Monday, July 9, 2012

Faking accents...

What is it with Pakistanis and their fake English accents?


Our day began at a coffee shop with a waiter and waitress bending over backwards to impress everyone with their English. Right from the customary “what would you like to eat, Sir?” to the parting “thank you” – every single word hurt our ears. Not that we had any problems deciphering the accent, having mastered it long ago, still it felt that we were being addressed by aliens from another planet.

But why just coffee shops? We’ve heard shop-helps, pizza boys, phone executives, students, professionals and even those who are comfortable with the language spewing accents.

Our first exposure to assorted accents was on Dawn TV over four years ago. It wasn’t exactly easy to follow the spurious combinations that hit our hearing apparatus. We soon realised we weren’t the only ones who had difficulty deciphering accents. We would often hear guests and correspondents ask (read complain to) the anchor: “Can you please repeat the question?” And repeat the anchor did, sometimes not just once, but twice and even thrice.

The sudden jump from the Brit-American to very Punjabised/Pushtuised accents of correspondents and guests was equally hilarious. On the one hand, the correspondent in Swat struggled with his English and explained how he had heard “the voice of the helicopters”, and on the other, the anchor did “pohh, pohh, pohh” with a flourish to put the day’s news in perspective.

My husband and I were witness to a funny fake accent scene today. Two girls were in a fight with a boy. Neither could speak English but their accents even in anger were so in place and the ***** words were delivered with panache.

Why are you faaallowing us? Girl yelled in firangi English.
I am naaaat, Boy shot back matching accent.
Go **** yourself, Girl.
Go **** yourself, Boy.
Go **** yourself, Girl.
Go **** your face  you *****, Boy.
Go **** your sister, Girl.
On this note, the two girls and the boy headed in opposite directions.

I have no clue who such people try and ape – Americans? British? But I do know that it is some sort of an inferiority complex that makes such people twist and turn their tongues. 

Obviously, not everyone we have met has an accent. Some are too grounded to be bothered with accents. And some have real accents, which we are fine with.  

Still it is a pleasure to meet people who even after living abroad for several years do not unleash accents. One such person who comes to mind is author-translator Musharraf Ali Farooqi. His non-accented English was music to our ears even though we had feared otherwise before heading for his book launch last month. 

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Ek tha Dajjal…

A painting depicting Dajjal (The Friday Times)
I don't know why but this depiction of Kaana Dajjal, the one-eyed evil man whom the faithful have been warned against and who will show up before Judgement Day, reminds me of a famous justice giver in Pakistan.

For the uninitiated, Dajjal will be blind in his left eye and will perform miracles to show his powers and to gather more followers. He will make life easy for those who believe in him and cause hardship for those who stand up against him.

He will show jannat (heaven) to lure followers. "Although his jannat will appear as jannat, in reality it will be jahannam (hell) and likewise though his jahannam will appear to be jahannam, in reality it will be jannat” (Hadith: Muslim).

Fortunately, Dajjal's game -- who will eventually claim to be god -- will not last for long. He will try and impress his credentials by killing and reviving a person. That will earn him hordes of followers but his subsequent attempt to kill will not work.

I will not be around when the real Dajjal descends, but I might just be witness to what the heavens have in store for this look-alike circa 2012. 

Monday, March 26, 2012

So long, dear friends…

A Pakistan posting can be quite tiresome at times. Imagine not being able to visit world famous sites Mohenjodara and Harappa or the legendary Qissa Khwani Bazaar in Peshawar or even Clifton in Karachi; or being able to hear ghazal queen Abida Perveen sing! The list in LONG.

Imagine sustaining on 84-day visa extensions and not being allowed to cross over to one’s own country on foot! Worse. Imagine not being able to vent on one’s own turf without having to worry about neighbours and bais and bhais. Imagine having to go through the motion of soundproofing the house before letting it all out.

In this madness, the only thing that seems right is the company of friends who make life comfortable and fun. We will soon be bidding good-bye to one such couple.

My experience with officer-types, more so their wives, had not been exactly wonderful till I met this couple:  simple, hardworking and large-hearted. It was such a pleasure interacting with these two humans who tore apart the artificiality and pettiness of babudom, where feelings, thoughts and gifts seem so recycled.

How else do you explain the officer’s knack for making everyone else brim with importance? Little anecdotes from his life, which no dyed-in-the-wool official would ever dare divulge, made him so endearing. 

Fed on legendary tales of snobbery of wives, who take their spouses’ designations way too seriously, it was quite a surprise to see his wife giving a helping hand to an old porter, and on another occasion, pulling out weeds in her lawn to make it easy for the gardener.

It was such a pleasure having a real conversation with the two for whom “how are yous?” meant just that. The little details that the couple took care of to make everyone seem special will be missed. I remember wanting to eat papad and the couple came back from their India trip with about a dozen packets of my favourite papads and also bhelpuri and bhujia. On another occasion we got a supply of rasogollas!

But why just us? They were the first to rush to people in trouble and sadness with uninterrupted supplies of lunches and dinners and cheery chit-chat. 

Not that I made it any easy for them, but never once did the couple lose patience. They let me be and when I did make an attempt to apologize the husband made light of the matter and it was back to another round of masala chai and aloo bondas!

Today they touched my heart yet again when they handed me a parcel from India. A parcel I had forgotten about, but the husband remembered to pick up even in his busiest hour.

Here’s more power to you both!