Ek Gaun Mein Ek Kissan Raghu ThaTha

Posted on June 17, 2011 by

8



“Does your Hindi have a Tamil accent to it?”

I Swear, I don’t know. I had Hindi for 8 years in school and I’ve never tried to speak it so I don’t if I speak it with a Tamil accent.

I guess I don’t, at least I can manage to say “come on yaar” and sound like those Hindi-movie-music listening Chennai girls who can manage to converse decently in Hindi.

I am extremely skeptical to mention “Hindi” in languages known on my resume after having learning it for eight long years and not even knowing dhammathundu of Hindi yet it feels like doing injustice to those eight years of Hindi schooling and attending tuitions only to have the “Ek gaun mein, ek kissan…” result.

My ability to read and write Hindi has so far been useful to me only for writing Sri Rama Jayam just before exams. Speaking Hindi has never gone beyond, “Hiiii……..Kaise Ho?”, “Kya Haal hai” (which I’ve picked up from Bollywood movies than the 8 years of schooling). Even then I get all tensed and worried when they start replying in fluent Hindi—“Ek dham badhiya!Aap kaise hain. Kya chal raha hai….” And then what they say I have no clue. I am already multitasking between comprehending and preparing for a decent answer. And after too many unwarranted nods and formulating and rehearsing my response inside my head, I give my well prepared reply, “Haan, theek hai!”

Chatting in hindi is better. I can think and respond slowly making sure I am grammatically correct.
Despite the different ways of covering up of this shortcoming, there come those embarrassing oh-you-Pandis-don’t-know-Hindi-moments! I remember pronouncing “Saathiya” as “Sathiya” back in middle school and got ragged for it.

Recently, I was discussing where to buy kurtas for men in Chennai with a couple of friends and I wrongly pronounced “Manyavar” as Mann-yah-ver and they got all puzzled and looked at me like I spoke gibberish. Just that evening, we happened to pass by that store and I pointed out to it and they corrected me (politely though) that’s it was to be pronounced as,…oh forget it, I am not taking the risk now, still, I got pink and was wondering, “come on, it couldn’t be all that bad that you don’t even understand what I am talking about it.”. I am sure they were genuinely puzzled, and that’s what makes it even weird. I’m sure I’d manage to understand if someone pronounced a Tamil word badly.

Once at the pani puri stall near the ICAI in Chennai, when I’m in the middle of being mouthfuls, suddenly a big herd of people authoritatively barged into the imaginary circle of existing customers and Hindified with a superiority complex saying “Bhaiya, …….”. I was envisaging myself doing it. Or how funny I would look trying to put my hand over someone’s shoulder saying, “Bathao yaar….”.

The worst scenario is workplace. You know it’s really bad when everyone seems to be friends because they can go “yaar” than “da” at each other and your futile attempts at Hindi become the general topic of discussion between them!

You must understand it. Hindi for some of the non-Hindi speaking-Tamilians is like English for some non-English speaking nationals. It’s a very sensitive shortcoming and we get really embarrassed about our knowledge of Hindi, or rather lack of it.

Phir bhi dosto, hume bus kathor prayas karna padega, hum honge kamyab ek din!

PS-
@Hindi speaking folks- Please don’t tell me that last line was wrong. All rights reserved to me. All wrongs released to Juzer Sadikot, who translated that into Hindi for me :)

@Tamil speaking folks- sathyama ennakum puriyala!

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