Historic victory

I was down with a heavy cold: sneezing, watery eyes, running nose, sore throat and cough. Inwardly, I prayed that my worthy guests would go and leave me alone in my misery. Out of the blue, burst in Asma Jahangir. She had flown in from Lahore, dumped her baggage in the India International Centre, and come over as fast as she could as she knew I retired early.

Suddenly, the mood of depression vanished. I welcomed her with open arms: “Mubarak ho! Shabaash!” I cried. She had just had a historic victory. She had been elected president of Pakistan’s supreme court bar association. That too in a country ruled by mullahs and the Taliban, who forcibly put women in burqas, stone them to death if they are unfaithful and are forever preparing for a holy war against infidel India. This is indeed a great victory for a woman who strives for close ties with India. I have written before that she deserves the Nobel prize for peace. I add the name of Kuldip Nayar as a possible joint winner of the award because, from our side, he leads Indians who endeavour to bring the two countries closer— ‘Hindi-Pak Bhai Bhai.’

In both Pakistan and India, people live in different centuries. In Pakistan, a majority live mentally in the Middle Ages and support the imposition of draconian shariat laws on the people. In India, we have girls drinking and dancing through long nights, and some walking to distant villages in which elders sit on their charpoys smoking hookah, pronouncing annulment of love marriages if the couple belong to the same gotra, expelling them from the village, and, at times, even having them murdered. The likes of Asma and Kuldip are rare and deserve the highest honours.

Light pen

Rajbir Deswal is the most unusual police officer I have ever met. He is more eager to make a name for himself in the world of letters than to nab thieves and robbers. He is well on the way to succeeding in both his ambitions. He is an inspector-general of police in Haryana and has won the president’s police medal. He is also a member of the Haryana Sahitya Akademi and has won the Haryana Akademi’s Pandit Lakhmi Chand Award. He is a prolific writer: his ‘middles’ appear regularly in several national dailies like The Tribune, The Hindustan Times, The Indian Express and The Pioneer. So far, he has seven books to his credit. My introduction to Haryanvi humour was through his writings. In the last two months, he has produced two books: Hoor Menaka — The Seductress — an adaptation of Pandit Lakhmi Chand’s drama. A month later, he came up with a second collection of his ‘middles’ — Mall Watch.

Deswal wields a light pen. A vein of gentle humour runs through all that he writes which makes him highly readable.

Speech defect

There are quite a few words of English which Indians from different parts of the country find difficult to pronounce. Many south-Indians pronounce ‘M’ as ‘Yum’. I recall Mohan Rao, who was head of the publications division, talking on the phone to M.M. Ameer, member of parliament. When he put down the phone, he explained to me: “That was Yum Yum Yamir, Yumpee”.

Many Bengalis find it hard to pronounce ‘V’ — so ‘very’ becomes ‘bhery’. And they love using ‘O’ lavishly. A Bengali member of the staff of the Yojna applied for six months’ study leave to research the life and teachings of Swami Vivekananda. He explained: “I will examine material on Shwami Bhibheka Nondo.”

There are many other examples. For Urdu speakers, ‘school’ becomes ‘iskool’; to Punjabis, ‘sekool’. ‘Stool’ becomes ‘istool’ to Urdu-speakers; ‘satool’ to the Punjabi. ‘Uncle’ becomes ‘unkil’ to Urdu-speakers; ‘unkal’ to the Punjabi. ‘Scotch’ become ‘iskatch’ to Urdu-speakers; ‘sakotch’ to the Punjabi. ‘Speech’ becomes ‘ispeech’ in Urdu, ‘sapeech’ in Punjabi. Why? The answer lies in the alphabets they use. In Urdu, when ‘S’ is followed by the consonant, ‘T,’ a vowel is inserted in the middle. Devnagari, which is derived from Sanskrit, does not have the problem — so Hindiwallas usually pronounce English words correctly.

I recall Bangladesh’s famous poet Jasimuddin (Joshmuddin), who became a good friend. He always greeted me: “Shordarjee, aap ko boro baj gayaa?”