Bhaisaab Phancy Dress!
People who keep themselves abreast with the postings on this blog, bright people that they are… bright because they keep coming back here… must have figured out by now that Gokhaleites are a somewhat different breed.
Darwin probably had us in mind when he spoke of the survival of the fittest.
Be that as it may, this posting is about language. All great civilizations have developed their own culture, their own rituals, their own traditions, and their own language. Enough has been said about the highly advanced rituals followed at Gokhale, but a word is now in order about our very own vernacular.
Like I said earlier, we Gokhaleites are made of stuff that is inherently different from the majority. We do things differently, and given we are who we are, we do them better.
So when we got around to figuring that we need to develop a language of our own, we went and plagiarized most of it.
The original committee that sat in on the deliberations whenever they happened in Gokhale… there is a committee for everything in Gokhale – I’m amazed we don’t have a Blog Committee yet… ran a couple of regressions, took a couple of surveys, drank a couple of bottles of beer each and decided that Gokhalese must have as it’s base a mixture of English and Hindi.
They quarreled after that, and didn’t speak to each other for two months, like all good committee members should, but they got that one bit right.
Ever since then, Gokhalese has been a loose mixture of English and Hindi.
Don’t, for even a nonce, think of ringing in a protest about how that is true of every place in India. We, dear reader, we do things differently.
You see, most of the people who make Gokhale their abode are admirably equipped in either one of the two languages that make up Gokhalese. Very rarely do you find somebody who can get by equally well in both tongues.
And that, in as insane a place as Gokhale, is a recipe for disaster.
Consider, for example, the following:
Anil Jacob Abraham, one of the stalwarts from my batch, was once reprimanded by somebody. He was told in no uncertain terms, sans a couple of expletives: “Jacobe, keede mat kar!”
All perfectly clear, right? We’re on the level here?
So somebody asks him to repeat whatever it was that was said to him.
In Hindi.
Big mistake.
The Good Lord, you see, has equipped Mals with most things in life. But the most rudimentary understanding of Hindi… that, somehow, cannot be retrofitted onto the Mal DNA code. So Jacob came up with the following:
“He said ‘Don’t do insects’”.
Be kind to him. Don’t laugh too hard. Factually, our man is on solid ground.
In a nutshell though, that is how we’ve built up our language here at Gokhale.
Words, phrases, idioms have been painstakingly collected over booze parties, quarrels, conversations and lectures, and over time, assimilated into the linguistic joy that is Gokhale.
Particular instances are too many to mention, and it pains to leave out some of them, so I won’t treat you to a linguistic tour-de-force of our tongue, but I must conclude with a word that has grown into a symbol here at Gokhale. I’ve heard of it’s usage in other places, and I do not claim originality, but it’s a word that is dear to me.
So balls.
Read on.
Because.
What a fantastic word. What an awesome reply. What a riposte.
It covers anything and everything. Whenever you’re confronted with an insurmountable problem, whenever bamboos start queuing up outside your derriere, whenever you seem to have the weight of the world upon your shoulders… all you do is shrug philosophically, smile a wintry smile and say in response to that painful “Why?”… “Because.”
It must be said properly, people. It must have an air of finality around it, and yet be without reproach. It can’t have cynicism, and it can’t sound bitter. Say it quietly, confidently, and the true meaning shall reveal itself.
“Because.”
The usual caveat applies.
The true meaning is revealed far quicker if a chilled pint of Mallya’s best is used in conjunction.
Darwin probably had us in mind when he spoke of the survival of the fittest.
Be that as it may, this posting is about language. All great civilizations have developed their own culture, their own rituals, their own traditions, and their own language. Enough has been said about the highly advanced rituals followed at Gokhale, but a word is now in order about our very own vernacular.
Like I said earlier, we Gokhaleites are made of stuff that is inherently different from the majority. We do things differently, and given we are who we are, we do them better.
So when we got around to figuring that we need to develop a language of our own, we went and plagiarized most of it.
The original committee that sat in on the deliberations whenever they happened in Gokhale… there is a committee for everything in Gokhale – I’m amazed we don’t have a Blog Committee yet… ran a couple of regressions, took a couple of surveys, drank a couple of bottles of beer each and decided that Gokhalese must have as it’s base a mixture of English and Hindi.
They quarreled after that, and didn’t speak to each other for two months, like all good committee members should, but they got that one bit right.
Ever since then, Gokhalese has been a loose mixture of English and Hindi.
Don’t, for even a nonce, think of ringing in a protest about how that is true of every place in India. We, dear reader, we do things differently.
You see, most of the people who make Gokhale their abode are admirably equipped in either one of the two languages that make up Gokhalese. Very rarely do you find somebody who can get by equally well in both tongues.
And that, in as insane a place as Gokhale, is a recipe for disaster.
Consider, for example, the following:
Anil Jacob Abraham, one of the stalwarts from my batch, was once reprimanded by somebody. He was told in no uncertain terms, sans a couple of expletives: “Jacobe, keede mat kar!”
All perfectly clear, right? We’re on the level here?
So somebody asks him to repeat whatever it was that was said to him.
In Hindi.
Big mistake.
The Good Lord, you see, has equipped Mals with most things in life. But the most rudimentary understanding of Hindi… that, somehow, cannot be retrofitted onto the Mal DNA code. So Jacob came up with the following:
“He said ‘Don’t do insects’”.
Be kind to him. Don’t laugh too hard. Factually, our man is on solid ground.
In a nutshell though, that is how we’ve built up our language here at Gokhale.
Words, phrases, idioms have been painstakingly collected over booze parties, quarrels, conversations and lectures, and over time, assimilated into the linguistic joy that is Gokhale.
Particular instances are too many to mention, and it pains to leave out some of them, so I won’t treat you to a linguistic tour-de-force of our tongue, but I must conclude with a word that has grown into a symbol here at Gokhale. I’ve heard of it’s usage in other places, and I do not claim originality, but it’s a word that is dear to me.
So balls.
Read on.
Because.
What a fantastic word. What an awesome reply. What a riposte.
It covers anything and everything. Whenever you’re confronted with an insurmountable problem, whenever bamboos start queuing up outside your derriere, whenever you seem to have the weight of the world upon your shoulders… all you do is shrug philosophically, smile a wintry smile and say in response to that painful “Why?”… “Because.”
It must be said properly, people. It must have an air of finality around it, and yet be without reproach. It can’t have cynicism, and it can’t sound bitter. Say it quietly, confidently, and the true meaning shall reveal itself.
“Because.”
The usual caveat applies.
The true meaning is revealed far quicker if a chilled pint of Mallya’s best is used in conjunction.
1 comment:
Perfecto!... And that shall always remain...
Because.
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