India, English and Hinglish

Editor’s Choice: Funny Short Story – India, English and Hinglish

There cannot be a better model of a place for education, namely “Speedy Spoken English Center” that I ran for three consecutive years to impart training in fluency in English.

“Sir, how soon the English will come frequently”-

this is the first salvo fired by a female student?  She wanted to know within what time limit she could achieve fluency in the language. She was twenty one and already stepped inside the time zone that could set the wedding bell ringing at any time. She was a graduate and yearned heartily to bag a job and save money, payable in her marriage as dowry.

My father advised me to keep restraint while teaching the language.

“Mind your language while you teach this funny language. Do not lose temper”- I nodded as he finished his words.

Once, the lady living next door- real buxom and mother of four children- appeared at my door with an unusual request.

“How much do you charge for teaching English, Sir jee”- she asked baring her teeth?

But this time, she wanted a unique favor.

“Do not tell anyone Sir jee, I will pay you the double”- I heard spreading my eyes in disbelief as she narrated her demand.

“I need a strong vocabulary of matching slangs that my husband makes use while beating me”- she was narrating in a low but quivering voice.

“Give an example”- I extended my request, muffling it in the warmth of my voice.

She remained merged in her thoughts for a while and then began giving an account.

“He is really short-tempered and his body language gets nasty at the start of beating”- She narrated within her sighs.

“Bloody b**ch, get out of my sight. Otherwise I will kick your ass out of the room. What can be the riposte for this sentence, Sir jee”- I watched her growing interest in awkward silence.

“But tell me about the things that happen next”- I mumbled the words presuming the pathetic condition of the lady, who wanted to stage a fight in matching slangs.

“Simple Jee, he catches at my neck and begins landing kicks on my buttocks, ultimately dragging and shoving me out of the room”- the lady looked flustered while she answered my question.

“Hmm… a difficult case, you must get into a fitting combative mood with matching verbal and physical exchanges. Let me think about it”- I said, pretending to be in a real introspection about her case.

“What is this ass? I do not find it in the dictionaries, although I looked for it in four of them. I am an M.A. in Hindi Sir jee”-she said with a slightly pale expression.

“There it is given from Hindi to English that it means a gadha– donkey”- I listened to her, suppressing the outbreak of a guffaw.

“If he means that I am a donkey and he intends to throw me out, then what would I say in reply”- I heard her inquisition with my mouth agape.

“You can say something meaning he is a monkey and you wish to set his tail on fire”- I replied with a wave of hand. Anyway, I failed to sum up courage to say bluntly in her face the real meaning of “ass”.

“Yeah, just translate a few lines from Hindi to English so that the fight will get some momentum along with our pitched voices”- She said in a voice, bustling with energy.

The next morning, I was all ears, when the buxom bristled with rage in duet of invectives with her husband.

“B**ch, would you like some tasty kicks on your ass?””- I really had to praise her husband’s power to coin words to make the language serve its efficacy.

“You, Spanish baboon, keep your dirty hands off me. Otherwise I would burn your tail and feed it to the dogs”- The lady was perfectly matching steps as she brought out a can full of kerosene, dangling a matchbox in front of her husband.

“Words of mouth must match with the language of the body”- I remember, telling her this exact truth as the last teaching of the last class.

In the succeeding classes, she redoubled her zeal as well as efforts without caring for the bruises on her face from the fight.

“Now, I give equally to him; just tit for tat, Sir jee”- I was trembling to see her tight fists.

Soon, I got the news that she laid her husband flat like a pancake on the floor in a nonstop heavyweight bout of verbal and physical exchanges. Her husband tumbled down like a pin on the floor when she landed the fiercest blow below his torso in the knock-out match at their home.

She appeared in her victorious spirit at my door-step and broke out- “Sir Jee, now the score is settled. From now onwards, he will keep his hands off me”.  I was almost on the verge of wetting my pants as I watched her livid mien.

Let me finish this account with the story of the no-good teenager, who stayed in the lane behind my house. He was Pintu, who fell headlong in love with the girl, staying his next-door.

The brilliant girl had a brother Chintu, who was known for his excellent grades in martial art.

Pintu desired to steal the affection of sister of  Chintu and therefore made up his mind to alter his thoughts into English.

How could he write that how earnestly he desired to get her love?

He pondered for awhile and scribbled on a piece of paper- “My sweet heart, how can I express the ever surfacing tides of love in my heart for you”?

“You just cannot believe how sincerely I want to love you…love you ….and go on making love to you”- Pintu had forgotten to consult with me while penning down this last sentence as  I only dictated the rest of the sentences in his love letter. Let me tell you, he had unwittingly committed the mistake because from his part, he wanted to continue the loop of love for ever. His poor grasp of the language and above all Hinglish landed him in the soup.

Pintu tied a piece of brick with this letter and threw it to the roof of her house, carefully enough to land it near the window of her room. Next day as he came to his roof, he was delighted to find a piece of paper, neatly tied to a piece of brick.  He almost jumped in joy when he opened it.

“Darling, come anytime to our terrace after evening. I will be waiting with open arms”- Declared the italicized handwriting.

Pintu carefully climbed the wall of her house and was panting when he reached the roof.

She stood there, smiling. As he was approaching her to cuddle in his arms, she yelled- “Brother Chintu, there comes your guest”!!!

Chintu came out from somewhere with his outstretched arms.

I almost emptied a tube of ointment on the bruises on Pintu’s body as he came gasping for breath. He could never have gone to his house in that horrible condition.

“What the hell has happened to you? Who made all this to you”- I caught him  from reeling down on floor.

“Pintu, English is a funny language. Do not you remember, I told you to show it to me before you add anything fresh and dash it to someone’s roof ?”- I offered a glass of cool water as the compensation for the aftermath of beating.

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