Monday, January 6, 2020

Learning Kannada


Regardless of whether one is a septuagenarian, octogenarian or, even nonagenarian, it is never too late to learn something new. Be it the unavoidable host of computer applications (some of them intricate) to stay tuned to the changing trends, or the local language for an effective communication. Gothagida?

But everything needs a spark. Nanu helitthu saria? And I got mine last month. I went to buy the notorious Schnider electric switch, for the n’th time from Pavan Electricals. I was amazed at the way the proprietor, a native of Rajasthan, spoke to customers fluent Kannada. As it turned, we both had landed in Bangalore more or less at the same time. I then swore to myself that I would no longer tread on sign language, an equally unfamiliar territory, but would learn Kannada - if not at the Sahitya Academy award winners’ level, at least familiarize myself with the minimum 200 words required to speak a language. Namma decision sari allava? Manasiddhare  maarga ide. Where there is a will, there is a way.

As luck would have it, around this time came the announcement in the SFV Residents Telegram Group of the intention to start a spoken-Kannada class. “What can be more welcome than this,” I said to myself as simultaneously I began visualizing myself in a serious debate in chaste Kannada with Suresh Murthy, Nirmal Kumar and others on CAA, NRC, or the Jharkhand jolt. Nanna mental preparedness sari agida?

As expected the arambhika utsaha to the spoken-Kannada class was tumbha chanagide – with 40 multicultural SFVians rushing to register in a span of ippathu mooru minutes.  And, the first meet at Club House three weeks ago took off to a good start. Well begun is half done.  

Mr Satish P S, of Ebony, Mechanical Engineer from IIT, a mild-mannered man of amiable disposition and an infectious smile to go with it, agreed to conduct the class. Must be an incurable optimist to get the language across to us who are way past our prime. No big deal. He is of a different mettle - a Corporate trainer, mentor and a consultant, all rolled in one, for the manufacturing industry. Any doubts if we are in safe hands?

The next session witnessed a sudden predictable drop in attendance. Yes, everyone had already planned his/her vacation for the year-end. With the New Year celebrations over, we expect them to be back into the fold in the ensuing sessions.

Now a peep into the proceedings. The teacher asked us to come up with common expressions for which we were keen to know the equivalent in Kannada. “How are you?” asked one. “Channagidira,” to elders, and  “Channagidiya”, to the young ones, he clarified.

“I am going to SLV, wish to join me for coffee,” raised another. “But they close at 7.15 and now it is past 8 pm” answered another impromptu oblivious to the fact that it was meant for Kannada translation, and not a real offer. Regardless, the teacher translated both.

“I will go to market tomorrow for vegetables, would you like to join,” was next. “No thanks. I would rather watch cricket match,” replied her spouse thinking it was posed to him. “Patient-incarnate Satish sir dutifully translated all of it, just in case it could aid the duo to take their fight to the next level, in an altogether different language.

“Mr ….. is a very nice person,” said one glancing at that student sitting opposite. “Thank you very much sir,” replied the other accepting the compliment. “No, no, I just said it for translation.” 

On the flip side, for most the verb in different tenses seems to pose a problem. Coming, came, will come, or speak, spoke and will speak, etc. and the subtle nuances between Chanagidaare, referring to appearance, and Ollavaru implying one’s inner qualities, etc.

In contrast, with a better understanding of numbers now, I anticipate less chances to hand thirty rupees when the hawker asks for twenty. That said, when the teacher posed me the question in Kannada: ‘In which floor do you stay,’ I had to write 19 in the air for a response, unable to guess rightly 19th.

Anyway, for the fence sitters, just imagine how much of ‘educ-tainment’ you miss every Friday evening. Make up your mind fast.

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