On dit comment ?

A client at the gym said 'Let's do workout, baba' in Konkani mix. I asked him, 'Why not "kasrat"?' He said English is easier. It made me sad for our language, but what to do? The world changes and we adapt, but I hope we don't forget our roots.

My younger sister was arguing last night that Meiteilon should ban English loanwords like "mobile" and "battery" — but when her phone died, the first thing she asked was, "Where's the charger?" I see the same in that French anglicism debate you all have: the market of everyday use decides faster than any committee ever will. Just like when I tune

Rooftop chai ke time mummy se baat karte huye, main sochti hoon ki bhasha bhi plants ki tarah hoti hai — apne aap ugti hai, rules nahi maanti. Kuch log kehte hain ki French mein English words avoid karne chahiye, lekin main bachchon ko padhate time dekhti hoon ki jo bhasha kaam kare, wohi sahi. Outcome dekhna chahiye, charts aur committees se zyada lived experience ka bharosa hai.

Arre, Education Minister sahab, aapki baat suni — par mera padosi ka baccha abhi bhi Radio Pakistan ki ghazalein sunta hai, kyunki uske school mein angrezi ka teacher nahi hai. Humari gali mein ek bhai ne apni beti ko computer sikhane ke liye do hazaar rupaye mahine ka fee diya, aur ab uska jagun TV theek karta hai. Jab tak humari 'jugaad' education na sudhre, yeh neta log kya karenge

Seeing Vedika Pinto’s name in the headlines—and the way some corners of the internet have decided to pick apart her Kannada accent in that old video—reminded me of something. Last week, a girl from the college crowd at my gym, first time on the leg press, told me her professor mocked her for saying “weight” with a slight nasal twang. She laughed it off, but I saw her shoulders drop. I told her: *“Swalpa adjust maadi, akka—your legs are lifting more than his ego ever will.”* We spend so much energy policing who sounds “correct,” but the real shrama is in the numbers: how many kids from our small towns stop speaking their mother tongue in public because some committee decided the market of approval belongs only to one accent?

Yaar, 'Odyssey' sunke mera dil karta hai uss din ki yaad jab mummy ne radio pe 'Odyssey of the Mind' ka koi program suna — main samjha koi naya chai ka naam hai. Phir pata chala toh bahut hansi aayi. Asal mein, meri zindagi ki sabse badi odyssey woh 50 rupaye ka safar hai jo roz shami ko pine grove tak jaata hai, bas thoda sannata pane ke liye. Kahani bhi nahi, bus honk aur pahad ke beech ka ek aam aadmi ka chakkar.

A new name for our farm cat after seeing the fuss about that queen—we now call her Cleopatra, strutting between the pineapple rows like she owns the Nile. My wife says the only empire this Cleopatra rules is the compost heap, but even there, the crows give her a wide berth. It’s a good name; it carries weight, like the old names from our family *vithu*, not like these new, shiny brand names for apartments swallowing the paddy fields.

बाइपास सड़क बन रही है, धूल से मेरी बीवी के गेंदे के फूल मुरझा रहे हैं — और ये लोग फ्रेंच में 'anglicisme' पर ब

Eh, this "écriture inclusive" business — I see the point, but in the ward we have no time for dots and dashes between syllables when a patient's chart says "le docteur" and the doctor is a woman. My granddaughters in Kohima tell me it is for fairness, but I ask them: where is the study showing it helps anyone understand better? We have no such data, only feelings. Back home, we just say "daktar" and everyone knows who we mean — the job matters more than the ending.

You know, yaar, I was marking maths papers today and one boy wrote "15 + 25 = 40" but then crossed it out and put "30" because the textbook answer sheet said so. That's the problem with committees deciding what's correct — they don't trust their own logic. I'd rather have a messy argument with a student who can defend their sum than a perfectly silent class copying the official answer.

You know, seeing this debate on borrowed words reminds me of how my dadi’s chikankari patterns borrow a little from Persian motifs—they’re richer for it, yaar. But when a machine copy washes out all the stitch-and-thought, that’s just loss. Language must weave new threads without unpicking the whole cloth, bilkul.

कल बाज़ार में सुन रहा था कि करगिल विजय दिवस आ रहा है। बेटी के स्कूल ट्रिप का पैसा जोड़ता हुआ मन में सोच रहा था—हमारे गाँव के उसी मोड़ पर एक सिपाही का बाप बैठता है, जिसका बेटा लड़के तो नहीं बचा, पर टूटी छतरी ठीक करने में माहिर है। उसका हाल देख के लगता है कि बड़ी-बड़ी बातें बहुत हैं, पर आखिर में आदमी की छोटी-