Marathi sayings

It is quite interesting to observe sayings when you talk about languages. They reveal a lot about the culture(s) in which the language is spoken. Today I am going to take some Marathi sayings that I have heard since childhood and translate them. I am going to incorporate sayings given to me by my friends on FB too. Here goes:

My mom said this several times and apparently has taken it from her mom.

"Bol bol narya, dhotar gele vaarya".Keep talking Narayan, while your clothes fly away. It can be used for someone who keeps talking while something is going wrong in his own backyard.

Durga Godbole gave me this one, from her granny: "Dhavlyasobat thevla pavlya, gun nahi pan vaan lagla." Meaning: Kept A with B, A only took the bad qualities of B.

Aloka Gharat's granny used to say, "ati shaanya cha baeel rikama": The over-smart guy has a dumb bull.

The cheekiest was Shruti Murudeshwar Karthik's contribution, "Aaplich moree, mutaychi chori". I am hesitating to pee in my own loo. I guess it is used when someone cannot do something in his house/office/domaine and has to think twice..

From Junuka Deshpande's great grandmother comes this one, "Beblya baavit padla aani lakhlakhit zala", Beblya (simpleton) fell in the well and came out shining. According to Junuka it is used when a blunder happens and leads to something better.

Now come some from my grandma again: "Na tula na mala, ghal kutryala": I didn't get it, neither did you, give it to the dog. Which means that I didn't benefit from a certain thing, nor did another person. It went to a third party.

Another one of her favourites was " Khaal moondi, pataal dhoondi.": Looking all over hell with the head lowered. It means that a person is looking for something, but not properly.

"Bajaarat toori ani bhat bhatnila maari": The lentil pod is still in the market and the priest is beating up his wife. Which means that there is an argument about something that still isn't in the arena for discussion.

"Kakhet kalsa ani gaavaala valsa" The pot of water is under the arm but a tour of the village has been made to look for it. It is used when you are looking for something that is right under your nose!

"Bhatjibua lagna kara, baayko tumhich vha": Dear priest, please get married, but become your bride yourself. It is used when you suggest an idea and it is appreciated and the entire responsibility of it's execution falls on you.

"Gaadhvala gulachi chav kaay" A donkey cannot appreciate the taste of sugar!

This one's from Wikiquotes, but one you can hear really often: "Gaadhava pudhe vaachli Geeta, Kaalcha gondhal baraa hota" I read the Geeta before a donkey, in comparison, yesterday's commotion was bearable. It means that I made a mistake by reading the scriptures (or giving advice) to someone who is not capable of understanding it. In comparison, his state of ignorance was better!

"Bhatala dili osri, haloo haloo paay pasri": Give the priest some place in your frontyard, and soon he'll spread his legs and occupy all the space. It is used when someone takes undue advantage of your generosity!

And my two favourite last ones "Jya ghari jashil bale, tya gharche laagtil chaale": You will learn the quirks of the house you enter after marriage my child". It can be used when someone is adamant on an opinion which will inevitably change in another situation.

This one was used hundreds of times on me by my mom, "Khaayla adi, zopaayla madi an kaamaala kadibadi.": The first to eat, sleeps in between and works rarely. Basically useful for a lazy person!

I am sure you all have many more to offer. Do write them down so we all can learn a few more!

Aaji

It's been a long time since I've tried expressing what I felt about my maternal grandmother, my aaji. My aaji passed away in July last year. I did not have time to grieve. She passed away a day after my mom came out of hospital after a medical emergency. It was a tough time for all of us. But caring for my mom was the first thing on my mind. Hence I tried to put off the grieving for another time. That time hasn't come yet and I am still to come to terms with the loss. I still cannot believe she's no more.

Her name was Indira Ranganath Deshpande. I am sure she had also told me what her maternal 'name' was. But I have now forgotten. In Maharashtra, not only are women's surnames changed after marriage, their names are also changed. It is becoming a rare tradition now but was much practised when aaji got married.

The eldest of several siblings, she was very maternal right from the beginning. She was allowed to go to school till the fourth grade and according to one version she told me, she was tricked into going to live with some relatives on the pretext of sending her to a better school but never saw the face of a school again. She could never forgive her parents for that. All said and done, her parents and grandparents were Zamindars, landlords and were pretty well-to-do. But life was still tough on the plateau she came from because of seasonal droughts.

She was married at the age of 18, information that I got after some coaxing. The match was fixed by the families. She was fair, beautiful, hard-working. He was well-educated and from a good family. My grandfather was a progressive man and did not want to get married to someone he had not even met. Obviously the families would never have agreed to two young people meeting before marriage. So using someone as an intermediary, he asked my grandmom to come to meet him at some place. And they met. They both went back feeling a little more secure about each other. They got married.

The wedding feast was described in great detail by my grandmom. There were 20 bullock carts full of people from my grandpa's side who came to my grandma's house. They stayed for 3 days. All the meals were prepared by the women in the house for three days. She described her wedding saree in detail. It had real silver threads in it and when after years of use, it tore, she burned it and obtained enough silver to make two silver bowls.

My grandfather had not completed his graduation. He went to Banaras to finish it. All those years, my grandmom waited for him to come back. He was the first in the family to have a degree.

Together they had 6 children, 4 boys and two girls, the first died in infancy. It was a hard life. She cooked and took care of a whole family. Since they had moved to the city because of my grandpa's job, there were relatives' children who had joined the clan because there were better schools in the city. She managed to make four meals for an entire family, every day of her life...

Unlike a lot of parents of that era, my grandparents wanted daughters after three sons. They got my mom..She was pampered! My grandfather was very strict about educating his children and saw all of them well-educated. My mother even completed her Masters in Botany and my aunt finished her BCom.The sons were well-educated too.

As a child, I remember my grandmom as an angry woman. I always saw her complaining and in my refined sugar-coated city life, failed to notice her natural rustic love.

When my grandpa passed away in 2001, my parents told my sister and me that aaji would be living with us. I was quite excited as I never had grandparents live with us before.I was the youngest of her grandchildren.

It was not easy. Initially I had two parents and a half (My elder sister being half a parent). Then I had one more. It was tough for a 16 year old. I was becoming quite independent, immersing myself in the life of the Alliance Francaise. I cannot believe it now, but my grandmom and I actually had fights in the first few months. Once I had not spoken to her for two whole days, my way of getting back at her. I had started feeling guilty when a little talk by my mom at dinner one night got me back to reality and I went sobbing in grandma's arms and said sorry.

I felt enormous guilt about behaving in such a way to a woman who had just lost her soulmate of 60 years. There began my geriatric training. Principle 1: Don't try to change old people, it is almost always impossible.
Finally, I also realized that she wasn't so difficult. We got settled in each other's environment within a month of that fight. She had valuable advice to give me regarding my future: marriage, education and all that. She even told me that she wouldn't be upset if my husband was not Indian. She never pushed me towards marriage, but definitely pushed me towards a masters. She would have been incredibly happy to know that I am also doing a thesis. She put me in the habit of not talking about or shutting out all conversation about death, destruction and sorrow after sundown, simply because unpleasant things affect sleep. She loved me a lot. I even remember once when I had twisted my ankle and she was trying to ease the pain and I was so overcome that she had to tend to me at an age where I should be taking care of her.

Her cooking would be like my mom's: with very few spices and a with a bit of unrefined suger (gud) in everything. She would also add groundnut powder to everything since she came from the plateau. People from the coast generally use coconut. I was not the biggest fan of that kind of cooking but enjoyed some of her rarer dishes. Sabudana khichdi was a staple once a week because she would observe a fast. I remembered her in my trip to England when I spent my days cooking (voluntarily) about how she might have cooked for such a big family day after day and she had no choice!


With her, came the first idol of any God in our house, my parent's being atheist. Every evening she would sit in a corner in the kitchen and pray in a low voice and also sing. Her prayer books were kept in a corner of the kitchen, wrapped in a plastic bag. In her suitcase, she had an old black and white photograph of my grandpa. She missed him terribly and tears would roll down her eyes everytime someone mentioned him.

I also remember how her eyelids would automatically close in reverence when I sang devotional songs (abhangs) at the insistence of the family and when the name "Vitthal" or "Pandurang" would resonate at the end in repeated loops. Her hands would be joined in prayer and a "wah" would escape her lips. I would always look at her before I broke into a loud "Vitthal Vitthal.....". The appreciation was not for me. It was for Vitthal. She had given up eating onion and garlic for religious reasons. She said these foods led to short temper. I now now that they are also aphrodisiac. And hence the restriction. I also remember her efforts to integrate into the life of her granddaughter. I once asked her if she wanted to eat Maggi, instant noodles, very popular among young Indians. I was almost sure she's refuse, but she agreed. I gave her some lying that it had no onion or garlic in it. She found it way too spicy and added groundnut powder to it!

The last time I met her

Then I came to France. She lived with my uncles and aunts then. The last time I met her was before a cousin's wedding in 2009. She looked frail and needed a stick to walk. But I did not expect that it would be our last meeting.

In July 2010, my parents were supposed to visit me in France. They were very skeptical about their visit because grandma was ill. They had told me to plan a trip to meet my grandmom.

But two days before they were to leave, my mom had to be hospitalised for a cardiac issue. I left immediately for India. When my mom was out of the ICU, my grandma spoke to her on the phone and asked her to take care. I spoke to my aunt who was with my grandma and the phone line was cut. I did not bother to call back to speak to my grandma as I was busy taking care of mom. Mom was in the hospital for 5 days and then we took her home. That evening my uncle, who is a doctor, was talking on the phone in the bedroom and for a fleeting second, I thought it was about my grandma. But I quickly forgot about it and went back to caring for my mom. My uncle left to go to my grandma's town but did not tell anyone what had happened.

The dreaded call came the next morning and it was my dad who answered. I broke down when I saw my mom crying. It was all too much for me, the rushed trip to India, my mom's hospitalisation and now this, a permanent loss. My aunt was the brave one, tiding us both over this loss, consoling us and managing all that had to be managed.

Such an exemplary woman, one who helped so many people up on their feet, her own children, her nieces, nephews, her husband, her grandchildren. But history will wipe her memory off like countless other women.

My mom tells me that she was there for my birth. She is the one who massaged my right thumb in place after she fretted over why I was not moving it after birth. I was not there for her death. I was far away.I wasn't even there for the funeral. I was taking care of her daughter. I wasn't there for the 13th day ceremony because the person supposed to take care of my mom that day decided to bunk work.

To finish I just want to say this: Old people have reached a stage in their life when they can't change. It is unfair to expect them to change. But they have a wealth of knowledge and stories to tell you. It's not long before  they leave you. We like to believe that they can improve, they can change and that their attitude is at fault. They have reached a stage when a lot of things are not in their hands.We have to let them be. I wish aaji was around to see how I am doing. And I really regret not having spent enough time with her. 

England!

So this is the end of my seventh visit to this country in the last 6 months. This time I was here for the longest amount of time. My PhD external supervisor is here. And so is my own external supervisor :).

I had thought that I would do a fair bit of reading in this trip. Instead I ended up doing things I would never have done, like making chapatis. The reason I did it here is that I have 3 Indian housemates here who are always willing to be the subjects of my cooking experiments. And they are also always ready with kind supportive words. Another reason is that Indian ingredients are easily available here in England.

In France I am learning French cooking. But for Indian food, I would always cover up anything with a smothering of spices and it would taste good. Somehow I had never managed to learn real Indian cooking.  I guess the reason is that I like being left alone while cooking and in India someone is always present along with you in the kitchen who keeps telling you how and what to do. In my case it was my mom and the bai who made chapatis.

Anyway, so I cooked. I sometimes made breakfast, most times I made lunch and dinner and when I felt like it, I made afternoon snacks.

It began with Gudi Paadva/ Pongal when we all felt like making something sweet. So we made Kheer/Payasam for dinner. It was a hit. Then it was things like Dosa, Sambaar, Khichdi, black-eyed beans, upma, poha, bhel etc. Although I like chapatis, I felt like they were the reason all Indian women spent hours in the kitchen. So I had forsaken them altogether. But my housemates were not so skeptical about those round monsters. So I gave it a try with them. At first they were too thick, not round etc. But I was so hooked to learning how to roll out the monsters that I hung on to it and rolled out a few several times. And I think I learned. Priyanka, my chapati guru will testify.
I really graduated when I made stuffed potato parathas! I never thought I was capable of anything like that. But they turned out well. Then I baked apple tart like MH had taught me to. I added caramel sauce to it. Then I baked Pizza! Made everything from the base to the sauce. I also made gratin dauphinois, a French potato and cheese bake. I made crepes and also a shortcrust basket with fruits and custard. I also tried Parsi omelette but I am sure it wasn't the real thing.
I bought a dessert recipe book which I flipped through several times and which gave me some really good ideas.
I found myself thinking intensely about food. When my housemates discussed their MBA issues, I would be thinking about caramel sauce or a new type of paratha.
My friends will tell you that I could cook even before this stay in England. But cooking for others is what I learned here. Everyone doesn't like everything. When you live in a society you need to adapt. And I did. Not that anyone ever asked me to cook in a certain manner. But I was always aware that others are going to eat what I cook and that I must cook according to their tastes.
My housemates taught me loads of stuff. Priyanka taught me how to bake an eggless chocolate cake. What she made was awesome. They also made grilled chicken and fish and I am now entering the world of Indian non-veg cooking.
We all consumed several times more calories than we would have otherwise. So that is one point I need to work on. Maybe in my next visit to England I will unleash health-food experimentation on my poor housemates.
That's all for my culinary visit to England. More later! Cheers!

My blog

I've never really considered blogging, because I never thought that people had the time to read. But after seeing a few of my friends blog (and after having read the interesting things they wanted to say), I actually decided to do it. I was asked to write several times about some experiences I had as an Indian, living and working in a small town in France. But in the few years that I have been here, all I have managed is a half-page feature in a regional language newspaper in India.
I'm a language teacher by profession and right now I am in the middle of a very interesting study on phonetics and autonomous learning. This study will one day help me earn my doctorate....atleast I hope so.
Doing a doctorate is not easy and I am really worried about losing my motivation somewhere along the way. But now I am not alone in this. I have a companion who pushes me to do more and to give up my lethargic attitude.
Sitting next to him, I take my first step as a blogger. Cheers!