We Asians have a very peculiar relationship with the language of our former colonial masters. On the one hand, we have enriched it with many words and phrases that the English now innocently imagine to be their very own: pundit, khaki, toddy, etc on the other hand our uniquely creative handling of English vocabulary and grammar is like a quiet revenge. Here are a few examples.
Whenever he travelled by train, the Railway Member of the Viceroy’s Executive Council in India, in the days of the Raj, had a special saloon for himself and his family and additional compartments for his staff - the cook, dhobi and dhoban (washerman and washerwoman), barbers, waiters, all accompanied him. At every stop the local station master reported to the Railway Member, saluted and said, “Sahib, hukum” (any orders?).
Of course, sometimes when the train stopped the staff would get out to stretch their legs; and it happened that once the washerwoman got left behind at one of the stations. At the next stop, when the station master duly reported to the Member, he was told that the washerwoman should be sent by the first train to Delhi. The resourceful station master sent a telegram and produced a copy for the Member, which read, “Member Sahib’s woman left at Kanpur station. Send her by first train to Delhi.” The Railway Member replied, “No, no sta¬tion master, not Sahib’s woman; Sahib’s washerwoman.”
In a jiffy the station master was back with a copy of another telegram. It read: “Reference telegram. Please insert washer between Sahib and woman.”
Maybe there is something about railways and the English language. Scene: the ticket office in a railway station, somewhere in England.
Man at head of long queue: Ten tickets to Jeopardy, please. Ticket officer: Where? Man in queue: Jeopardy.
Ticket officer: There’s no such place, mate.
Man: There is, there is, look it up in your book.
Ticket officer (thumbing through ‘J’ in the railway guide)-. I told you so, there’s no such place.
Man: Of course, there is, give me my tickets.
Ticket officer: Look here, mate, my job is to sell tickets. I’ll sell you all the tickets you want, but I have to know the destination. I tell you, there’s no such place as Jeopardy. Where did you get the name of the station from?
Man (triumphantly producing the evening newspaper and flourishing the headline)-. "Ten Thousand Jobs in Jeopardy!”
The poor chap was taking the whole family before all those jobs got snapped up.
And talking of trains, I overheard this conversation in a railway carriage, between two fellows who struck up a conversation in a pretty typical desi way. 1st man: What’s your name?
2nd man: ...
1st man: Are you married? 2nd man: Yes.
1st man: Do you have any children? 2nd man: No.
1st man: Why not?
2nd man (a bit embarrassed)-. You see, my wife is impregnable.
1st man (baffled)-. What do you mean? 2nd man (slightly flustered)-. You know, she is unbearable.
1st man: What?
2nd man (determined to make himself understood by this fellow who didn’t understand plain English)-. You know, she is inconceivable. <
But of course, it wasn’t only the English language that we had an equivocal relationship with. In the “good old days”, when Britain still had an empire, there was a well-known phrase that claimed, “The sun never sets on the British Empire”. A geography teacher in India decided to test his class on the meaning of this adage. One bright fel¬low’s hand shot up. “Because the Lord doesn’t trust the British in the dark!”
Maybe it was the same cheeky student who got a hiding for his adaptation of the English proverb “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”. Here is his version:
When I was young and starting life
I knew a certain doctor’s wife
I ate an apple every day
To keep the doctor man away!
I think he knew very well how to handle the English language; but my next fellow was a bit less sure of himself. His mother had died, and he had to submit the stan¬dard written application to his employer for compassionate leave; so he asked the office head clerk, who was supposed to be an expert in these things, for help. As the acting manager of his department, I was the one who had to deal with his request, and though this incident happened fifty years ago, I remember the words to this day:
“Dear Sir,” he wrote. “An extremely grave situation has arisen, whereby it has become imperative that the undersigned be granted leave, for reasons appended below.” By now I was thinking that this chap must imagine he was writing to the India Office in London at the very least, so formal was his style. But then came his reason: “The hand that rocked the cradle has kicked the bucket.”
The English left us the legacy of their legal system, too. In India they created a cadre of honorary magistrates, whose appointments were made on the basis of local influence and service to the British Raj. Competence had very little to do with it. I remember a case where a fellow was prosecuted for illicitly distilling alcohol. He’d got wind of the impending, raid on his premises, so he had managed to get rid of all the alcohol, and the raw materials, but it was a bit more difficult to dispose of the still itself. His defence lawyer argued that making liquor was an offense; owning a still was not. The honorary magistrate, however convicted him and handed down a sentence of six months, on the basis that even though no alcohol was actual found on the premises - he was in possession of the necessary equipment. No six months was the maximum sentence these magistrates were empowered to give but the lawyer then said, “Your Worship, why don’t you give him ten years?” The magistrate was amazed; defence lawyer asking for a longer sentence? He’d never heard of such a thing, and he retorted, “Whatever are you thinking of? The crime committed carries a maximum sentence of six month. On what basis do you suggest he should receive ten years?” The lawyer replied, “It’s easy, all you have to do is convict him of rape.” Said the magistrate, “Br this is absurd. As far as I know, he hasn’t committed any rape.” “No,” explained the lawyer, “but, he has the necessary equipment.
I don’t think there are any laws about mother-in-law-ism. Perhaps there should be. Listen to these two chaps: 1st man: My mother-in-law is an angel. 2nd man (bitterly)’. You’re lucky. Mine is alive.
And talking of marital relations here’s a young fellow who had his priorities very clear when he placed ai advertisement in the matrimonial columns of the local paper:
Young farmer, 27, wants to marry girl aged 20 to 25. Must own tractor. Pleas« send picture of tractor.
I hope he will not end up like that Englishman at a party, who was asked by a fellow guest making polite conversation, “Who introduced you to you: wife?” He replied dolefully, ‘We just met, I do not blame anybody.
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