More Salt Than Pepper

by Karan Thapar

  What we haven’t as yet learnt to do – or found the confidence for – is to play with the language. Even our most proficient English speakers break into Hindi, or Bengali or whatever Indian language they know, when they wish to colour or reinforce what they have said by recourse to idiom. It’s the point at which they become bilingual. Unconsciously or deliberately they are then escaping from their own limitations in English. It shows that whilst we may be fluent in the language we don’t as yet feel comfortable with it.

  23 March 2006

  Random Thoughts for 2009

  I doubt if 2008 could have been worse than it was. But now the most important question I can think of is, Can we be sure the new year will be better? I doubt if anyone knows. More significantly, I fear the portents suggest it might not be. So, whilst we apprehensively wait to find out, here’s a little insouciance to cheer you up.

  My cousin Ranjit has put together a collection of witticisms that seem remarkably apt in the circumstances. ‘Smile, it makes people wonder what you are thinking’; ‘The light at the end of the tunnel may be an oncoming train’; ‘If you can’t convince them, confuse them’ and ‘The road to success … is always under construction’. Here’s one, in particular, for smokers: ‘The cigarette does the smoking; you are just the sucker’. And another for those who are married: ‘Marriage is one of the chief causes of divorce’.

  If you fancy yourself as someone who can turn a pretty phrase, Lakshman, another cousin, has sent me a few quotations you could easily twist for your own use. For instance, if someone’s cracked a poor joke try Mark Twain’s comment on Germans: ‘Their humour is no laughing matter’. And if you want to rile a Bihari or a Bengali you can always adapt Sydney Smith’s attack on Yorkshire: ‘Never ask a man if he comes from Yorkshire. If he does, he will tell you. If he does not, why humiliate him?’ Finally, if your neighbour and his pooch have got to you there’s always Edward Abbey’s riposte: ‘When a man’s best friend is his dog, that dog has a problem.’

  Of course, most of the time when someone pops an awkward question you’re left searching in vain for something clever to say. The silence that follows is hideously embarrassing. Well, here are a few retorts worth remembering. Asked how many husbands she had had, Peggy Guggenheim replied: ‘Mine or other people’s?’ Questioned by a rude TV anchor if she realized that the class system had ended, Barbara Cartland hit back: ‘Of course I do, or I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you!’ And then there’s the old chestnut. When you’re questioned about a disagreement with someone and need to explain it away, try this one-liner from the Cambridge Union: ‘The difference between X and I is a question of mind over matter. I don’t mind and X doesn’t matter.’

  Gen. Jacob, who’s a bachelor, has sent me a collection of wisecracks about marriage. I wonder how many of you, joined in wedlock, agree with them? ‘Two secrets to keep your marriage successful: first, whenever you’re wrong, admit it; second, whenever you’re right, shut up.’ Here’s another: ‘The most effective way to remember your wife’s birthday is to forget it once.’ Yet one more: ‘My wife and I were happy for twenty years. Then we met.’ And finally: ‘When a man steals your wife, there’s no better revenge than to let him keep her.’

  Meanwhile Bamby Rao has forwarded a list of what he calls ‘gentle thoughts’. If the start of another year makes you feel conscious of how time is catching up, he’s offering a little consolation: ‘Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.’ On the other hand, if you want to depress yourself, Bamby has another recipe: ‘First you forget names, then you forget faces. Next you forget to pull up your zipper. It’s worse when you forget to pull it down.’

  And, do you remember Mary and the little lamb? Here’s a version of the nursery rhyme created for that moment when Mummy is fed up of her little darlings: ‘Mary had a little lamb, her father shot it dead. Now it goes to school with her, between two hunks of bread.’

  Finally, if you love journalists as much as I do, be grateful to Humbert Wolfe: ‘You cannot hope to bribe or twist, thank God, the British journalist. But seeing what the man will do unbribed, there’s no occasion to!’

  Happy New Year, or so I hope!

  19 December 2008

  Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

  We all play pranks but last month I was the target of a breathtaking practical joke. It wasn’t simply sweeping in its scope but also meticulously researched and planned. Yet the amazing thing is I haven’t the faintest idea who did it. He or she may have wanted to fool me – and might have partly succeeded – but shows no inclination of revealing his or her identity.

  It began with the following email:

  ‘Dear Mr Thapar,

  Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cornwall has asked me to invite you to a Dinner Party at Clarence House on 3 January 2008. Her Royal Highness and His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales are looking forward to having you with them. The Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary will also be dining with Their Royal Highnesses.

  It is a black tie evening. If you would be so kind as to send me your address, I will post you an invitation card. You are expected at Clarence House at 19:15 hours, for drinks in the Blue Drawing Room. Their Royal Highnesses will receive you in the Imperial Room, where the Prime Minister will be joining their other guests. Dinner will be served at 20:00 hours.

  I look forward to hearing from you.

  Yours sincerely,

  Robert Smedley-Smith, OBE,

  Comptroller to The Household of Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cornwall.’

  The letter, I felt certain, was a prank. Clarence House doesn’t use googlemail and such invitations aren’t sent by email. But why was it copied to Richard Stagg, the British High Commissioner? The email given for him was correct.

  I replied:

  ‘Thank you for your letter of Saturday the 3rd of November. Forgive me for what might be a silly question but is this a joke? I don’t believe that invitations from the Duchess of Cornwall are usually sent by email and that too from a googlemail ID. I may well be wrong – and if I am, I apologize – but I thought I should start by asking if this is a genuine letter or an elaborate hoax.

  I’m marking a copy of my reply to Mr Stagg who, as it happens, knows me and perhaps he or you might send me a quick reply to confirm that this invitation is genuine.

  As it so happens I’m likely to be in London on the 3rd of January and would be delighted to attend.

  I await your reply.’

  Within twenty-four hours I received two further letters. The first was from Richard Stagg. His simply said:

  ‘Dear Karan,

  I’m just off to London and will check (you may well hear in the meantime).

  Best wishes,

  Dickie.’

  The other was from Smedley-Smith:

  ‘I do apologise for the confusion. There have been some problems with the Royal Mail, which is why you have not received the invitation from Clarence House. Another invitation was dispatched on Friday by HM Diplomatic Bag to Dan Chugg at the British High Commission in New Delhi. You should receive it by Monday afternoon.’

  This time the letter was not copied to the high commissioner. But, I discovered, Dan Chugg does exist at the high commission. He’s head of press. And the royal mail has been playing up. So, now, was the invitation genuine? I replied:

  ‘Thank you for your letter. I also have a similar one from Richard Stagg who, in addition, tells me he’s leaving for London and will double check and get back.

  ‘I look forward to receiving the invitation you have sent by the Diplomatic Bag to Dan Chugg at the British High Commission.’

  Three days later I received a phone call from the high commissioner’s secretary. She had established that Robert Smedley-Smith didn’t exist. The invitation – indeed the whole correspondence – was fraudulent. Someone had gone to great lengths to devise an incredible prank but refused to reveal their identity. And although I’ve waited
for more letters they’ve suddenly stopped.

  I doubt if I’ll ever get a real invitation to dine with British royalty, but I wish I knew who to thank for this one or, at least, congratulate. Meanwhile, be warned if you receive similar letters. You could be the next victim!

  26 November 2007

  Thank God for E-Mail

  I’m not sure what we did before the e-mail, but I doubt if reading unexpected letters was such fun. I have a collection of correspondents who often have me in splits. And I’m not talking of the ha-ha jokes, it’s the funny peculiar variety I find most enjoyable.

  For instance, last week my cousin Bharat Sahgal sent me the results of a first grade class test. Twenty-five students, each of whom is only six years old, were given half of a well-known proverb and asked to complete it. What they came up with is not just astonishing but rather clever and very funny.

  Here are some of the results: Strike while the bug is close; Never underestimate the power of termites; No news is impossible; Don’t bite the hand that looks dirty; A miss is as good as a Mr; The pen is mightier than the pigs; An idle mind is the best way to relax; Where there’s smoke there’s pollution; A penny saved is not much; Laugh and the whole world laughs with you, cry and you have to blow your nose; When the blind lead the blind get out of the way; If at first you don’t succeed get new batteries; Two’s company, three’s the Musketeers; and, the winner, Better late than Pregnant!

  Another gem was from Kris Srinivasan, a more regular source of e-mail wit and humour. But unlike Bharat, what he has sent are intriguing questions. You have to think of the answers as you read the following selection: 1) Why are a wise man and a wise guy opposites? 2) Why do overlook and oversee mean opposite things? 3) Why does no one say ‘It’s only a game’, when their team is winning? 4) If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular? 5) Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker? 6) Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery? 7) If four out of five people suffer from diarrohea, does that mean the other one enjoys it? 8) If people from Poland are called Poles, why aren’t people from Holland called Holes? 9) Why is it that people say they ‘slept like a baby’ when babies wake up every two hours? 10) If a deaf person has to go to court is it still called a hearing? 11) If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons? 12) Why are you in a movie but on TV? However, my favourite is: If I am is the shortest sentence in the English language, could it be that I do is the longest sentence?

  Of course, Kris’s questions are capable of raising a few thought- provoking issues as well. For example, how important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered? To be honest, I’m not sure it simply turns on the victim’s importance. Daniel Pearl was only a journalist but his death is spoken of as an assassination. The why and how of the murder could play a part as well.

  But sometimes Kris can alarm you by the strange connections he is able to spot. Consider this: Do the Alphabet song and ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ have the same tune? Surprisingly, the answer is yes! If you don’t believe me try singing the two songs and see for yourself.

  However, when it comes to strange coincidences, Kartik Malhotra has stumbled upon the most bizarre. It seems the number 9 played an eerie role in Benazir Bhutto’s life. She was born in 1953. That’s 1+9+5+3=18 = 1+8 = 9. She died in 2007. That’s 2+0+0+7 = 9. At the time she was 54. That’s 5+4 = 9. But, hang on, Kartik isn’t finished with just that.

  The first suicide attack was on 18th October. The second fatal attack was on 27th December. And she was married on 18th December. Before that she was in self-exile for 9 years, starting in 1998 (1+9+9+8 = 27 = 2+7 = 9) and came back in 2007. Finally, written in Urdu, Benazir Bhutto has 9 alphabets.

  10 April 2008

  A Laugh for the New Year

  Georges Clemenceau, France’s famous World War I prime minister, once said of America that it was the only country in the world to have progressed from barbarism to decadence without experiencing the intervening stage of civilization. Perhaps he had American warning labels in mind. After reading about the US Wacky Warning Label Contest, now in its eleventh year, I decided to research the subject. What I discovered is both stupefying and hilarious. The Americans must be very special people indeed!

  A label on a tractor reading ‘Danger: Avoid Death’ was adjudged this year’s winner. Second prize went to another on a T-shirt that warns: ‘Do not iron while wearing shirt’. A few years earlier the winner was a label on a baby stroller which proclaimed: ‘Remove child before folding.’

  The most striking conclusion about American labels is that they assume their countrymen are fools. Or how else do you interpret this caution on a bottle of drain cleaner: ‘If you do not understand, or cannot read, all directions, cautions and warnings, do not use this product’? It’s not by any means unique. Laser printer cartridges often state ‘Do not eat toner’, TV remote controls warn ‘Not dish- washer safe’, a toilet cleaning brush handle mentions ‘Do not use orally’, whilst a Halloween Batman costume advises ‘This cape does not give the wearer the ability to fly’. Even hair colourings feel the need to add ‘Do not use as an ice cream topping’.

  Often the labels don’t just appear to cater for the stupid or the utterly ignorant but perhaps also people who have abilities the rest of us cannot even conceive of. Otherwise why would a mattress warn ‘Do not attempt to swallow’? Or earplug packages advise: ‘These ear plugs are non-toxic but may interfere with breathing if caught in windpipe’? Perhaps Americans are zombies because hairdryers sold by Sears state ‘Do not use while sleeping’. Or may be they are amphibious because some cars advise ‘Do not drive in ocean’.

  Or it’s possible they’re all sardars, and I write that with apologies to my twenty million brethren, Mr Badal and the SGPC. In my schooldays – long before 1984 – sardar jokes were the staple of schoolboy humour. What does a sardar milk bottle say at the bottom, we would ask? ‘Open other end’ was the answer. It may have been a dreadful PJ but, believe it or not, it appears to be true of America. My research on the net reveals that some Coke bottles in the US of A declare at the bottom ‘Do not open here’, muffins at a 7-11 store advise ‘Remove wrapper, open mouth, insert muffin, eat’, whilst espresso kettles helpfully advise ‘This appliance is switched on by setting the on/off switch to the “on” position’. But surely the winner is this label on a microwave oven: ‘Do not use for drying pets’.

  So does all of this mean Americans are a breed apart? Are they different or, at least, unique? Otherwise how do you explain these wacky labels? The truth is that Americans are no different to you and I, though a lot richer and occasionally not as cultured. Its their legal system – or their lawyers – that are to blame. Predatory legal- eagles file suits to claim damages for the most frivolous or far- fetched of reasons, thus forcing manufacturers to cover themselves by ensuring their products carry warnings advising against any conceivable misuse. And believe me I’m not exaggerating. You can even find bathtubs in New York which solemnly advise ‘Do not throw the baby away with the water’!

  But something else is also equally true. It’s Americans themselves who have drawn the world’s attention to these wacky labels and organized the wacky label contest. There’s even a book on the subject. It’s called The 101 Stupidest, Silliest and Wackiest Warning Labels Ever. So even in their lawyer-induced idiocy they retain their sense of humour. Frankly, that forgives a lot.

  26 December 2007

  Three Little Stories

  It may be a commonplace thought but it’s worthy of repetition. The politics of a country is defined by the character of its politicians. Which is why the opposite is also true: stories about politicians can reveal interesting insights into the political system they operate. And in case you haven’t guessed, this is my excuse for telling you three little stories this Sunday morning!

  The first concerns Harold Macmillan and the British election of 1959. At the time Super Mac, as he was called, w
as coasting to an easy victory. In fact, his slogan was the cheeky, if accurate, aphorism, ‘You’ve never had it so good’. The country believed him. Which perhaps explains why his wife behaved as she did. She dozed off to sleep at the last Conservative Party political rally. Harold was speaking whilst Dorothy, for that was her name, was snoring.

  ‘Oy,’ shouted a man from the audience. ‘Does His Bigness know that the Missus has dropped off?’

  The remark brought the house down, leaving Harold somewhat abashed. But Dorothy, who had been roused from her slumber, wasn’t the least bit flustered.

  ‘My father is a politician, my brother is a politician, my husband is a politician and so are my son and son-in-law. I’ve heard what they have to say and I know it well. So, if you’ll forgive me, I prefer to carry on sleeping.’

  And she did but not before she had won the hearts of the audience. Harold, of course, won the election.

  The second story is about two of our own politicians. It was told to me at a recent dinner but, alas, I can’t reveal by whom. However, its authenticity seems unimpeachable.

  In 1984, after the assassination of Indira Gandhi, the shaken government struggled to arrange a suitable but secure funeral. Heads of state and government from all over were to attend and the arrangements had to be meticulous. The foreign office had reserved front row seats for each of them. But by the time Mrs Thatcher and Princess Anne, who were representing the British government and the British Queen, arrived, the row was full. Congress MPs, eager to be as close to the action as possible, had clambered over the back rows to occupy whatever empty places there were at the front. And so the two ladies remained standing whilst their anxious foreign office escort thought furiously about what to do next.