Wednesday, April 8, 2009


sick smurf

I fell sick after a long time. Not that I wanted to fall sick, but I have spent the better part of last 2 weeks confined to a bed and my life revolved around doses of bitter medicines and unpleasant visits to doctors.

    I remember the first day well. I felt my face burning coupled with a dull throbbing in my head. I knew I was unwell and I was surprised. I did not eat outside, nor did I binge on ice creams or did anything of that sorts. But there I was at the doctor’s doorstep begging her to relieve me of my misery.

I don’t know what prompted her to say so, but she said, “Let’s wait for three days, if the fever does not subside, then it’s malaria.”

The mere mention of the dreaded word was morbid enough and now the Doctor was mysteriously advising me against a blood test.

For two days, I was recuperating well and I was beginning to bless my fortunes that it was not malaria. For a cruel twist of fate, on the third day I felt feverish. It was a sense of déjà vu, my face was burning and I was blinded by the headache. It seemed that all the energy was sucked out of me. So, I found myself dragging my battered body back to the doctor’s clinic. The doctor had already left for the day. Everybody suggested to consult a different doctor, but I was pretty adamant. I was not sure if the other doctor would understand our three day pact.

But waiting for the next day seemed impossible. I explained my mum why was it necessary to see the same doctor and she agreed to my reasoning. Fifteen minutes later, I was at the doorstep of a different doctor. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, I was finally granted the Doctor’s audience. Condescendingly, he told me it was not Malaria, but a severe bout of viral fever.

I was happy to have dodged the M-word. Yet, I was sorely tempted to draw my will and transfer all my debts and loans to my well wishers.  Every night I used to go to sleep hoping that the drudgery would end the next morning. Alas, I used to wake up alive the next day and with the same horrible weakness and blinding headache.

             Since the last 4-5 days, I have regained my strength and my zest to live a little longer. I am not in a hurry to draw my will anymore. And I am happy that my cries for an end to my sufferings went unheeded.

God is indeed great!! Heheheh!! :D :D

Monday, April 6, 2009

Mind ‘your’ Language..!

The other day I was watching a news item that featured a young girl talking in some regional language. She then said,in English, that around 43 languages in India face extinction and that she was trying to save hers and exhorting us to do the same.

‘Forty three??’  I wondered.

For all the languages we have in India, 43 did not seem too significant a number then. My Mum was watching the advertisement as well. She seemed visibly upset about it.

“I don’t understand why do people consider it cool to not know their language.”

I knew what would follow next. Mum started her customary rant about all the young TV anchors on Sun TV (Mum’s favourite Tamil Channel) speaking poor Tamil. For once, I can’t disagree with her. Tamil TV anchors nowadays sport an anglicized accent when speaking Tamil. It sounds very weird and artificial. The common man can never relate to this kind of language.

The other day, I was watching Rahul Bose’s interview when my friend dropped in.

“I love his style of speaking Hindi.” He said. “He sounds so educated.”

I was appalled. Rahul Bose, with all due respect to him, speaks Hindi in an anglicized tone. He does appear western educated in that sense.

I couldn’t help but ask, “So, does Amitabh Bachchan sound uneducated to you? Or AB Vajpayee?”

They speak such fantastic Hindi and it’s always a joy to listen to them.

He replied that they sounded too Indian and hence, were not as impressive as Rahul Bose.

      For all the people harping about Marathi pride and how regionalist they’ve become, I know of so many people who find it demeaning to speak Marathi at home or anywhere. Same is the case with the people who considered to be proud of their language – Tamils and Bengalis. 

            On my part, I don’t know what enticed me towards learning Urdu but yes, I am making an effort towards learning Urdu and improving my Hindi. I have fallen in love with Urdu and find it to be bewitchingly poetic. I don’t bring this up anywhere because people snigger at me for learning something so not-so-cool.

               But still, these are the same people who will brag to any westerner about the rich Indian culture and the diversity it offers. I have seen so many people brag about the sheer number of languages that India has and when the Westerner marvels, they smile benignly. But when it comes to speaking their own language, they draw a zero.

I’ll shoot them someday!

I really will.