LOST IN TRANSLATION

Lage Raho Munnabhai serves its purpose well if you see it for what Bollywood films are made i.e., for their entertainment value. However, it would be a pity if after seeing the film youth were to believe that Gandhian methods can bring quick results. In fact, the very emphasis on results is contrary to the true spirit of Gandhian values. As far as Gandhi was concerned, truth and non-violence were worthy ideals to be pursued irrespective of their outcome. One, therefore, hopes that the film would inspire people to look beyond Gandhigiri and delve deeper into Gandhian thought. This gives us an opportunity to examine the word Gandhigiri, which has caught the fancy of many and has been objected to by others. In the film the term has been used for the practice of Gandhian methods. However, strictly speaking, in Hindi the suffix girl has a pejorative connotation. Thus, you have chamchagiri (sycophancy), dadagiri (bullying), uthaigiri (stealing) etc.

To a Hindi-speaking person, therefore, the word Gandhigiri does not sound complimentary to the Mahatma. However, Bollywood Hindi is hardly known for its purity. Its more a khichri, whose main ingredient may be proper Hindi but which is richly flavored with other languages. In Gujarati for instances, the suffix girl is used both in a pejorative and non-pejorative and non-pejorative sense. For example, Gujarati word Kaamgiri simply means work or performance. That the term Gandhigiri has been coined by Abhijat Joshi, the dialogue and screenplay writer of the film who has lived in Ahmedabad, shows that the Gujarati influence has something to do with the coining of the new term. One person who would certainly have been cool to the term Gandhigiri is the Mahatma himself. For, in the very first paragraph of the Hindi translation of his autobiography, My Experiments with Truth, he used the word diwangiri to describe the profession of his ancestors. The word was perfectly in order in the original version of the book, which Gandhi wrote in Gujarati. The word has been retained in the Hindi translation even though its correct rendering in Hindi should have been diwani. That no one has objected to it shows that the translator meant well. And so it seems did Abhijat Joshi.

THE UNCOMMON CROW

It was a strange pecking order. An order that shattered long held notion about gentle pigeons, noisy crows and their countenance in general. Having had no opportunity earlier to watch pigeons closely, I was fascinated by their sheer numbers when they descended on my balcony in Mumbai one morning. Their cooing and chattering amused me as stood in front of the kitchen window. Hoping they would come back the next moring and every day after that, i began to put out loads of rice- leftovers that my dog made available. The crows came too – noisy as ever and often scolding me on days when i would delay putting out their meal. They waited at strategic points on the parapet, ready to swoop down on the bowl. I wasn’t sure if they were early risers or had just got into the habit of grabbing a quick bite before the dominating pigeons landed. As the messengers of love arrived with their domineering swagger, the crows obligingly stepped aside to let them have their fill.

And while the pigeons stepped aside to let them have their fill, lumps of rice onto the ground, the crows would shift and slide, making way for one latecomer among them- a single legged fellow. Though he was half a wing short, he was the only one who had the courage to goad the pigeons to make way. It was probably a similar act of bravery that cost him his looks. I saw in him what cartoonist R K Laxman had noted decades ago – a spark of intelligence and a strong survival instinct in his jet-black eyes. Eyes that reflected a quiet confidence in other creatures as well. Something that made him stand out in the murder of crows that surrounded me and my dog every day. And then one day my dog died. The bowl lay in the balcony as usual, but the winged friends didn’t turn up. Much later, the brave one put in an appearance and sat there in silence – for a long, long time. To me, it was as if he had come as a representative of the two warring parties, to bid farewell to his benefactor, before leaving for good.