"HUH?!?"..my eyebrows do a high jump off my eyes..giving me the look of the dumbest guy on earth. "Oh!..umm..Je ne parle pas Français, Je parle Anglais..Merci!"..I say, as if reading a line, without emotion, out of a piece of paper.
"Zu you wont zamthing tu it?"
This is followed by me mumbling those ever-"gentle"-but-so-hard-to-pronounce names of my choice from the menu..I might have insulted some deities of some godforsaken places in the process..but she gets my point.
I have been lucky enough to have traveled often..mostly through Paris.For people who know, just as a reminder, my dad works for the airlines and that gives me the pleasure to exploit his freebies in the form of airline tickets. It also makes me one of the very few "esteemed" travelers who can afford to say "Champs-Élysées??..I'm bored of it now!"..For those who didn't know..it's time to be jealous..(OK..enough of the bragging already!..It's your dad's hard work for God's sake!..Thank you God..and dad. Wait..Did I mention I get to travel Business Class?.. :P)
While all these trips have been amazing and cherished there is one thread of anguish that binds them all..my shameful incompetence in French. I used to be as helpless as a fish out of water.
Talking about fish..I once remember a time I disgraced myself by leading a man to the fish market..He was actually only looking for a drink (Boisson)..when the mathematical literate in me thought he actually wanted a filet for lunch (Poisson)..all leading to the conclusion that I was "un imbécile!!"...ofcourse..
But there is always light at the end of the tunnel..in this case it's Franglish. Owing to the globalisation and..erm..the openness of the conservative minds these days there is a new language that the French and the "bloody ignorant tourist"s can converse in. Fairly simple of course if you know those elementary French words like magnifique or Aujourd'hui.
So, for example, one beautiful morning we can say: "Bonjour! Aujourd'hui magnifique day..
Believe me it works. One time I was nearly sweating at the prospect of spending a couple of days at my French host's, who knew as much English as I know French. I believe Franglish took me through those days like a dinghy in a storm..and kept me from being thrown out or laughed at. The children still ask their dad when the "Monsieur de l'Inde" who could pick them up and turn them upside down will be back again.
So you think I am sitting back, glad this "compromise" between languages works? No way. It has always been a childhood aspiration of mine to be able to speak a language besides Hindi, Marathi, English and ermm..Swahili :P..so French it is..It is my resolution that I shall learn it..online lessons and what not! At least to show that mocking French gentleman!
And then I won't heave a sigh of relief at leaving that country of romance..maybe I'll start blogging in French even!..But for now, as far as I can see, my next blog will be in Engalish for sure..Until then.."Au revoir!"
By the time you are done reading this you will probably think I hate my name..or atleast dislike it..and wonder why so. So that such a catastophe be avoided, I have to clarify that it is not so..I love my name..infact I think it's not just me who loves my name...it is surely loved by more than a million because it seems to be one of the most commonly used ones in our nation..Often I have heard a friend say: "You know I have this friend..whose name is also Saurabh by the way..who.."..There will always be another Saurabh in your life..
One of the things I have realised is how much I love it..especially after hearing it being massacred by the common American tongue..Call it out in a busy Mumbai street and no one will give you a second look..Unless ofcourse you are screaming it out on the top of your lungs and running faster than an average human being ( something of a scene when the prankster me used to love to do to friends and mess up their day)..But call it out here and you will get atleast ten pairs of (non-desi) eyes looking back at you with suspicion of abuse.
Then there is the aforementioned massacre..They are quite inventive I must say. For them I am : "Suraab , Surah , Suruba , Sauruub, Sohrbb"..and most times quite simply "YOU" as demonstrated by a colleague in a dialogue over phone that happened within a week of my first day at work:
"Hey Randy..Saurabh here..The tornado got pretty bad last night. Called in to make sure everyone at work is OK"
"Oh yes you bet. It did get bad..Thankfully everyone is fine..Who is this again?"
"This is Saurabh"
"??"
"SAURABH..The new..."
"Oh..It's YOU!..Yea Yea!..All's fine!..Thanks!"
It took Randy three weeks to get comfortable with my name. He takes it as an accomplishment when he gets it right directing people to the new guy's cubicle now. He even corrects them.
I keep thinking of new ways to make them get it right the first time they hear it. I can only get as close as "SAW-RUB"..."SORE -UB"..things I had written down on the little parchment they handed out to us before the degree convocation so that the announcer can get our names right. And yet..in that gathering of thousands of blessed souls..( I could also hear him snicker just as he took the parchment in his hand)..he messed it up..unconcerned..and moved on to the next..
I can't even cut it short..Like my friend Ramarathinam trims it conveniently to "Ram". Sometimes I think I should get an American name..like one of them Chinese guys..Sometimes..I just think maybe I'll learn to accept it's abuse or non-utterance..
I am at the salon..They have asked the customers to make entires of their names and arrival times...Half an hour goes by as my name draws closer..The lady checks the list..Her smile changes to a grimace and a puzzled look..She looks around...helpless...I give her my friendly, knowing smile..."That would be me..."
