Election Time

The civic elections are taking place in Pune right now. It’s a big deal. Political rallies are taking place all over the city and Tadiwala Road is no exception. You can’t go two minutes without seeing (or hearing) an autorickshaw kitted out with loudspeakers, blaring out pre-recorded campaign slogans or giving a mobile platform for one party or other.

Shakuntala – one of the DISHA team – is standing as a candidate. I hope she wins. Her compaign HQ is set up just outside my building. Perhaps if she’s successful we can arrange an Evita-style reception from my balcony…

Many of the rallies pass along the path outside my flat. Of course, as soon as they see Shaku’s HQ they up the volume. This gets a little trying after a while.

All this excitement will continue until 1st February, when the voters go to the polls. Afterwards there’ll be a few celebrations, and then perhaps things will get back to normal. And believe me, ‘normal’ is still pretty interesting around here.

I was in Mumbai over the weekend and they’ve taken the dramatic step of banning liquor sales during the election period to try and cut campaign-related trouble. A newspaper report I read on Saturday quoted an anonymous political leader saying they’d prepared for this by stocking up on booze in advance in order to keep party workers going during the gruelling campaign. I wonder if they’ll win.

Sholay

Here’s a still from the Hindi blockbuster Sholay.

Originally released in 1975, the film beacame so popular that some cinemas ran it for years. It remains the most successful Hindi movie of all time. I’ve got the DVD – it’s great.

The plot is relatively straightforward. Small-time criminals Veeru and Jai (played by Dharmendra and living legend Mr Amitabh Bachchan, respectively) are employed by ex-policeman Thakur Baldev Singh (Sanjeev Kumar) to apprehend notorious bandit Gabbar Singh (the excellent Amjad Khan) whose gang has been terrorising the village of Ramgad. There are a couple of twists along the way to keep things lively, but essentially it’s a struggle between good and evil.

The heroes really are heroic. The bad guy really is nasty – in one memorable scene, wiping out the Thakur’s entire family as an act of revenge. In another, he forces Basanti (Hema Malini) to dance on broken glass to save Veeru’s life.

And – importantly for a Bollywood film – the songs are great. Combine all this with action, humour, pathos and romance and you’ve got a winning formula. Certainly, if you spent your hard-earned rupees on seeing this at the cinema you’d definitely walk out having got your money’s worth.

The film owes debt to Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns – leading to it being described as a ‘curry western’. Very clever. The landscape (near Bangalore) even looks like the wild west. Of course, a remake is in the pipeline. Sounds like a shameless cash-in to me. But if I’m in the country at the time, I’ll go see it all the same. Bah.

Roopali

Roopali Hotel. A ‘hotel’ in the Indian sense meaning an inexpensive food joint rather than a place to stay, it’s a Pune institution, along with sister restaurant Vaishali, just up the street.

It’s on Fergusson College Road, opposite the University of Pune’s Ranade Institute, noted seat of learning and where I had the pleasure of studying for a year. For my circle of journalist friends, Roopali is our ‘adda’. I guess the closest English translation would be ‘hangout.’ Event though our student days are sadly behind us, we still meet there regularly. In true student fashion, we can easily spend a couple of hours chatting about everything and nothing over a couple of cups of chai or coffee, shared ‘two by two’, much to the annoyance of the management.

The waiters – who we either know by name or nickname depending on how friendly they are – are fine gentlemen, looking pretty sharp in their white uniforms. They can easily discern between the proper customers – who eat proper meals then leave – and jokers like us, doing ‘timepass’ (my favourite Indian English expression). But then we are regulars, with our preferred tables and favourite orders.

Everyone thinks I always order the ‘Special Tomato Uttapa’. This is not true, but it probably is probably my favourite item on the menu. Rather than dip mouthfuls of uttapa into the side bowls of coconut chutney (very tasty) or sambar (uh… a kind of mildly spiced watery tomatoey dip… more appetising then my description makes it sound), I tend to slather everything over my plate and mix it all up. This horrifies everyone, although usually I can get away with playing the eccentric foreigner card. I believe that in the same way that the English invented cricket and football (and rugby, and let’s claim baseball, basketball, kabbadi and cross-country skiing whilst we’re about it) yet other nations teach us rather brutal lessons in how to play them, so India invented the dosa and the uttapa and I alone know how to appreciate them properly.

I almost always have a fresh lime soda at Roopali. A healthy and inexpensive option. Now while James Bond may like his vodka martinis shaken not stirred, I like my lime sodas “No sugar, no salt. Plain.” The waiters all know this but they still ask me every time. It’s their little joke.

Now despite my fondness for Indian cuisine, Bollywood movies, Hindi music and Kingfisher lager, I’m still very much the Englishman abroad. Perhaps not quite the white-suited Man From Del Monte, but I have been known to stroll around in the mid-day sun ready with a newspaper tucked under my arm, casually waving cheery hellos to all and sundry. I’m not tanning much either. The other day I was described – by a fellow Brit! – as looking like a ‘frozen milk bottle’, a harsh if not inaccurate description. And I still speak better Geordie than Hindi, alas.

Speaking of which, in Newcastle’s Bigg Market, there’s a great Indian restaurant called Rupali. The manager is a real character, going by the magnificent name of Lord of Harpole; I suspect he purchased the title many years ago from one of those outfits that advertise in the back of Private Eye. His restaurant is home of the infamous ‘Curry Hell Challenge’. Basically, if you can finish what is alleged to be the world’s hottest curry, you get your meal for free. It’s a wonder Lord Harpole hasn’t been prosecuted under anti-terrorism laws. I remember Matt giving it a crack several years ago and ending up with chemical poisoning. Beware.

Some Indian English

Indian English is here to stay. Rather than just a load of tired linguistic clichés featured in old Two Ronnies sketches and episodes of Mind Your Language, it’s a pukka variant of English, conforming to developed grammatical rules, and is – I would argue – as valid as any other form of the language.

And it’s interesting to see how it works. I suppose Indian English has branched off from 1940s colonial British English, with constant modern inputs from all over the English-speaking world, particularly the USA.

Back in August I found myself giving a talk on British English to the Pune chapter of the Society of Technical Communicators (India). I talked a little bit about regional accents and dialects, but also used examples of American English and Indian English for comparison.

Indian English (not to be confused with Hinglish, which is something else) has many interesting characteristics. Rather than get into a detailed examination of the linguistic complexities – for which I am wildly unqualified – I’ll list a few words and expressions:

Airdash – to fly somewhere urgently, usually in the midst of a crisis
Batchmate – classmate
Eve-teasing – innocent sounding euphemism for sexual harassment
Funda – concept, belief. “He’s got some weird fundas. Like, he wears only purple on Wednesdays.”
Gift – used as a verb; “She gifted me that book for my birthday.”
Godown – warehouse, storage unit or lockup
Item number – song and dance routine in Indian film totally irrelevant to the plot but featuring scantily clad hottie writhing around a lot
Mild lathi charge – when the police decide to go whack people with their big cane sticks
Mishap – horrific accident. “In an unfortunate mishap 49 persons were killed when the bus in which they were travelling plunged headlong off the edge of a 300-foot cliff.”
Pain – used as a verb; “My leg is paining.”
Pass out – to graduate (universal; not used only in the military sense)
Votebank – politicians attempt to cultivate votebanks who they hope will vote for them en masse. These votebanks are often based on caste or religion; really, this is a cynical and divisive approach that fuels social and communal tension. If you ask me.
Timepass – obviously, passing time, but also an activity in itself. Sometimes even a description: “Dhoom 2? It’s a timepass movie.”
VIP – basically any mate of a politician who can blag favours and get free tickets for cricket matches
VVIP – a politician in office. They get to travel round in escorted convoys (if they’re not busy airdashing) and all traffic is halted to allow them through on their way to some jolly or other. They lose touch with reality and tend to believe that they really are the anointed masters of the people, rather than their elected servants. So there.

“The minister airdashed to the godown, scene of the alleged eve-teasing. Police resorted to a mild lathi charge to disperse a crowd of college batchmates, who had gathered for timepass.”

You get the idea.

Just a lot of stuff and nonsense