet weekend in Brighton. My wife, that paragon of patience, took centre stage, her eyebrows shooting up like a warning flag on a stormy day, signalling to me that I was being, well, a bit of a cad. But I, like Bertie Wooster in his most obstinate moments, chose to ignore her gentle remonstrations, much as he would have disregarded Jeeves’ sage advice on the perils of donning a white mess jacket with brass buttons.
The tension was palpable, the air thick with the weight of my own stubbornness. I can only imagine the trauma I inflicted upon my fellow travellers, who, in their infinite wisdom, chose to support my wife’s sensible entreaties over my own, ahem, principled stance. And yet, at the time, I felt the kind of hollow defeat that plagues a character from R.K. Narayan’s stories—like a weary clerk who, after dodging creditors, losing his lunch money, and missing the last bus, drags himself home only to find the milk curdled and the fan creaking in the sweltering heat.
But fate, in its infinite mercy, intervened, and the caretaker’s wife announced that they were running low on fuel, and hot water was a luxury we could ill afford. With a sigh that was equal parts relief and frustration, I beat a hasty retreat, my dignity bruised.
And so, dear reader, we come to the end of this tale of woe, a chronicle of one man’s valiant struggle to maintain a stiff upper lip in the face of impending lunacy. As I reflect on the trials and tribulations of our Bangriposhi adventure, I am reminded of the wise words of that great sage, G.K. Chesterton: “The only way to be sure of catching a train is to miss it.” Ah, the profound wisdom of those words! For, in the end, it was not the scenic beauty of Bangriposhi, nor the camaraderie of our merry band, that proved the greatest challenge, but rather the internal turmoil of my own mind, aided and abetted by my better half. When everyone took my wife’s side instead of mine, in that moment of extreme insult, I was reminded of the following words by P.G. Wodehouse:
Are wives often like that? Welcoming criticism of the lord and master, I mean?’
‘They are generally open to suggestion from the outside public with regard to the improvement of their husbands, sir.’
Note: Images courtesy of the World Wide Web we have spun around ourselves.
Related Posts:
A dilemma faced by the Empress of Blandings
Posted in What ho!, tagged Chivalry, Cows, Empress at Blandings, Equality, Fraternity, India, Liberty, Lord Emsworth, P G Wodehouse, Sexual Violence, Size Infinity, Size Zero on September 6, 2024| Leave a Comment »
When a Plum fan becomes the Prime Minister of India…
Posted in What ho!, tagged Humour, India, P G Wodehouse, Politics, Prime Minister on August 15, 2024| Leave a Comment »
Scratch and Sniff unravel Democracy: Guest Post by Suresh Subrahmanyan
Posted in For India, With Love!, tagged BJP, Congress, General Elections, Humour, India, India Alliance, NDA, Politics on June 11, 2024| 2 Comments »
Two elderly gentlemen were taking their early morning stroll at our nearby park. Their topic of conversation, unsurprisingly, was the final results of our General Elections. For want of a better option let us call them Scratch and Sniff.
‘I say Sniff, I am trying to get my head around the election results. What exactly happened? Which side won, by which I also mean which side lost?’
‘Good question, Scratch. From what I have been able to gather from the forest of numbers being thrown at us by the Election Commission, the ruling party, NDA, has earned the right to form the government. Just about.’
‘Just about? But the INDI Alliance claims they are the moral victors, whatever that means, and that the PM should put in his papers. Is it not a straightforward question of who won the maximum number of seats? I am perplexed in the extreme, Sniff.’
‘Like Othello.’
‘Who?’
‘Never mind, Scratch. Forget about Othello. The point I was making was that both sides are claiming victory which, to my knowledge, is a first of its kind in our political history.’
‘Look Sniff, I did not find the time to read the papers this morning and I do not watch television. Am I to understand that there was a tie and that both the sides bagged exactly the same number of seats? Amazing.’
‘You have such a sweet, simple mind, Scratch. No, no. No tie involved. Let me try and lay it out for you in terms even a 10-year-old will follow. The NDA won but the BJP did not. Clear so far?’
‘Then how come Mr. Modi talks about taking the oath of office for a record third term, if the BJP did not win.’
‘Dear oh dear, this is going to take all day. Look Scratch, pin your ears back and listen carefully. The BJP needed 272 seats for a simple majority to form the government on their own. They only got 240 seats. So, they had to depend on the Telugu Desam Party (TDP) and the Janata Dal United (JDU), with whom they had formed a pre-poll alliance, to bail them out and get them over the line. That is the long and short of it.’
‘Wow Sniff, you seem to know so much. In other words, it was only a Pyrrhic victory for the BJP. Cold comfort.’
‘There you go again, why don’t you speak in plain English?’
‘Sorry Sniff. One last question. How come the INDI Alliance are shouting from the rooftops that they will form the government if they don’t have the numbers?’
‘Ah, now we enter the dark world of skullduggery. A bit of body snatching, some behind-the-scenes chicanery, plenty of blandishments on offer – anything can happen. Both sides are at it.’
‘I cannot figure out anything you are saying, Sniff. Are you telling me that neither side won the elections? I can feel a headache coming on. For the last time, tell me who won the 2024 General Elections?’
‘Democracy.’
Notes:
- Illustration courtesy Suvarna Sanyal.
- A version of this article has already appeared recently in The Deccan Herald.
- Permission to blog this piece here is gratefully acknowledged.
Related Posts:
Joy in the Evening – A meeting of Plum fans in Kolkata, India
Posted in What ho!, tagged Calcutta, Fans, Humour, India, Kolkata, Kwality, P G Wodehouse, Park Street, Travel on December 29, 2023| 4 Comments »
Come festive season and a new Yuletide spirit casts its spell over Homo sapiens every year. A spirit of outwardly cheerfulness and goodwill prevails. Fresh rays of hope penetrate through the dense clouds of gloom. Concerns of eking out a living fade away, giving way to a transient resurgence of happiness. Relationships get nurtured afresh. Networking concerns reign supreme.
Kolkata, the erstwhile second city of the British empire, is no exception. For those enlightened souls who are already well-versed in the seasonal predicament that plagues the illustrious Park Street in Kolkata, no further elucidation is necessary. On the brightly lit street, one is apt to see spirited pedestrians deftly trying to avoid colliding with the ones coming from the opposite side, thereby re-affirming Nature’s law that a given spot on a given plane shall at a given moment of time be occupied by only one body. One can spot hassled drivers manoeuvring shimmering limousines as well as old jalopies which are crawling along at a speed which would make a tortoise glance at them in a supercilious manner.
In brightly lit departmental stores, befuddled customers can be seen getting lured by hefty but deceptive discounts. One may feel a sense of pity for the hassled husbands hidden behind a huge pile of shiny gift packets dutifully following their wives to the nearest billing counter. Lobby managers in hotels and restaurants can be seen perspiring, trying to manage the queue of weary shoppers pouring in, looking for something to put down the hatch.
Those peddling street foods of all kinds can be seen doing brisk business. Amidst all the razzmatazz, one can see quite a few pavement book sellers sit idly, having a forlorn look in their brooding eyes, as if contemplating the divine. Kolkata may pride itself on being a city of intellectuals but perhaps there are times when the festive cheer takes over the collective spirit of its inhabitants, suppressing their innate yearning for intellectual upliftment.
As opposed to the infernal din on Park Street, the ambience inside the hallowed establishment known as ‘Kwality’ was serene and cosy. If the government ever instituted an award for a successful and victorious entry into the equivalent of the Drones Club of Kolkata, its first claimants would surely be the five brave souls who could make it on the occasion.
Those turned up included a prominent beak who, had she been cast as Aunt Dahlia in one of Plum’s theatre adaptations, would have been spectacularly popular, a school principal in the mould of Rev. Aubrey Upjohn, a senior educationist in the realm of milk of human kindness, an IT expert who is devoted to his family as much as Bingo Little happens to be, and yours truly.
All those present were punctual, jovial, and exhibited a proclivity for rolling on the floor in fits of laughter (figuratively, of course). The gleeful yelps emanating from them often made other patrons seated on the nearby tables raise their eyebrows a quarter of an inch. Their indulgences were not limited to the culinary delights of Darjeeling tea and delectable fish fingers. Their minds were nourished by scintillating conversations and an abundance of references to literary treasures dished out not only by Plum but also by many others. Movies steeped in a Wodehousean spirit, or the ones inspired by his works, came up for discussion.
They spoke of Wodehouse and his influence on all of them. The challenges of translating his works were discussed. Surprise was expressed when one spoke of some creatures who do not like him, primarily owing to the language being a bit dated and many plots appearing to be copy-and-paste jobs. Information about the Bengali film Rajat Jayanti directed by Pramathesh Barua, which was an adaptation of Money for Nothing, was shared. Sakher Chor by Uttam Kumar, which bears a significant resemblance to A Gentleman of Leisure was mentioned.
The beak spoke with great enthusiasm about the famed Bengali cuisine and about her meetings with other fans located in Bengaluru and Delhi. The eminent educationist shared the kind of work he does to uplift the intellect level of his students at one of the premier institutes of management in India. The principal, who has just published a book of short stories, spoke briefly of challenges of taming lions and lionesses in our liberal times. Bingo Little gave a detailed account of works in Bengali literature and movies which happen to be inspired by Plum.
They listened with some interest to a brief account of my recent pilgrimage to Dulwich College. This made them recall another famous alumnus of that esteemed institution, Raymond Chandler, which took them to Humphry Bogart and Philip Marlow.
Suffice it to say that it was a feast of Reason and flow of Soul which was never punctuated by intervals of uncomfortable silences which arise when all the members are meeting each other for the first time.
Who says that joy cometh only in the morning? It also comes in the evening, especially if it is an occasion when fans of Plum meet, that too in a metropolis which is often alluded to as the City of Joy.
(Inputs from Ms Indrani Ganguly and Mr Suryamouli Datta are gratefully acknowledged.)
Related Posts:
The Many Versions of English: Some Stray Thoughts – Guest Post by Suryamouli Datta
Posted in A Vibrant Life!, tagged English, Humour, India, Kamasutra, Saint Valentine, Sex, Shakespeare, Vatsyayana on April 23, 2023| Leave a Comment »
Languages flourish depending on the need of people to fulfil their communication needs. It is said that necessity is the mother of invention. I tend not to deviate from this proverb by looking at the kind of imaginative uses of the ‘Anglo Saxon Language’ that I have experienced in my lifetime so far. In the world today, especially in social media, we experience a few words in English that are at times funny but would torment the soul of a linguistic purist.
Consider Shakespeare, the literary genius who not only captured myriad human emotions impeccably but also went on to enrich the language alluded to as the Queen’s Language in a unique manner, much more than those who have either preceded or succeeded him. If he were to be told of the various versions of English in vogue these days, he might be found squirming in his grave. Other than the UK-brand of the language, we have the one which is used across the Atlantic Ocean. The grammatic and punctuation approaches of these versions are as different as chalk and cheese, so are the spelling norms. Even within India, other than the British standard, we find ‘Hindish’ being used with much elan in areas where Hindi happens to be the dominant force. Then there are regional variants, adopted and held sacrosanct by those whose mother tongue is not Hindi. Consider ‘Bengish’ which is popular in Bengal and ‘Tamish’ which is prevalent in Tamil Nadu. Luckily, the regional variants are confined merely to the spoken version of the language.
Much Ado About Nothing
There are a few situations that at times make one wonder as to whether what is being articulated matches the intent of articulation. There are people who use words to try and stress the intent with extraneous words which tend to destroy the intent completely. For example, I have heard many people facing a chaotic situation, shouting to their heart’s content, ‘Let me rest in peace’; or sometime, there is an unnecessary usage of ‘s’ in a word – as in ‘everybody’s.’ In Julius Caesar, Shakespeare used the phrase, ‘most unkindest cut of all’ to, perhaps, make the intensity of the gore clear thereby prompting the audience to react appropriately to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. Taking a cue from the Bard, in the place I belong to, often, I have heard people using the words ‘most best’ to convey how good or pleasurable a situation is! I tend to forgive such a mistake often thinking that it is ‘Shakesperean English.’
One of my friends tends to coin words with the bare minimum understanding of the knowledge, thus ‘law’ becomes ‘low’ (a debatable topic indeed – if we put the discussion in front of a relevant audience, you know what I mean), ‘maid’ becomes ‘made’ (well, if we focus on the activity performed by the person being referred to, I see a connection), ‘cough’ becomes ‘calf’ (God save the animal!), and even ‘laundry’ becomes ‘loundi’ (not sure if London District Stores have one of such things as a part of their services, or maybe, those who know Hindi, might find this as a bit of a sexist and derogatory comment, implying as it does that washing clothes is the job of those who belong to the tribe of the delicately nurtured!). God knows what more I am to hear from my friend in the future!
Sex and Its Side Effects
One of the many things that India gave to the world is Kamasutra, the famous treatise on the art and science of sex. However, the subject of sex is still a taboo for a vast majority of Indians. It continues to be the proverbial forbidden fruit. Some of you may recall the analogy that was drawn long back by the famous philosopher Bertrand Russel – the result that will be achieved if we wish to curtail a child’s interest in train by forbidding him/her from looking at it whenever he/she wishes to do so. The result of practicing a feigned ignorance of this kind is that we inadvertently tend to often drag sex into our conversations in an indirect manner, often leading to hilarious results.
Often, I have found pronunciations from my fellow Indians which are not only wrong but also funny. Many of us, including many celebrities, pronounce Shakespeare as ‘Sex-pyar’ or ‘Sex-pair’ while being clueless that though the words involved do not pronounce ‘The Bard of Avon’s’ name properly, but makes some sense since the latter pronunciation conforms to the fact that the act of intercourse is possible only when a ‘pair’ is involved. As to the former pronunciation, if I may use the Hindi language here, ‘pyar’ means love, hence the word fails to identify the great playwright; instead, it signifies that the act of having a physical union is a result of love. A fact which cannot be denied.
In Kolkata, the famed City of Joy, there is a place which is known as ‘Sector 5,’ which is pronounced by many as ‘Sexter 5.’ I can only assure you that the place alluded to here is not the red-light area of the city. Likewise, the poor musical instrument which goes by the name of a Saxophone always gives the jitters to many of those who are striving hard to learn it to pronounce it in public. Even expert players of the instrument feel shy and diffident to speak about their profession.
I may add a few more here. Like, people mixing up a ‘condom’ with ‘condemn’, thereby making light of the government’s ardent push to control the population of a country like India; or ‘beach’ with ‘bitch’, thereby adding a bit of spice to an otherwise serious conversation. A friend of mine has developed a habit of wishing couples ‘a happy conjugal life’ (irrespective of their ages) on their marriage anniversary! A harmless wish, of course, but perhaps my ‘puritan mind’ puts some reservations on the use of such statements.
A Fault in Our Stars?
Lest others feel I am trying to criticize the community by thinking of myself being beyond criticism, I would like to draw the attention of the reader to my own world of ‘creativity’ as far as the English language is concerned.
As a kid, I do remember spelling Calcutta (now known as Kolkata) as ‘Callcutta’. I am not sure whether the extra ‘l’ signified my love for the city I hail from. On the contrary, there used to be a lack of ‘l’ in words like ‘hell’ (not sure whether I tried to make the place a bit weak), and hill (surely, it would have fallen on me due to its weakness for an ‘l’).
Pronunciation-wise, I had a great knack of dropping ‘r’s while uttering some common words. Thus ‘electric’ used to become ‘elecktic’ and ‘clerk’ used to sound like the word ‘clique’ (which would make eminent sense to all those who have had exposure to administrative matters in organizations!). To add to the miseries of English classic, I used to pronounce ‘Dracula’ as ‘The Cooler’ and contrary to my habit of dropping ‘r’s, I used to add an extra ‘r’ to the name of the author, thereby, making him sound like ‘Bram Stroker.’ I am sure, had he been alive, this extra ‘r’ would have given him a pain on the left side of his chest.
Coming to sentences, I was put in a school where the medium of communication was English. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to align with the principles of my institution – to speak in English in the school. In the 3rd standard, one of my batchmates (can’t remember his name) accidentally dropped one of his eyelids while looking at me. Now, at the time I am speaking of, winking was considered to be a crime! I tried hard to wrestle with my feelings. I was surely clueless as to how to complain as I did not know the English word for the one-eyelid-dropping-forbidden-stuff. Moreover, to risk demonstrating the act physically to the teacher would have been fraught with a peril of the highest order, inviting some juicy canes on the soft spots! However, a part of my mind which believed in doing the right thing wished that somehow, I should address the situation soon. My next act, I trust, will readily explain what eventually ensued. ‘Madam’ I stood up and bleated, ‘that guy is dropping his right eyelid keeping his left eyelid open!’ I will not go for the quality of the sentence dished out to me, though, but today, when I reflect, I realize, I was technically wrong, for the complaint I had made was from my perspective – when the offender was facing me!
Social Media and English
With the progress of science and technology, now we have evolved into ‘Social Media’ beings. We tend to socialize more on popular platforms like Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp, Twitter etc. rather than attending parties and social gatherings. So now we have the social media version of English, loved by all netizens who believe that the whole world is confined to their smart gizmos.
We use ‘IMHO’ instead of ‘in my humble opinion’, ‘gud mrng’ for ‘good morning’, ‘lingo’ for ‘language’, ‘bro’, ‘sis’ for ‘brother’ and ‘sister’ respectively, ‘lol’, ‘rofl’ signifying various modes of laughing (as in laughing out louder or rolling on the floor laughing), AFAIK for ‘as far as I know’, ICYMI for ‘in case you missed it’, and many such terms which have expanded our vocabularies. I suspect that publishers of dictionaries would soon be unleashing upon us tomes demystifying this latest version of the Queen’s language.
Recently, I encountered a unique way of detestation articulated by one of my friends on social media wherein the person concerned goes ahead to inform the profile viewers that she hates ‘peoples’ with fake emotions and attitude! The thought that pops up in my mind is whether she really feels that the whole community belonging to the world is at large with fake emotions and attitudes.
Perhaps, the poor soul is yet to stumble across genuine love in her life? Or did she believe that she will certainly find true love on social media platforms?! I wonder what Vatsyayana, the author of Kamasutra, or St. Valentine, would have to say to this.
Our Dream Merchants and Linguistic Puritanism
Very few of our dream merchants have found languages to be of some attraction when planning to dish out some movies.
Some of you may recall ‘My Fair Lady’ (1964; Dir: George Cukor), an American musical drama film adapted from the 1956 Lerner and Loewe stage musical based on George Bernard Shaw’s 1913 stage play Pygmalion. The movie depicted a poor Cockney flower-seller named Eliza Doolittle who overhears an arrogant phonetics professor, Henry Higgins, as he casually wagers that he could teach her to speak “proper” English, thereby making her presentable in the high society of Edwardian London.
In India, our yesteryear comedians often spoke in a funny accent and believed that slapstick comedy was best performed with a loud voice accompanied by wild gesticulation of arms and hands. But there is at least one Hindi movie which used subtle humour to cock a snook at linguistic puritanism.
I refer to ‘Chupke Chupke’ (1975, Dir: Hrishikesh Mukherjee) which was a remake of the Bengali film ‘Chhadmabeshi’. One of the characters, a brother-in-law of the heroine, is a linguistic purist who does not like the use of English words while conversing in Hindi. The heroine holds him in a very high regard and keeps praising him incessantly in the presence of her just-married hero. This gives the latter an inferiority complex, prompting him to prove to his wife that he is in no way a lesser mortal. When he speaks to the brother-in-law, he confuses him by using a highly pure version of Hindi, leaving the former baffled. The plot takes many hilarious turns before the hero succeeds in his mission and the brother-in-law learns a precious lesson in life.
Linguistic Hilarity
As long as Homo sapiens use the medium of a language to communicate with each other, there shall never be a dearth of instances of linguistic hilarity. Especially in a country like India, where some may still find an inner satisfaction in making fun of the British, their erstwhile rulers, it is quite likely that the unique and innovative use of the Queen’s Language, as brought about above, would continue unabated.
But to give credit where it is due, this does not happen consciously. I believe the phenomenon is better explained by the branch of science known as Chemistry. Two elements – English in its purer form and the local lingua franca – bond with each other and go on to form a compound which has its own unique properties. It is more like the amalgamation of two different civilizations, trying to live, love and respect each other in a very mundane way.
Purists may not be amused by the emergence of such ‘polluted’ versions of English, but perhaps the blessing in disguise is that the language continues to expand its reach, embracing diverse words, phrases and peoples originating from different parts of the world. The kind of additions being made every passing year by the producers of the Oxford Dictionary pundits would attest to this fact of life.
(Illustration courtesy Soumyojit Sinha.)
Related Post
When a Plum fan becomes the Prime Minister of India…
Posted in What ho!, tagged Humour, India, P G Wodehouse, Politics, Prime Minister on April 10, 2023| 6 Comments »
The Indian branch of PBC, the Plum Broadcasting Corporation, has now released the transcript of a recent interview by the new Prime Minister of India, who happens to be a great admirer of the works of Sir P. G. Wodehouse.
Q. Sir, congratulations for the thumping majority with which you and your party has won the last General Election. May we know how you are feeling?
A. Chuffed, honoured, and humbled, I say. The credit goes to people who have brought home the gravy, so to say. They have placed their trust in us, and we must reciprocate it by delivering satisfaction.
We take over the reins of our diverse country at a time when the foundations of our historic civilization have been quivering for some time. Our peaceful denizens have quietly suffered in the recent past owing to high inflation, rampant corruption, leap-frogging unemployment rates, increasing disparities in income, flawed economic policies, crony capitalism, raging pandemics, suppression of free speech, a biased media, persecution of minorities, and, above all, a weakening of the democratic, secular, and federal structure of our great nation. Under the command of a right-wing party, the nation appears to have put itself on a trajectory which is not envisaged by our constituion; we ride on a wave of pseudo-nationalism and majoritarianism. We have built physical roads but have also created mental roads across communities. Milk of human kindness often appears to have got evaporated.
All this is not to claim that no decent work has got done. In any case, it is not our intention to blame the previous regimes for the state of the nation today, but corrective steps do need to be taken promptly through proper channels to restore communal harmony and usher in an era where joy, light, peace, and sweetness prevail. We need to give up our obsession with notching up GDP numbers and instead start focusing on boosting our Gross National Happiness numbers.
Q. These are big objectives. Just how do you plan to achieve all this?
A. To begin with, I have requested Lord Emsworth, the Hon’ble President, to play a more active role in protecting our great constitution. He has very graciously consented to take some time off from pottering about in the Mughal Gardens, standing up to Agnus McAllister, and closely monitoring the wellbeing of the Empress of Rashtrapati Bhavan. With the assistance of the ever-suspicious Rupert Baxter, several statutory bodies like the Election Commission, the Enforcement Directorate, the Central Bureau of Investigation, the Comptroller and Auditor General of India, and the office of the Lok Pal shall henceforth be guided by his office. He will henceforth also play a role in appointments to the higher judiciary. We have also brought back the Right to Information Act with more teeth, putting it under the President’s direct control.
Under him, a committee headed by Sir Watkyn Bassett, a prominent beak and the Chief Justice of India, is already working on steps to be taken to protect our constitution from being marginalized by the brute majority of a ruling dispensation in future. An appropriate amendment bill will thereafter by moved through the Parliament, so concerned citizens may breathe easy.
Q. But will this not make managing the day-to-day affairs of the country more challenging for your own government?
A. I believe that harsh slings and arrows of governance need to be faced with a stiff-upper-lip and a liberal dash of the milk of human kindness. As politicos, our first duty is to be accountable and responsible for our actions, open to constructive criticism from all quarters. This is what democracy is all about.
Q. So, you wish to usher in some political reforms?
A. Indeed. Gradually, we wish to launch an Indian Political Service, which would bring in more educated people into our legislative bodies, ruling out those from business houses and with criminal backgrounds from polluting the environs of the temples of our democracy. We have already announced that all political funding shall henceforth be transparent, so the quid-pro-quo between the government and its donors and contributors is in the public domain.
Q. You appear to have set a tough path for yourself. The results of such changes may come about in a decade’s time, though you will face an electoral challenge much earlier.
A. Comrade, if the people appreciate the work that we do, and if it is communicated appropriately, we are willing to take our chances. What we need for India is to have a clear strategic goal for the year 2047, when we shall be completing a century as an independent country. The kind of strategic challenges we face often leave many of us baffled, bewildered, bemused, boggled, perplexed, puzzled, nonplussed, and mystified, as Roget would put it.
Q. Could you kindly elaborate on this, please?
A. I allude to such concerns as global warming and the resultant displacement of our citizens who live in coastal areas, corruption in public places, converting the red-tape mentality of our civil servants to a green-tape one, and meeting the challenges of such technological advances as Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning while ensuring their fair and impartial use. Besides, the present task of creating a harmonious social fabric which is conducive to economic advancement, innovation, and industrial growth. Then we have obnoxious neighbours who keep on playing Chinese Checkers with us. None of these happen to be low hanging fruits. But we cannot afford to get distracted by myopic considerations and remain focused only on winning elections, irrespective of the means deployed.
It is essentially to address such strategic concerns that we have decided to revive the Planning Commission which is headed by an eminent economist like Lavender Briggs (of Service with a Smile fame), a distinguished graduate of the London School of Economics, with an impeccable track record.
Q. What about the role of the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO)? And the fifty-eight ministries and the ninety-three departments that you have?
A. I strongly believe in empowering my team members to manage their respective portfolios with much aplomb. Hence, the PMO is already being downsized, if you know what I mean. Likewise, we plan to reduce the number of ministries and departments in the government by at least 25% by this year end. At present, an empowered inter-ministerial group is hammering out a detailed proposal in this regard, before it gets unleashed upon our denizens.
Q. Please tell us something about your team members, as you prefer to call them.
A. Reginald Jeeves now heads the Home Ministry. Using his vast knowledge, tact, and resource, he is resolving quite a few of the internal issues that we face. His priority is to ensure that inter-faith harmony is restored as well as maintained without further delay. He has advised courts to take suo moto cognizance of all hate speeches and nip the problem in the bud. Thus, hate speeches have already become a thing of the past. He is using his famous technique of studying the psychology of the individual to usher in major reforms, designed to improve the morale of the police force, and the effectiveness of our intelligence agencies. An image makeover for our rozzers is being rolled out, so lay citizens see them as facilitators and helpers-in-distress rather than being a source of fear and doubt.
Aunt Agatha, you know the one with a beaky nose, an eagle eye, and a lot of grey hair, now heads the Defence Ministry, ensuring that our irate neighbours keep their territorial ambitions under check. Two persons, Roderick Spode, and Roberta Wickham ably assist her.
Spode keeps crushing all attempts by terrorists and anti-nationals working at the behest of some neighbouring countries under his size eleven boots. As you know, he loves seeing the colour of their insides and jumping on the remains with his hob-nailed boots. Unbeknown to many, he has built his own brigade of red shorts who keep conducting tit-for-tat surgical strikes in the enemy’s territories, often with gratifying results. To ensure that his reputation remains blemish-free, he has sold off the Eulalie Soares brand to an international fashion brand of repute.
Roberta Wickham, who otherwise heads the Department of Goofy Technologies as well, deploys her own band of femme fatales who carry laser-guided and AI-enabled needles which they often use to puncture the hot water bottles of the global leaders and their obnoxious deputies who keep playing anti-India games and keep threatening the country with nuclear attacks.
Peter Patt (the financier of Piccadily Jim fame), now steers the Finance Ministry, keeping a strict check on our debt levels, budgetary deficits and is forever busy juggling the demands from diverse sources which keep coming his way for financial succour. Given the buoyancy in our direct and indirect tax revenues, the wizened old bean-counter ensures that dues to states are cleared swiftly. He may soon introduce a scheme to boost the quality of health care and education across the country. Unlike in the past, we do not wish to abdicate our responsibility to the citizens of India on these two crucial aspects of their lives and livelihoods. In his maiden budget, he has also announced liberal incentives for citizens in the 65+ year bracket, besides an upkeep allowance for all whose annual income falls below the poverty level.
John Bickersdyke (of Psmith in the City fame) now heads the Reserve Bank of India, keeping a keen eye on inflation, forex balances, non-performing assets, and senior level appointments at large public sector banks.
Aunt Dahlia has taken over the reins of the External Affairs Ministry, playing with fire and ice and performing the delicate dance of manners and protocol. Her humanity, sporting qualities, and general good-eggishness help her in this delicate assignment. When she gets into her Quorn and Pytchley mode and starts a conversation with either ‘Yoicks’ or ‘Tally Ho!,’ leaders and diplomats are apt to sit up and take notice. She is very busy calling on all the important world leaders and presenting them with copies of not only a few books of the Master Wordsmith of our times but also some copies of her quarterly journal which has interesting articles on topics of interest to the high and mighty, including one which speaks of ‘What the Well-dressed Global Leaders are Wearing’, written by Bertie Wooster, her famous nephew.
Ashe Marson (of Something Fresh fame), the Wellbeing Minister, and his team is focused not only on fighting the Covid pandemic but also the increasingly high incidence of such silent killers as diabetes, hypertension, and cardiac failures in the country, even amongst the younger lot. All the government clinics across the country are getting spruced up and flying squads have been formed to keep a tab on the operational condition of these. Trained experts in Larsen Exercises are being made available in a phased manner. Importance of brisk walks, cold baths, and strict diet control is being highlighted. Fast food chains, railways, train stations, bus stands and street food vendors at other public places are being incentivised to offer healthier eating options to the lay public, like fruit juices, millet-based non-fried snacks, and sugarless savouries.
Since the incidence of mental illnesses is rising rapidly and because reporting these generally carries a social stigma for Indians, Sir Roderick Glossop is assisting the minister in rolling out schemes to reduce the Looniness Quotient of the people, thereby enabling the citizens of the country to lead stress-free and happier lives.
As an Education Minister, Miss Tomlinson, who has this indefinable air of being reluctant to stand any nonsense, is burning the proverbial midnight oil to ensure that our coming generations lead lives full of joy and happiness, facing the myriad challenges of life with a jaunty sangfroid. Experts are revamping the education system to imbibe such values in the students as secularism, love for the other, civic sense, and the milk of human kindness. Books by P. G. Wodehouse have been made mandatory from the middle level school onwards, so the wards develop a sense of humour in their formative years. In many institutions, ‘Sonny Boy’ has become the morning prayer favourite. Teams of linguists have been tasked with translating Plum’s works in all the major languages of India. Teachers are being counselled to drastically reduce the tyranny of the classroom, slowly giving way to laughter and light-hearted banter in the classrooms. Things are perking up in general. Enrolment levels have improved. Children no longer cry or throw tantrums when being escorted to schools; rather, they insist on not missing their classes, making the working parents breathe easier. Engineering and management institutions are prompting their faculty members to develop academic literature and case studies based on his books and stories, thereby promoting the use of the Milk of Human Kindness in handling managerial challenges.
Our Commerce and Industries Minister, Joan Valentine, is a girl of action; a girl whom life has made both reckless and wary of friendly advances, reckless when there was a venture afoot. She is busy facilitating business houses to pour more money into the system, so additional employment opportunities may get created for the youth. She is deeply concerned about crony capitalism and the rise of oligopoly where select few businesses corner most of the market opportunities, often at the cost of MSMEs and SSI units, and to the obvious disadvantage of the customer. She is consciously encouraging relatively smaller businesses to start growing faster, so the market offers a level playing field and the end customer gets better value for money. Businesses which deal in such precious objects and collectibles as antique jewellery, precious stones and scarabs are her favourites. She is being supported by Gussie Fink-Nottle who is busy rolling out schemes to boost the employment prospects of youth by encouraging the newt-rearing industry.
The brainy and athletic Honoria Glossop, who has an assertive personality and a forceful voice, handles the Youth and Sports Ministry. She is busy devising schemes to motivate more of our youth to take up competitive sports, thereby improving upon our performance at international events. To assist women facing harassment of any kind, she has set up a direct hotline for registering complaints and gets the same objectively and empathically address the same promptly through proper channels.
Sally Nicholas, who heads the Ministry of Skill Development and Entrepreneurship, takes her role very seriously. Hers is a democratic soul who dislikes pomposity; instead, she believes in true merit. Given her diverse experience in New York, first as a taxi dancer and then as a promoter of theatre, makes her well equipped to guide unemployed youth in the country to realize their full potential.
We have rechristened the Ministry of Women Development as the Ministry of Chivalry instead. Bertie Wooster heads it. With the support of various members of the Drones Club, he has set up branches of the Institute of Chivalry in all higher education institutions in the country. Besides conducting self-defence classes for the members of the tribe of the delicately nurtured, these institutes have training programs designed to teach those belonging to the so-called sterner sex skills in managing such household work as socks mending, cooking, vacuuming, dish washing, and baby-sitting. Dr Sally Smith supports him in all health-related matters for women of all age brackets. Laura Pyke has already designed special diets comprising fat-soluble vitamins to address the challenge of malnutrition amongst kids and women.
Rupert Psmith heads the Ministry of Information & Broadcasting. Given his exposure to the field of journalism, he is keen on promoting media houses which can set higher standards of investigation and unbiased reporting from the field. He has already started a popular TV and radio show entitled Dil Ki Baat which tries to bring together youngsters who happen to like the narratives dished out by Plum. We believe that if some of them were to decide to walk the aisle together, the progeny is quite likely to inherit the pleasurable affliction of Wodehousitis. This would mean that the nurses, the baby-sitters, the child caretakers, the private-school masters, and the public-school heads who will take on the responsibility of looking after such rare specimen of humanity who represent a delectable blend of the genes of their parents, would be relieved.
Hon. Galahad Threepwood oversees the Ministry of Happiness, whereas Pauline Stoker takes care of the Sports Ministry. Ministry of Tourism is headed by Angela Travers who is developing dolphin-watching sites and shark-sighting cruises through the 7,500 kms long coastline of the country. Captain Cuthbert Gervase ‘Bwana’ Brabazon-Biggar takes care of the Ministry of Forests and Wildlife.
Department of Science, Technology and Innovation is headed by Wilfred Mulliner, the famous inventor of such products as Mulliner’s Buck-U-Uppo, Raven Gypsy Face Cream, and Reduc-O.
Florence Craye is steering Literature and Fine Arts. George Bevan takes care of Culture and Theatre.
Q. What is your opinion about the Bretton Woods Institutions like the World Bank and the United Nations?
A. I strongly believe that their approach to international affairs needs to be recalibrated. You will agree that the present model of capitalism has merely resulted in a steep rise in the income disparities between the haves and the have-nots across the world. An institution like the World Bank could be coming up with proposals for a new model of developmental economics which would address this issue. Likewise, the UN can consider declaring a Charter of Global Happiness and take initiatives designed to spread cheer and happiness amongst all the citizens of our planet. Ideally, what we need now is an International League of Happiness instead, where aggressors do not end up controlling the future of militarily weaker countries. Global Peace Keeping Forces can be trained in Wodehousean skills and redeployed to monitor and promote laughter and mirth in strife torn areas.
Q. In your maiden speech from the ramparts of the Red Fort today, you mentioned introducing some new civilian awards. Would you care to elaborate, please?
A. We wish to promote Plum’s philosophy of living a happier life in a big way. To this end, we have framed several proposals to institute awards for those who follow the values espoused by him through his books and stories. But we are still receiving feedback from different stakeholders. I shall soon come back to you with further details.
Q. Thank you for your precious time. Allow me to say that there are indeed times when you sound like a specific dream-rabbit.
A. Thank you. My team and I do intend to give satisfaction to the citizens of this great country of ours. The basic idea is to turn India into a jolly good place full of vim and vigour, where all are free to pursue their dreams and have a jolly good time doing it and where people can gaze at the future with a chin-up attitude!
To put it simply, to endeavour to realize the sentiments expressed by Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore so very eloquently in his composition ‘Where the mind is without fear….’
Notes:
- Inputs from Chakravarti Madhusudana and Suryamouli Datta are gratefully acknowledged. Caricature of Plum courtesy Suvarna Sanyal. PBC logo courtesy Shalini Bhatia.
- This is a work of pure fiction, merely meant to spread some cheer, light and sweetness amongst those who take a jaundiced view of the situation in India. It has been written without any malice towards anyone. Any resemblance to either a living/dead person or any situation is purely imaginary and false.
- No animals, trees, or forests were harmed during the writing of his piece, if piece is indeed the word the author wants.
Related Posts:


















