A Touchy Movement

Some time ago, I got a forwarded mail that was just so, so wrong. There is no other way to describe it. Let's have a look, shall we?

Disclaimer 1: Personal Details masked, because I don't want to be hunted down and killed by a touching* Systems Analyst.

Disclaimer 2: I have *nothing* against Systems Analysts. They're delightful people. Most of the time.

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<quote>

Hi Friend

One more touchy movement

I like to share some thing. Like every day I start early for bang-6, When I reached bommanhalli  bus stop, I saw a lady, she is not able to stand properly, look like she is sick, people are watch her but know body came to help her. I was not able to understand what she is asking (talking in Kannada). One girl come to me and asks about her. We ask one auto person to drop her to BTM. He agreed but when he saw the leady without saying he run away, I was looking for another auto, Girl was having conversation with leady and she took out big money and gave to leady without any hesitation, Till that time able to get another Auto. We finally board her to auto.

You know who that girl is, she is one of <company name masked> HR.  (I did not asked her name)

I saw people to help other but most of them from <company name masked>  It always makes me to feel proud to be part of ‘<company name masked>’

Such incidents always touch me, my sole, Humanities is still there in world. 

Friends – if we cannot become like SUN, at least  we should like Candle.  

Thanks and Regards,
****** ***** *****
_________________________________________________
Systems Analyst
<company name masked>, Bangalore, India
É +91 80 ********* , *********** È +91 ***********
? ***********@********.***
MSN/AOL -**********/********* 

<unquote>

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Amazing. A truly transcendental experience, reading this...thing.

Let's wade right into the morass.

• "Touchy" --> "Touchy" means "irritable"...what he really meant was "touching" but of course, this is just the beginning, and really, this is great in the face of what's coming.
• "touchy movement" --> Good Lord.
• "people are watch her but know body came to help her" --> What this person talking about knowbody really knows, no?
• "We ask one auto person to drop her to BTM" --> The one reasonably correct sentence in this Pool of Misery. In fact, the others are so horrifying that this one shines like a diamond.
• "We finally board her to auto." --> What does this mean? Really? Yeah, I know that he's TRYING to say that they got the "leady" into the auto, but really that sentence(...if you can call it that.) is straight out of an English teacher's nightmare.
• "It always makes me to feel proud" --> I no, we all make us to feel so proud that Systems Analyst is making type this much in English, know?
• "Such incidents always touch me, my sole, Humanities is still there in world" --> They touch his "sole". The underside of his foot. And he's very grateful for all the Humanities courses in the world, of course.
• "Friends – if we cannot become like SUN, at least  we should like Candle." --> I hear this is a big problem nowadays, people hating candles.

And, the most horrifying part.

• Systems Analyst --> that would mean a reasonably senior member of a multinational giant. 

But then again, I guess he gets. it. done. 

Without talking.

Hopefully.

An Interview With A Konkani

Everytime I get a phone call from home, I usually end up freaking out a friend/bystander, because I'm speaking a strange language, which sounds like it came from beyond the Himalayas. Which usually leads to the following inquisition.

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Q: What was that??

A: That was the Konkani language. I'm a Konkani. 

Q: You're a what?

A: A Konkani. That means that I speak the language, and that I am a part of a very exclusive group. Hah! Bet you didn't know Deepika Padukone was one of us. Or Vijay Mallya.

Q: You have a separate language for yourself?

A: Yes, we do. And unless you are one of us, I don't think you'll understand a word of it. If you know Marathi, you might understand some of the words, and this works both ways. I can understand some Marathi.

Q: So say something in your language.

A: No! Besides, you'd either squawk or keel over laughing. You're not ready yet. 

Q: Ah. So how did you learn it?

A: The same way you learnt your Hindi/Malayalam/Tamil. I learnt it from everyone at home speaking it.

Q: Waitaminnit. So you don't speak Malayalam at home?

A: No. I'm not a Malayali.

Q: How does that work? Aren't you from Kerala?

A: No, I'm not a Malayali, if that's what you mean.

Q: So where are you from?

A: Sigh. I'm from Kerala, but I'm not a Malayali.

Q: Er.......

A: It could be, and I'm just taking a wild stab in the dark here, that my ancestors settled down in Kerala?

Q: Ohhhh. So where are you really from?

A: Goa. All Konkanis are originally from Goa. But they spread out across the coast, primarily to avoid persecution at the hands of the Portuguese invaders. Yeah, those times. That's how far away my Goan connection is.

Q: Whoa, so you are, in a way, Goan.

A: Not really, I probably wouldn't understand a word in Goan Konkani.

Q: There are types?

A: Yeah. We are spread out across the Konkan Coast. Starting from Goa, we settled down in Maharashtra, Karnataka and pockets in Kerala. I am from the small group that reached Cochin.

Q: So how are all of them different?

A: Well, each of these regions had an influence on our way of speaking. You will see a pronounced difference in the way a Mangalorean and a Kochikkar speak, even though they are speaking the same language. The words are mostly the same, but somewhere in between, a word with heavy local influence will pop up and confusion will reign.

For example, "sugar". Kochi Konkanis call it "paindhaar", obvious influence of the Mallu word for sugar "panjasaara". The Mangaloreans call it "sakkar", which is more of a Marathi influence, I guess. So when a Mangalorean asks a Kochikkar if he wants "sakkar" in his coffee, the other will probably say no, "paindhaar" is fine.

Q: Whew. Complicated language.

A: Don't you guys have dialects? Do you understand every version of Hindi/Malayalam/Tamil? It's the same thing.

Q: So your Mom and Dad are both Konkanis?

A: Yes. My dad is from Kochi and, mom from Mangalore.

Q: Tell me something in Konkani?

A: Like what? Do NOT say "My name is ........."

Q: Dammit. Ok, how do you say "I want something to eat."?

A: Are you sure you're ready for this?

Q: Yeah. Absolutely. Bring it on.

A: Now, when I say it you do NOT keel over laughing.

Q: Oh. Ok?

A: "Makka ittheyi khanvchaak jaai."

Q: Wha?! What IS that?

A: Yes, that is how we speak.

Q: Explain the words in that.

A: Makka - "For me" 

ittheyi - spoken with a nasal tone - means "anything"/"something"

khanvchaak - again, the n denotes a nasal tone - means "to eat"

jaayi - "want".

Q: Whoa.

A: Yeah, whoa.

Q: So you guys are like this totally different culture and everything?

A: Well again, a lot of regional influence, but yeah we have our own temples, our own customs and traditions, our own diet, our own way of talking.

Q: What kinda diet?

A: Konkani dishes are, well, different. For example, any Kochi Konkani worth his "meett" (salt) must have tried the Pathrodo, atleast once in his life. So what is it? It's a kind of roll, made out of Colocasia leaves. I'm pretty sure that   no-one had any idea you could actually eat that stuff till we turned up, and tadaaa.

Q: Ah. Interesting. So about your name, "Bhat". Is that a common Konkani name?

A: Yes. "Shenoy", "Pai", "Kamath", "Prabhu" are some of the others. A "Bhat" is usually a priest. As was was my great-grandfather. My grandfather was the first in my family to pursue a career outside of priesthood. These surnames were usually indicative of the person's trade in the "days of yore". Like a "bhat" being a priest, a "Prabhu" was usually a landlord, "Pai"s were businessmen (yeah, we are genetically inclined towards it), and the "Mallan"s/"Mallya"s were , well, bodybuilders.

Q: So you could be a priest?

A: Technically, yes.

Q: Do you know all the rituals and everything?

A: No, which is why I'm not one. But after my upanayanam, I used to do the morning pooja at my house.

Q: Upanayanam? What is that?

A: That is the Thread Ceremony. It signifies that the person is now truly a Brahmin.

Q: You're a Brahmin? Then how come you eat meat?

A: Er, why not? I believe, "faith" should be in the mind, not the stomach.

Q: Ah. Wow, interesting.

A: Aren't we all?

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Secretly, I love freaking people out like that. It's fun to see the double-takes, and faces with that "/:S" expression when they hear me speak. Like Ashan says "the language from before God's existence".

But undoubtedly, the funniest came last Republic Day Celebrations at the hospital where my dad works. My sister and I were watching the proceedings from the back, and talking to each other in Konkani. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the guard trying to make sense, and miserably failing to do so. Finally, he decided he couldn't take any more, and leaned over to ask, in patchy Hindi, "Kidhar ka aadmi hai?" ("Where are you from?"), Mallu accent and all. "Ivide okke thanne ullatha, chettaa" ("I'm from around these parts."), I replied, in perfect Malayalam. The double-take and the sheepish laugh? Priceless.