Grappling with gender bender in Hindi
“R ama ma’am aapse milne ke liye betaab hain.” I was taken aback when my friend, Mausami, introduced me to her husband at a wedding, whom I was meeting for the first time. I felt hugely embarrassed with her choice of words, which translated into English meant that I was desperate to meet her husband. I looked around to see if my husband was in ear shot. Thankfully, he was not.
That is how Mausami, our Bengali friend, would often speak Hindi, picking up highsounding words from Hindi movies and songs and at times land us in awkward situations. An amazing lady, bubbly and chirpy, she would often entertain us with her hyperbolic Hindi speaking skills. Her vocabulary was fantastic, straight from Bollywood movies, extravagant and dramatic. At times she stumped us with the usage of words such as lajawaab, ahsaanpharamosh, nashukra, sangharsh, though more often than not inappropriately used.
Ma us ami’ s Hindi was funny. She would say, “Tum paani khayega.” The fact is in Bangla there is nothing to drink; everything is eaten from water to cigarettes. For her the rule did not change in Hindi either. But in due course she perfected the usage for eating and drinking.
The most amusing were Mausami’s gender goof-ups. Bangla, being a gender neutral language, ‘ka’ ‘ki’ and ‘ke’ were always an issue with her. Mausami would invariably make a gender blunder. Over a period of time, she gained proficiency in the usage of correct gender for living things but the gender for non-living objects continuedto perplex her. When we tried to reason it out with her, she would say, “How on earth do you get to know which noun is feminine and which is masculine in Hindi?” Indeed it was difficult for us to explain why train and bus are feminine, while truck and aeroplane are masculine. We had no explanation why police, which is not even remotely connected with femininity, is a female gender. We were clueless why we say police ayee and not ayaa in Hindi. Never mind the gender trouble; it is communication that matters. Mausami struggled with Hindi, fumbled for words, grappled with the use of the correct gender but that did not deter her from being a chatter-box and expressing herself. Despite her limited Hindi-speaking skills, she was popular in our friend circle, always ready to mingle with people of all age groups.
It’s been a couple of years since she left Chandigarh as her husband got transferred to Mumbai but we continue to miss her and, of course, her notorious Hindi glossary.
MAUSAMI’S HINDI WAS FUNNY. SHE WOULD SAY, “TUM PAANI KHAYEGA.” THE FACT IS IN BANGLA THERE IS NOTHING TO DRINK; EVERYTHING IS EATEN FROM WATER TO CIGARETTES. FOR HER THE RULE DID NOT CHANGE IN HINDI EITHER