Kannada Baruthe

Been in Bangalore, Karnataka for almost a decade, yet all I know is rudimentary Kannada. Why did it never occur to me to put myself to the task of learning a new language, when supposedly I love languages?

It must be sheer laziness and the fact that in Bangalore, you can speak any language you know and still get the work done. Bangaloreans in general are conversant with Hindi, Tamil, Malayalam and more and that is a deterrent.

With the desire to interact more with youngsters at college, talk to colleagues and feel more at home here in Bangalore, I am trying my best to get a hold over Kannada.

Well, reading and writing can wait, speaking Kannada decently enough would do for now.

I used to speak Telugu fluently way back in my primary school when I studied in Vijayawada but soon forgot all of it after moving back to Kerala.

If I manage to convince myself of having learnt to speak good Kannada, I definitely want to brush up my Telugu.

Then comes, Tamil, which I being a Malayali, tend to think that I know already. In reality, it is definitely not so. It is only my good friend, Sudha who taught me a smattering of Tamil heavily laced with Malayalam.

When this much is done, well, it already looks like a 10 year plan, I am keen to pick up some Sanskrit and then maybe a foreign language.

If all this happens before I kick the bucket, I would be somewhat proud of myself.

Looks like a lot of work.

I did read somewhere that learning a new language is the best way to keep one smart… so that be the goal… a smart polyglot! Sounds good!

Frog in a city

It is strange she said that I should think of you so much

when there is nothing of you that I can hold on to

there is not a memory, not an experience

dreams yes, fantasies yes

of swinging legs,sitting idle, long silences

it is strange that I should think so much

of that ascent of your nose bridge

dividing the world into 2 halves

that half that you like

the half that you don’t

I must definitely fall into the second,yet

when rains fill the pores of the earth

with soft wetness, the drum and drill of moist drops

I think of you staring into something I cannot see from here

I could never see, could I?

perhaps I will never, ever, seemingly

it is still nice to think of a face I think I know

than to think of faces that think know me well

oh, too well, fitting me in and out

a case of ‘fitment’, strange it sounds, except you stranger

even if it is unlikely like the unmelting of glaciers

the singing of the dodo or the thumping of the dinosaurs

the skies roar in thunder,gentle folds of approval

heard a frog croak after a long time

a frog in a city, now that is something!

Ps: Post Mrs. Dalloway