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| Thursday, 3 March 2005 |
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The Man with the corroding 'Kaduwa'
Are you confused horrified or what? Now let me tell you. Last week I was at a certain geographical location when I stood tongue-tied upon hearing two men twisting their tongue in what I saw as a painful attempt to deliver what is called the Queen's Tongue in the course of which they killed their own more than once. Ironically, both were local guys and would have been better off had they resorted to their native tongue. Nonsense.... prestige matters and nothing like having a go at that much hated but most admired imperial tongue at least to impress those in the audience. By the way, many Sri Lankans even pine for the Britishers' return - a social frustration arising out of a "let down" from their own native leadership - a miserable "let down" at that spanning over half a century. In this story one of the guys (the other being fairly tolerable with an occasional flaw) was the kind we see socially evolved from a lower stratum, whose political engineering today rests him in high voltage hot seat. Looks like Sri Lanka no longer needs brains. Being long past that period of brains over brawns, this country significantly has no formidable competitor in this respect. Sri Lankans after all are "genetically equipped", unlike any other in that sort of engineering of whom to go, for what, outdoing even the kind of engineering the Katubedda Campus could offer. Those were days of immaculate pronunciation, grammar and the rest of it. Even highly-powered toffs in medical, legal and bureaucratic positions today make rather 'interesting listening' pronouncing the kind of English which they think is excellent, which species one is sure not to miss out even in some English dailies. Talk to them in Sinhala wow! you're sure to be treated to any English Pie! (both eatable and mispronounced). Five to them is "Pie" while frincipal and fress go without the "P", Sweden (den pronounced just that way and Bastian christened Baasthiaan (playing safe on pronouns), four is pour and for is four with the 'aw' and 'O' misfittingly used. Yet, they do not stand to be corrected and continue quite oblivious to the giggles of those proficient in English, not so much for the mispronouncements but for all that vanity and conceit that go along with it. Finding an excuse for all this is, "So what, English is not our language" - which precisely is why it should not be spoken at all when interacting with one's own species - the Queen surely would be better off seeing her 'tongue' intact! Yes, try talking to them in Sinhala, they'll reply in English where you could end up with your bowels all twisted. All this apart, social climbers in the local community come off in their best in the much preferred choice of fork and spoon throwing tradition to the winds. However, it's not so much the choice of such instruments that matters but how they are handled. Go to any Five Star, sit behind a few "not", "pot" (pronounced with an 'O') cases and you are sure to be invited to a fun-loving session as forks and spoons are held with ends that point to the ceiling. The exercise is similar to holding a sword - sure, this is no exassperation. Going one step further are mutual references of, "No Baba, yes sweet heart, come on Machan", all sweet music to your ears as they pitch into some roasted carrion, smoked salmon, skewed kebab or whatever. The high degree pronunciation absurdity in what comes off the Queen's Tongue goes on unabated as they display an air of proficiency in what they in their school days may have referred to as "Kaduwa". To add to this brew is the dress quite hilarious and exciting - purple shirts worn with orange trousers, red shorts and green banians with a ring on one ear stand out while a bangle dangles on the left hand. There was a time when social graces ethics, manners, values the fine art of culinary indulgence alongside all others, were part of home education. This was altogether a different breed that dressed up the social scene of those times. That elite is no more the sort that equated itself with Victorian elegance. Living in times of anything goes, it matters little or nothing at all how one manages cutlery and upholds the best in values. While it is painful-yes painful indeed, to sit and watch how this new vernacular monolingual elite ploughs into its grub while not forgetting to plough a language not of their own, the same class is fast replacing the value-filled, knowledge-based elite in the local social scene - the latter's reference to the other being 'the Yakko' crowd. The '77 liberal market economy not to forget was primemover in whatever transformation brought on the local social scene. Today's host interestingly need not be harassed in the thought of inviting guests to dine. Just at the word go or even before, they will swarm around the meal table and help themselves unreservedly overlooking even those behind. Someone even lamented over the new arrangement of lining up for food in hotels and elsewhere in case the fittest's survival is over the weakling's demise - a reminder of jungle rule. Significantly, the difference between the two elites earlier referred to is, while the former held on to excellent values of manners, ethics and what not, the other saw such as "buttering" - to use a colloqial term. Brashness in behaviour finds social acceptance and I know a few who have gone through self transformation taking on off-handishness purely for this reason. This is no justification of full scale Victorian thinking as being paragons of virtue. They were not without bourgeoise behaviour and social acting but relatively better off than the present day monolingual vernacular elite that not only kills the Queen but life's sublime values as well. Notably, the knowledge and value based socio/eco/political system of those times produced intellectuals and value filled human capital which in the years that followed saw a social/eco/political system where the pecuniary or monetary importance devalued existing values, producing a social setting quite unconcerned about what good upbringing and absolute values is all about. |
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'Awkay
I coming tomarrow pie. What time you. Evining pie O.K. no? No worry. I
there.
