My Cambridge English Pronunciation Dictionary tells me that the Gan in Gandhi and rhymes with the Gan in Gander.And so the 'correct' pronunciation is Gan-dee! The same goes for Ganesh too, only worse:it is supposed to be Ganish. I wonder why we Indians don't correct the foreigners.If their tongues can manoeuvre tortures like Alzheimer's or even February, they shouldn't find Gandhi a challenge. But we have let them call Sachin Sash in and condoned the mistake for ages. I've always known that grave dangers lay in store. And my fears were confirmed when at the Oscars Danny Boyle thanked Weak Ass 'Sroop for penning Q and A!! I did not watch the movie but have heard that the man has done enough damage to the name of India.
And we mock the poor Mallu who calls the Pope 'Pop' - at least he makes some sense. Come to think of it, while an Englishman knows only English, a North Indian knows English and Hindi. A South Indian Tamilian knows English Hindi and Tamil and a Mallu knows English, Hindi, Tamil and Malayalam (if not more languages). No wonder we roak.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
The Alarm Clock
If there is one thing worse than being woken up, it is being the Waker. Wakerhood in most households falls to the lot of the lady . The husband and children entrust her with alarming them out of sleep. Why does this have to be an unpleasant duty?
When the kids are babies you waaait for the little bawler's eyelids to droop and close, cover him and tiptoe out to get to your work or some sleep. So waking the child is the last thing you want to do. This instinct to let sleeping brats lie gets etched into your psyche. But as they grow up and need to be woken, it is a joyless duty that one does (ok, next to cooking.) For the child may be a brat all his waking hours, but in sleep he looks adorable, with the tip of his tongue sticking out a little and him curled up like a defenceless chick. Only a diabolic nature could enjoy snatching this little bundle from the arms of slumber.
There are those who would swear by the application of cold water on the sleep-warm visage. But my heart is not stone. It is made of nice soft cardiac muscles of low melting point. One invents ways to make the exercise endurable. In this regard I am quite an expert, having done diligent research and varied experiments. And I submit the findings for posterity.
A day begun in happiness is a happy one throughout. This premise has led me to create what I call the tune technique. In this you treat the sleeper as a musical instrument, select a peppy song, pretend that the keys are in all the ticklish areas of the specimen. Now begin playing the song. The music and laughter will wake without disrupting any body's mood. A word of warning: keep away from kicking distance. This works only with little children.
As the years go by you look for more sedate ways. The next method that I present is perhaps the most pleasurable. You cuddle down close to the sleeping child and stare at him , occasionally murmuring wake words. I swear the stare can physically penetrate sleep. The danger here is that you may yourself fall asleep. And then it is all your fault that the day goes awry.
My quest for novelty continued. And there was this phase of reading rousing poetry like 'Where the mind is without Fear...' or speeches like 'Awake, arise my countrymen'. This , while highly enlightening to the Waker is rather ineffective although one hopes that the words will filter into the sleeping head by some strange osmosis.
Time flies and the Board years are on you. Plans and timetables and tests and marks and tuitions and nerves invade the domestic scene. Sleep for your child is reduced to mere naps. And who else to do the needful? My latest method is to read out the Physics or chemistry that the offspring has planned to study that day. The reading should be bright or dramatic or irritating enough to get him out of bed. A monotone would push the fellow over the edge into the deepest slumber. Of course you risk being surveyed with irritation through most of the day but then you do learn some. How else would I know the delights of supercooled liquids and Huygen's principle?
Next month by this time my son and I will have seen the last of the exams and the last of my wake up calls. An alarm clock will take my place in the exams of his future. The thought comes with a strange pang. I won't be needed like I am now............................................................................
AHA! I spoke too soon. I've just got a message from my daughter from far away Hyderabad:Amma, do me a favr. I need 2 complete 3 asgnmnts & 2 prsntatns. Am taking a nap. cal me in an hr in case my alarm doesnt wake me.
Does anyone know any nice wake up messages??
When the kids are babies you waaait for the little bawler's eyelids to droop and close, cover him and tiptoe out to get to your work or some sleep. So waking the child is the last thing you want to do. This instinct to let sleeping brats lie gets etched into your psyche. But as they grow up and need to be woken, it is a joyless duty that one does (ok, next to cooking.) For the child may be a brat all his waking hours, but in sleep he looks adorable, with the tip of his tongue sticking out a little and him curled up like a defenceless chick. Only a diabolic nature could enjoy snatching this little bundle from the arms of slumber.
There are those who would swear by the application of cold water on the sleep-warm visage. But my heart is not stone. It is made of nice soft cardiac muscles of low melting point. One invents ways to make the exercise endurable. In this regard I am quite an expert, having done diligent research and varied experiments. And I submit the findings for posterity.
A day begun in happiness is a happy one throughout. This premise has led me to create what I call the tune technique. In this you treat the sleeper as a musical instrument, select a peppy song, pretend that the keys are in all the ticklish areas of the specimen. Now begin playing the song. The music and laughter will wake without disrupting any body's mood. A word of warning: keep away from kicking distance. This works only with little children.
As the years go by you look for more sedate ways. The next method that I present is perhaps the most pleasurable. You cuddle down close to the sleeping child and stare at him , occasionally murmuring wake words. I swear the stare can physically penetrate sleep. The danger here is that you may yourself fall asleep. And then it is all your fault that the day goes awry.
My quest for novelty continued. And there was this phase of reading rousing poetry like 'Where the mind is without Fear...' or speeches like 'Awake, arise my countrymen'. This , while highly enlightening to the Waker is rather ineffective although one hopes that the words will filter into the sleeping head by some strange osmosis.
Time flies and the Board years are on you. Plans and timetables and tests and marks and tuitions and nerves invade the domestic scene. Sleep for your child is reduced to mere naps. And who else to do the needful? My latest method is to read out the Physics or chemistry that the offspring has planned to study that day. The reading should be bright or dramatic or irritating enough to get him out of bed. A monotone would push the fellow over the edge into the deepest slumber. Of course you risk being surveyed with irritation through most of the day but then you do learn some. How else would I know the delights of supercooled liquids and Huygen's principle?
Next month by this time my son and I will have seen the last of the exams and the last of my wake up calls. An alarm clock will take my place in the exams of his future. The thought comes with a strange pang. I won't be needed like I am now............................................................................
AHA! I spoke too soon. I've just got a message from my daughter from far away Hyderabad:Amma, do me a favr. I need 2 complete 3 asgnmnts & 2 prsntatns. Am taking a nap. cal me in an hr in case my alarm doesnt wake me.
Does anyone know any nice wake up messages??
Sunday, February 15, 2009
...And Laid Him on the Green
Talking about his farewell party, my son said that his teacher had sung, 'This little shining light of mine, Angle let it shine...'This reminded me that as a little child one of my favourite rhymes was ' Mary Mary koikondery, how does your garden grow?' and my favourite game was 'Ice Boys'. Only years later did I figure out that they were 'Mary, quite contrary' and 'I Spy'. likewise SJ once insisted that his biology teacher taught him about 'edges and shells'. As it turned out the teacher was referring to 'adjacent cells'. Of course everybody has heard the one about a child who shocked his father when he repeated his Math lesson, "2+2, son of a bitch, is 4." It appears that the real words were '2+2, sum of which is 4'! The strangest of all such erronous utterances is my father's. He used to sing us the prayer he chanted as a schoolboy. And it went: Krishna kambi kumbae tudala tudala tudala, timrutha tommy prepae... It was not a strange language - it is English. When decoded it goes: Krishna can be compared to the lord to the lord to the lord. And the rest (timrutha Tommy prepae) still remains a mystery.
I found later that such misunderstood utterances actually have a name; they are called mondegeens . You will find more instances here
I also learned that mondegreens shouldn't be confused with soramimi which is what Benilava is.
I found later that such misunderstood utterances actually have a name; they are called mondegeens . You will find more instances here
I also learned that mondegreens shouldn't be confused with soramimi which is what Benilava is.
Friday, January 30, 2009
A witty Ditty
I found this poem in an old newspaper. Today is Martyrs' Day so I thought I'd share it:
'Hitler and his Black Shirts
riding for a fall,
Musso with his Brown Shirts
Back against the wall,
De Valera with his Green Shirts
caring not at all,
Three cheers to Gandhi
with no shirt at all!'
'Hitler and his Black Shirts
riding for a fall,
Musso with his Brown Shirts
Back against the wall,
De Valera with his Green Shirts
caring not at all,
Three cheers to Gandhi
with no shirt at all!'
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Republic Day Thoughts
Usually the flag hoisting at the Indian Embassy here is early in the morning. We would start out from home before it was fully light, distribute flags for the students to wave, stand in the icy cold desert winter watching and waiting for the ceremony to begin. It felt good to endure the discomfort, reminding me of the extremes that my country men suffer to guard the nation.
Was this year's 9a.m. ceremony symptomatic of something? Besides it was bright and warm too.
The embassy had asked for 25 students from each Indian school. I wasn't surprised to find that no arrangement was made to accommodate them. So all had to squeeze together and try to get a glimpse of what went on. Seeing the tricolour unfurl and flutter, the shouts of Bharat Mata Ki Jai always make me emotional, and in the afterglow I forgot to be annoyed with the officials. I also forgot to frown at the late-comers, important people of the Indian diaspora, who swept in past the barricades to occupy reserved spots, for I was more aware of the 'common ground rather than the differences'(I've just read Mandela).
Hot breakfast distributed free by Mughal Mahal hotel awaited us. The students were given priority and they stood in proper lines - that was good. There are pretty trimmed bushes at the embassy grounds and the base of each was white with discarded plates - that was bad. Reading the India special supplement of the local newspaper was distressing. Some columns said that it was the 59th anniversary while another said that it had completed 60 years of being a republic. One claimed that it was 58 years. Is this confusion a result of thoughtlessness or too much thought?
As the Charge de affaires read out the message to the nation given by the President of India, I overheard a lady say, "Hey he copied it yaar. Same same thing Pratibha Patil said yeshtaarday." I felt nice that Indians did listen to the president's address so closely.
Jai Hind!
Was this year's 9a.m. ceremony symptomatic of something? Besides it was bright and warm too.
The embassy had asked for 25 students from each Indian school. I wasn't surprised to find that no arrangement was made to accommodate them. So all had to squeeze together and try to get a glimpse of what went on. Seeing the tricolour unfurl and flutter, the shouts of Bharat Mata Ki Jai always make me emotional, and in the afterglow I forgot to be annoyed with the officials. I also forgot to frown at the late-comers, important people of the Indian diaspora, who swept in past the barricades to occupy reserved spots, for I was more aware of the 'common ground rather than the differences'(I've just read Mandela).
Hot breakfast distributed free by Mughal Mahal hotel awaited us. The students were given priority and they stood in proper lines - that was good. There are pretty trimmed bushes at the embassy grounds and the base of each was white with discarded plates - that was bad. Reading the India special supplement of the local newspaper was distressing. Some columns said that it was the 59th anniversary while another said that it had completed 60 years of being a republic. One claimed that it was 58 years. Is this confusion a result of thoughtlessness or too much thought?
As the Charge de affaires read out the message to the nation given by the President of India, I overheard a lady say, "Hey he copied it yaar. Same same thing Pratibha Patil said yeshtaarday." I felt nice that Indians did listen to the president's address so closely.
Jai Hind!
Saturday, January 17, 2009
The Test
Breathless sighs
through parted lips,
Eyes half closed,
Moving fingertips.
Bite marks
Scratches
Swish of sheets.
Sweat and stain
As bodies strain.
A secret smile
Aah - that's good!
tick tock
tick tock
urgent haste
tick tock
tick tock
faster faster...
screaming bells
and then release
Socks to pull
And strings to tie
As pens are shut
secretions dry.
through parted lips,
Eyes half closed,
Moving fingertips.
Bite marks
Scratches
Swish of sheets.
Sweat and stain
As bodies strain.
A secret smile
Aah - that's good!
tick tock
tick tock
urgent haste
tick tock
tick tock
faster faster...
screaming bells
and then release
Socks to pull
And strings to tie
As pens are shut
secretions dry.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Greetings
Happy New Year!
Hope 2009 will offer peace and stability in the world.
On the personal front, I feel excited about starting out on new ventures.
Incidentally it is also my blog's first birthday. The result of my daughter's persistence, This and That has given me satisfaction. Not being the most systematic person, I used to write stuff and leave them around. Thanks to T&T, they are nicely kept together.
I also got to meet many people and more importantly, new perspectives. I made friends and even frightened (albeit unintended) at least one away [ in my daughter's words 'pissed him off'- (very expressive)- something I've never done in real life. ] I roped some of my students into the writing circle as well.
The blog has been great for my ego (or is it vanity?) too. I even received a very exclusive award (not the usual forwarded and 'foreworded' kind) which had an impact that the prize giver could not have imagined.
I've been asked about the name Materialmom. My identity as a mother keeps me safe and gets me respect automatically. And Material is opposed to spiritual. Also the Material girl keeps re-inventing herself. My blog has done that for me. The thoughts on this blog are my brainchildren and hence I am their Materialmom.
My! I do sound like a teacher, don't I? Sorreee
Hope 2009 will offer peace and stability in the world.
On the personal front, I feel excited about starting out on new ventures.
Incidentally it is also my blog's first birthday. The result of my daughter's persistence, This and That has given me satisfaction. Not being the most systematic person, I used to write stuff and leave them around. Thanks to T&T, they are nicely kept together.
I also got to meet many people and more importantly, new perspectives. I made friends and even frightened (albeit unintended) at least one away [ in my daughter's words 'pissed him off'- (very expressive)- something I've never done in real life. ] I roped some of my students into the writing circle as well.
The blog has been great for my ego (or is it vanity?) too. I even received a very exclusive award (not the usual forwarded and 'foreworded' kind) which had an impact that the prize giver could not have imagined.
I've been asked about the name Materialmom. My identity as a mother keeps me safe and gets me respect automatically. And Material is opposed to spiritual. Also the Material girl keeps re-inventing herself. My blog has done that for me. The thoughts on this blog are my brainchildren and hence I am their Materialmom.
My! I do sound like a teacher, don't I? Sorreee
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