Learning Indian (1)

Being an account of how I came to accidentally ask a waiter if he had an erection,

First, a factoid. There is no one Indian language; Hindi is spoken by about 20% of the population (mainly in the northern states), but across India there are hundreds of different languages spoken as a mother tongue. In a similar way to how different languages in Europe all use the Roman script because they have their origins in Latin, the official languages of the northern states have their roots in Sanskrit, whereas those of the south have a common Dravidian base. Bombay and Pune are cities in the state of Maharashtra, where the state language is Marathi.

Sitting in the hostel canteen last night I was served dinner by a boy who couldn't stop grinning. My new friends Sid and Vicious, two south Indian students staying in the hostel, suggested he was grinning because he knew I couldn't communicate with him. Au contraire, says I; earlier I asked him "kiti wasta?" and pointed at my mouth. Sid and Vicious look at each other. "What does kiti wasta mean?" asks Sid. "It means 'what time?' in Marathi," I reply coolly. "Well we don't know Marathi, and he probably doesn't either, because he's from Karnataka," Vicious laughs.

Later I tell them about an incident that happened at lunch. "So I'm in this restaurant eating Khichdi Kadi, and I want to practice my Hindi, so I ask the waiter 'kya yaha kadi hai?' and he gives me this weird look like he's trying not to smile, and he calls another waiter over, so I repeat the question and they both burst out laughing and walk away." Sid and Vicious burst out laughing. Sid tells me the phrase has two meanings; Vicious explains that while 'kadi' is a spicy sauce served with khichdi, if the pronunciation isn't spot-on it could be misheard as 'khada', the verb 'to stand'. Which is also slang for 'erection'. So, Vicious explains, while I thought I was saying 'is this kadi?', the waiters may have heard 'is this standing?', or, 'do you have an erection?'

Pune

I travelled to Pune by coach yesterday, my linguistic deficiencies compensated by my luck and ability to get friendly middle-class Indians to help me at both ends of the trip. The Bombay end was a bit hectic, as several agents for coaches to Pune all operate from stalls right next to each other at Dadar station, and when I arrived there several guys ran to drag me and my kit out of the taxi and towards their stalls. A bit of British stiff upper lip and a couple of determined cries of "Nahi! Nahi!" saw them off. Young scallywags. What-ho.

Then at the other end I easily got a rickshaw to the hostel where I will be staying for the next week. I got settled in, and then suddenly realised I didn't have the fan on and that I wasn't sweating. Such a situation would never arise in Bombay. Pune is further inland than Bombay and located at a higher altitude in the Western Ghats (foothills): hence the more European climate. Also it isn't surrounded on three sides by the sea, like Bombay, and doesn't attract thousands of immigrants/economic refugees from other parts of India every day, like Bombay. As a result there is a bit more space to breathe (and air - a day of just breathing in the air in Bombay is equivalent to smoking two and a half packs of cigarettes). So Pune is a healthier city, and cheaper to live in. But I think it lacks the energy of Bombay; there doesn't seem to be the same dynamism and variety here that results from Bombay's magnetic attraction to people and businesses from inside and outside India. Maybe it will grow on me.

One

So I'm in Mumbai and alive and well, so far.

I walked out the airport at 5am this morning, and at about the time I got in the taxi it suddenly hit me how much I loved India when I was here in 2005. It's something I can't explain. I know it's almost all to do with the people; India is her people. Anyway I got to my hotel ok, jumped in the shower, and then headed out. Saw my first sacred cow within a few minutes, and took the time to introduce myself. Hi, I'm Brendan, I'm new in the neighbourhood. Do you come here often? She didn't seem interested in talking though so I moved on, and soon saw more sacred cows and an elephant.

I'm not the same boy who arrived in Mumbai for the first time two years ago, but the senses pick up the same things. That mix of smells: chai, rotting vegetation, excrement, exhaust, damp heat, and the stuff they burn on the street for whatever they burn that stuff on the street for. And the food-related fear came back. I bought some bottled water, opened it, examined the seal and discarded it as it was covered in tiny white moving things. The next bottle I bought was fine. Then I bought some kind of cleansing lotion to wipe my hands before eating, and eno sachets in case there was a problem in the food itself. These preparations in place, I found a suitable restaurant, found a dish I recognised on the menu, and negotiated it with the Marathi-speaking waiter. Alu paratha (potato pancake with vegetables in it) with curd. Better than anything I've tasted in an Indian restaurant in England in the past two years. For lunch I gorged myself on a Gujarati Thali (a thali is a huge metal plate food is served on; ordering a thali is ordering an ongoing relationship with a waiter who brings more and more food just as you think you're winning with the stuff you've got in front of you). Having fun.