M: I've decided that I shall never speak to all and sundry in Telugu.
V : What happened?
M: A life-altering incident.
V : I repeat ... what happened?
M: Ok ... so I was in Mysore. For my training. On my left sat my good friend (whose name eludes me right now), while on my right, sat... well... a guy who wasn't. After conversing with my good-friend-seated-on-my-left, and realizing a little later, that class was over, I turned to the guy on my right and asked him to move. He looked shocked. Taken aback used in conjuction with scandalized would attempt to convey the general impression he gave. And with all this, he didn't budge but instead coughed a "Sorry?". I repeated my request. The traumatized fish-out-of-water, hunted look still hung on his face. I was beginning to lose my patience. People were queueing up behind me with a "Hoy! Get a move on there!". And in my indignation, I exclaimed "Please move!" to which reason seemed to return to the hapless chap's throne and he ... well ... he moved.
I found out later that the unfortunate guy was a kannadiga. That's nice. But I still couldn't fathom why he looked like he'd seen a ghost when I asked him to move. And then, it hit me. I had spoken to the guy in Telugu in the first two instances of requesting him to displace himself. But that still didn't explain his outrageous 'Howwwwwwwww could you?' expression.
I bumped into a Kannadiga friend of mine later, and asked him casually what tappuko meant in kannada? He laughed and said not sans a mischevious gleam in his eye 'Why? Have you been using that word lately?' and promptly dismissed my question. Now I knew there was something wrong. This time I sought out a girl friend of mine, another Kannadiga and posed the same Q. Again the m. gleam in the e. Damn. Whaaaaaaaaaaat did I do wrong? And this time, the answer came.
V : What happened?" (Ok ... I think I need a new line)
M: Well ... I was speaking to my friend right? ... in class? I was conversing with her in telugu. And when the class ended, I had turned around and said "tappuko" in the same flow to this random guy. And ... sigh! While tappuko means 'move' in telugu ... (deep sigh) ... that guy heard it as something else... the 'pp' part of tappuko must have sounded like 'bb' to him and ...
V : Ok ... what happened? (I really need a new line now...)
(Silence)
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(Umm... more silence)
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M : Sigh ... In kannada, tabbuko means "hug me".
V : (Rendered incapable of speech. Current action : ROTFL)
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Tagged.
కార్తీక్ గాడు నన్ను tag చేసాడు. So here I am racking my head as to what my idiosyncracies could be. When I really should be sleeping. Grumble.
1. I had this quirk for a very long time ... if someone hit me on my left hand, I'd hit myself on the same spot on the other hand to balance it out. Wierd? Not half. This actually went cantering to such heights that if my foot touched someone's chappal, then I'd use the other foot and touch the second chappal and endevour to displace it by the exact same distance and angle as the first one (which anyway happened by mistake to begin with). Sigh. Poor me in those days.
2. When I see a fold on a garment ... be it a curtain or a table cloth or someone's chunni, I just HAVE to go and smoothen that crease and keep flattening it till my hands have lost a coupla inches.
3. In my world of fantasy, (which I suspect is a customized set of utterly ridiculous but extremely pleasant thoughts), I'm the world's greatest dancer. Kuchipudi is my main stream, but I'm perfectly capable of executing complex manoeuvers in any style of dance known to man. Oh wait, that doesn't include ballet though ... it only limits itself to Indian classical dance styles. And yeah, I've been bequeathed the greatest of the titles from India's Bharat Ratna to France's Legion of Honour (all before I've hit 30). Naaahiiiiice.
4. I like my పప్పు, కూర, సాంబార్, చారు, మజ్జిగ పులుసులు, పిండి మిరియం (That, in the same order is daal, curry, sambar, rasam, and I don't know whatever majjiga pulusu is called (umm ok... its a buttermilk based sambar, poured loosely (no pun intended)) and pindi miriyam( uhh... I think this one's got a lot of urad daal, lots of black pepper( hence the name 'miriyam' ... meaning pepper) , and beans... but beans can be substituted with any other gourd- veggie also I think) to be ever so slightly sweetish. I cannot bear a dish that has the essence of tamarind and the absence of jaggery. Even my pulihora must have have gud in it. I like the mix of sweet-sour in my food, and if you can't manage to bring that out, then don't invite me. So there.
5. I believe that the planets watch over us and especially bow to Hiranyagarbha - He who dispenses with lethary and who has a proclivity to dole out life-giving rays and the whole works. And all this, when I wake up at 12 in the afternoon.
6. When I see a train, I HAVE to count the number of bogies. And woe begone the person who interrupts me.
That's that. I know they're more. But I've to think 'bout them and I'm sure I've better things to do. Like look at the stars outside and think of being an astronaut.
1. I had this quirk for a very long time ... if someone hit me on my left hand, I'd hit myself on the same spot on the other hand to balance it out. Wierd? Not half. This actually went cantering to such heights that if my foot touched someone's chappal, then I'd use the other foot and touch the second chappal and endevour to displace it by the exact same distance and angle as the first one (which anyway happened by mistake to begin with). Sigh. Poor me in those days.
2. When I see a fold on a garment ... be it a curtain or a table cloth or someone's chunni, I just HAVE to go and smoothen that crease and keep flattening it till my hands have lost a coupla inches.
3. In my world of fantasy, (which I suspect is a customized set of utterly ridiculous but extremely pleasant thoughts), I'm the world's greatest dancer. Kuchipudi is my main stream, but I'm perfectly capable of executing complex manoeuvers in any style of dance known to man. Oh wait, that doesn't include ballet though ... it only limits itself to Indian classical dance styles. And yeah, I've been bequeathed the greatest of the titles from India's Bharat Ratna to France's Legion of Honour (all before I've hit 30). Naaahiiiiice.
4. I like my పప్పు, కూర, సాంబార్, చారు, మజ్జిగ పులుసులు, పిండి మిరియం (That, in the same order is daal, curry, sambar, rasam, and I don't know whatever majjiga pulusu is called (umm ok... its a buttermilk based sambar, poured loosely (no pun intended)) and pindi miriyam( uhh... I think this one's got a lot of urad daal, lots of black pepper( hence the name 'miriyam' ... meaning pepper) , and beans... but beans can be substituted with any other gourd- veggie also I think) to be ever so slightly sweetish. I cannot bear a dish that has the essence of tamarind and the absence of jaggery. Even my pulihora must have have gud in it. I like the mix of sweet-sour in my food, and if you can't manage to bring that out, then don't invite me. So there.
5. I believe that the planets watch over us and especially bow to Hiranyagarbha - He who dispenses with lethary and who has a proclivity to dole out life-giving rays and the whole works. And all this, when I wake up at 12 in the afternoon.
6. When I see a train, I HAVE to count the number of bogies. And woe begone the person who interrupts me.
That's that. I know they're more. But I've to think 'bout them and I'm sure I've better things to do. Like look at the stars outside and think of being an astronaut.
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