A little kingdom I possess,
Where thoughts and feelings dwell;
And very hard the task I find
Of governing it well.
~ Louisa May Alcott

...that more or less describes my situation!

 
I have had this question asked often, and am sure everyone asks and gets asked often enough, “what are you doing this weekend?”. Now, perfectly innocent and harmless though it is, I used to feel slightly uncomfortable under its mild scrutiny. People seem to expect one to be “doing something” over the weekend, so one feels slightly pressured to measure up somehow, “oh, I’ll be watching a movie” or “oh, I’ll be going to the mall” or “I’ll be catching up with a friend over lunch”, or sometimes even, like I have heard a few times, “I’ll be doing spring cleaning!” —anything to sound sufficiently occupied and busy and ‘blocked’ I guess!

At one point, I used to feel positively guilty to not have anything to say that may sound like my weekend was actually quite fruitful or exciting, in the way people would relate, especially if the people putting the question were the hyperactive kind, who could be doing any number of things and maybe juggling many at a time, without being the worse for the wear.

Now, what I think is this: What’s wrong with simply “being”, why should one be doing something all the time? What’s wrong with enjoying your own company, why should one be seeking company all the time? What’s wrong with just pottering around the house, picking a book, sharing things with the folks, dozing, eating, walking, thinking—basically, “doing nothing” or “nothing really exciting”. Which brings me closer to the point: Isn’t excitement different for different people? Maybe passive enjoyments like reading give me more pleasure than active enjoyments like hiking — but what’s wrong with that? Why should it mean that I am not taking advantage of my time as someone else who may be out and about does?

I guess I have resigned myself to the fact that you can never really explain things to people if they insist on looking at it through the prism of their own personality. I have stopped trying to fit my reality to better match others' perspectives. I realise I do myself a disservice and subject myself even more unfairly to others’ judgements. Now if someone asks, “So what are you doing this weekend?” and I respond, “nothing in particular”, and if I get a reaction that suggests “boring”, I don’t bother about it because, really, it isn’t—a cup of coffee with mom in the evening, chatting, gossiping, laughing, nibbling on murukkus, dunking khari biscuits, watching the evening fade into the night—need I anything more to make my day worth it? I look forward to these evenings more than anything else… but what do I say when you ask me, “what are you doing?". Small pleasures are the only pleasures we have in this life; looking back, I don’t think I would ever regret not going hiking!
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 8:16 pm 6 comments

 
Does life have meaning? Does life need to have meaning? Can there be a standard definition or yardstick for life’s meaning? Can philosophers define a meaning that every individual could evaluate their lives by? And if our life did not conform to the definition, would our lives be meaningless? Would a meaningless life mean an unhappy life? But if a happy life could be meaningless too, would that life be worth it? But then, if a meaningful life were unhappy, would that be worth it either?

Most important of all, what IS meaning?

Maybe this is one of those questions that holds the key to life itself.

Why are we always in search of a larger design or grand plan to life and our place in the scheme of things? If we were told that there is no plan, no design, it is all pure chance, pure randomness, you come into this world someday, things happen to you at random, and then one day you die, and then you are no more —would we accept it gracefully? How utterly meaningless and pointless life would seem to be!

Contrast this with the other theory that all this is a part of a larger significant plan and everything works according to that plan. It is not randomness but a carefully laid out chess board as it were where every piece has its place and where there are rules to how you play. Religion is that rule for some, pure actions for others, moral codes for some others, and what have you. How heartening to believe that what you sow, you shall reap, how well you play, you will be rewarded; your entire life gains a perspective, a reference point, you see a goal before you, you see some ‘meaning’ before you, you may not be sure what it is but just the fact that it’s there somewhere, however elusive, hidden in the game, waiting to be found, makes you want to wake up another day, makes you want to ‘live’ …makes you want to give your best to the game while you’re at it… and win in the eyes of the one who matters…in the way it matters…

Some say life must be lived and not analyzed… but isn’t that saying one must live in darkness and never look for light?
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 10:32 pm 7 comments

 
When I discovered blogging almost 10 years ago, it was new territory. There was no term called Social Media then, that I recall. As someone who loves to ponder on things and discuss them with like-minded people, I loved the idea of having a platform to do just that—to scribble away, to think aloud, to share my thoughts, to connect with whoever came along and could relate with what I had to say, to argue and debate, to meet minds all over the world… seemed like an exciting proposition!

I didn’t know where this would all lead to… but my blog grew to be a happy place for me by each passing day and the only thing I knew was, till the blog or I existed, it would be a part of my journey, recording my thoughts and impressions and even emotions, however subtly, as we went along… that has happily been true. My blog has been that one constant thing in my life among many inconstancies, and what is more, it has been a listening board when I just wanted to vent out to no one in particular. I guess it makes sense that I stopped writing a diary after my blog came in…

Being an intrinsically private person, it has been challenging at times to say what’s on my mind, without compromising on certain codes of behaviour that are important to me. I strongly believe in maintaining a certain dignity, whether it’s online or offline, and to me dignity encompasses being sensitive about what is public and what is personal, and not letting the two boundaries overlap.

Today, many years later, there is a whole new world called Social Media, and blogs are just a small part of this giant phenomenon. New platforms, tools, technologies all help you ‘connect’ with people, in one way or the other, and nobody’s life is now untouched by it. Everyone has a ‘voice’ now and everyone is exerting that voice. I wonder if it hasn’t become like the proverbial ‘bandar ke haath mein ustara’. Even a good thing can become dangerous in the hands of a person who doesn’t know how to use it. And the question that has been increasingly niggling me is, are we using these tools sensibly?

I tend to feel that people are giving free reign to their insecurities, their need for self-validation, their desire for attention in these spaces...there also appears to be an obsession to share every minute tidbit of one’s life, whether what one had for breakfast is of even the littlest interest to anyone else, doesn’t seem to be a cause for pause. We seem to be bombarded with or force-fed the most inane and banal of details of everybody’s lives everywhere we look around us, and the inconsequential seems to be taking over our very existence! We presumably are more ‘connected’ with everybody else now, but somehow there is a lot of emptiness… in the need to show how happy, lucky, friendly, wealthy, pretty etc we are, I somehow notice a lot of shallowness…

Sometimes it is difficult to say whether it is these tools that are reshaping our thoughts and behaviour and making us more vain and obsessed with ourselves, or whether these tools are just projecting the new reality, the inherent lack of depth and meaning in our society. I don’t know. I think it’s not about the medium or the tool, but about how we use it and what we do with it…the tool is just a mirror, and it can only be true to the face that looks into it. It can’t make ugly look pretty.

I feel Social Media has definitely brought tremendous positives into our lives; I needn’t look any further than my own blog. I also feel that while Social Media has increased the amount of noises and voices out there, at least, it’s made us the people a force to reckon with, for the same reason. It has brought the world closer and made us a global community in the true sense.

While being cynical is my nature, I don’t mind exploring the possibilities in things. In one of these moods, I recently landed on the micro-blogging site ‘Twitter’, and got myself a handle. And I have to admit it brought back some of the excitement I felt when I first created my blog. Maybe not so surprising because it shares many similarities with the blogging medium—you post blogs of 140 characters or less on anything that is of interest to you and people may choose to connect with you or ‘follow’ you as they say in Twitter terminology, if they want to continue listening to what you have to say. The good thing is you can choose to follow people who share your areas of interest, and be a part of only those conversations that add value either to your work or to yourself.

Social Media are here to stay and I would say that’s a good thing. Now, whether we use it to provoke terror (as in the recent UK riots) or to promote healthy dialoguing, is up to us… and would reflect where we are headed as a world…
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 8:12 pm 9 comments

 
A recent incident made me realise how arrogant and conceited people get when in power. And when they get that power in the first place because ‘we the public’ give it to them, you really wonder at it. Look at politics or media. I mean, aren’t politicians and journalists around to ‘serve’ people… do they do that honestly or committedly? The recent Murdoch case is enough said. And they have the cheek to flaunt a holier-than-thou arrogance! If it weren’t for us ordinary, non-powerful, non-influential, regular, common people, where would you be? What would you be? Remember your calling, which, like any other work, profession, occupation, is just ‘work’, but with a nobler motive. Do it honourably, stay humble, stay grounded, and count your blessings if we still ‘keep you in power’, whether we elect you or read you, and be justly thankful, like all of us are to our audience, clients, customers or whoever it is we strive to delight…

Here’s something that tickled me from this site schindler.org

***
[defining news]
Go out and find things that people want put in the paper
And things that people don't want put in the paper.
And interesting things.
Like that rain of dogs a few months ago?
There was no rain of dogs two months ago.
But...
One puppy is not a rain. It fell out of a window. Look, we are not interested in pet precipitation, spontaneous combustion, or people being carried off by weird things from out of the sky...
Unless it happens.
Well obviously we are if it does happen. But when it doesn't, we're not. Okay? News is unusual things happening...
And usual things happening...
And usual things, yes. But news is mainly what someone somewhere doesn't want you to put in the paper ...
Except sometimes it isn't.
...News all depends. But you'll know it when you see it. Clear? Right. Now go out and find some.
***
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 9:35 pm 2 comments

 
Goodbye is a word I have always hated. Maybe that is what makes me prolong the moment forever. I like to stick to things like glue and never say goodbye. Sometimes it does more harm than good… Good and harm… why do the things that feel so good, do so much harm?

I am going off on a tangent actually. I have changed my job after seven long years… it was a very strange feeling saying ‘goodbye’ after all these years… all these memories… all these moments… all the good times and bad times… but it had to be done, some time… and I have tried to put it off… as I always do… because I hate the final moment… the final bye byes… the final never coming back… I loved it and I hate to leave it… but I have to move on… have to grow… have to spread my wings… have to fly… have to see new places, new people, new things… have to explore… have to find myself…

I was reading this book and I felt there was some subtle message for me there… only when you let something free, do you really possess it… because it is then ‘essentially’ yours… not because you were binding it to yourself and holding it in a cage… because it intrinsically belongs… and no matter how far it flies… and how removed it is in distance… it still belongs… in its heart… and it must come back …

Fare well, dear old place… and thank you… will miss you…
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 6:02 pm 8 comments

 
Is the intention to commit a criminal action important in determining a person’s guilt? Or, is a criminal action in itself or of itself enough to prove a person’s guilt? Or, does the degree of guilt (and therefore punishment) in either case vary?

I was reading Herman Melville’s short story Billy Budd some time ago. More than a story, it is somewhat of a case study in how the letter of the law (in this case military law) can sometimes be at variance with the dictates of the human conscience, and how even when a judgement is ‘right’ in the eyes of the law, it may still seem ‘wrong’ in the eyes of God.

Without going into the exact details, let me summarise the main circumstances of the story. The action is set on board an English war ship in the latter part of the 18th century. Here is Billy Budd, a young sailor who is almost angelic in nature, innocence personified, who obviously cannot even hurt a fly, and there is an experienced, mean, evil minded man on board who somehow gets it into his head to land Billy in trouble, for no particular reason than for the fun his evil nature would derive to see an innocent suffer, and perhaps out of pure envy. The captain of the ship is a well respected, upright, man of principles, whose single-minded objective is to ensure that the ship’s war mission is achieved.

One day, the evil guy in pursuit of his aim to harm Billy accuses him of mutiny (rebellion) in the presence of the captain. The captain does not believe him and turns to Billy to demand an explanation. Billy, caught completely unawares by the accusation and having a tendency to lose his power of speech in overwhelming situations, knocks the evil guy on the forehead. The strength of the blow is such that the evil chap dies on the spot.

The captain is now required to take stock of the situation and pronounce a judgement. It is clear to him that there was no intention to kill and yet the military law of the time that he is duty-bound to uphold, says clearly that when a murder is committed, it deserves nothing but the highest punishment (death penalty). There is no provision in the law to take into account ‘intention’ or lack of it.

The story ends on a very sad note. The captain, in spite of his own conscience, complies with the letter of the law, and holds Billy guilty of murdering a senior officer. It does not matter if Billy intended to kill the officer or not. The officer is dead. Billy must hang.

If Billy was let off alive for killing a fellow officer, it may have led to mutiny, it may have led to more men killing each other, it may have led to the failure of the ship’s mission… no doubt, the military law was in existence to serve the interests of the military and the country at large, and not for securing justice to individuals. When one thinks about it, what should the captain have done?

The story made a powerful impact on me because I couldn’t but ask myself — what would I have done? The emotional side of me wanted to cry that someone as innocent as Billy, innocent as a babe, should have been hanged, for a crime he never intended to commit, for being a victim of circumstances that were forced on him. I only saw him as a poor victim and not a criminal. I did feel that his total lack of intention to commit an offence should have proved him ‘non-guilty’.

What made me think of this story? …the verdict in the Neeraj Grover murder case that was out yesterday. Seems quite unrelated but it actually made me re-evaluate the ethical dilemma posed by Billy’s story.

I have been vaguely following the Neeraj Grover murder case in the papers since it happened 3 years ago—I admit my attention was first drawn to it because of the bizarre and horrifying circumstances of the crime as reported in the media. I remember shuddering when I read that Maria Susairaj, the co-accused, had apparently gone to a mall to buy weapons and a bag, and later both Emile Jerome and Maria cut up Neeraj’s body into “300” pieces, put it into the bag, and burnt it in the jungles of Manor.

The court’s decision to let off Maria with 3 years’ term—which she has already spent in jail—and Emile with 10 years, stumped me to put it very mildly. The reasoning, from what I understood, was that it was a ‘crime of passion’ committed by Emile Jerome when he found his girlfriend Maria in a compromising situation with Neeraj. He apparently had no intention or premeditated plan to kill him. After the deed was done, Maria says that she was ‘pressurised’ to go buy tools and a bag at a nearby mall, which they later used to gruesomely cut up and burn Neeraj Grover.

Maria then landed up at a police station with Neeraj’s friend, as innocent as you please, to file a missing person’s complaint.

Maria has been given a 3 years’ sentence for ‘destruction of evidence’, it would seem, the said destruction of evidence being the act of cutting up the body and burning it. And Emile Jerome has been given 10 years because it was a crime of passion and he apparently did not mean to murder Neeraj.

The fact is, in this Neeraj Grover case, the judge seems to have taken into account ‘intention to commit a crime’ and though in Billy Budd’s case I strongly felt ‘intention’ should have been considered, in this case I feel such a ‘consideration’ has actually led to a dilution of justice. I feel shocked at the lightness with which a crime of such a disgusting magnitude has been dealt with. I feel shocked that Maria walks free today, that Emile will walk free after 7 years.

I do believe that an ‘intention’ to commit a crime should have a bearing in determining a person’s guilt and subsequent punishment. I also feel that when a crime is committed in the face of extreme provocation, it needs to be dealt with leniency. For example, if a woman who is being raped smashes a man’s head in that moment to defend herself, the woman certainly cannot be meted out a punishment for murder like any common murderer.

But, in the Neeraj murder case, could we say Emile acted in the face of extreme provocation, which the phrase ‘crime of passion’ would suggest? It is at once a tricky question because what’s extreme provocation for me may be mild for you. It can be argued that it was extremely provoking for him to see his girlfriend in a compromising situation with another man in her house in the wee hours of the night (it is another matter that the said girlfriend was definitely not acting against her will). Even if we grant him ‘provocation’, what sets this case totally apart for me, and what makes me absolutely unsympathetic towards viewing it as a simple ‘crime of passion’, is what happened ‘after’ the crime was committed.

The brutal, inhuman, degrading, disgusting, horrifying abuse of Neeraj’s corpse, just after the murder was committed, suggests in one word ‘cold bloodedness’—to get intimate with each other after the gruesome deed is done, to go to a mall and buy a weapon for destruction, to cut the body into pieces, to put them in a bag, take it to a jungle and burn it—does this suggest the act of a person who committed a crime in a moment of passion? does this suggest intrinsic innocence gone wrong? does this suggest basic goodness with no intention towards evil or crime? Yes, Neeraj was a dead man already when they mutilated him, but is it a ‘technical’ difference? The moment he was murdered, did a living, breathing man suddenly become nothing more than a piece of ‘evidence’, which the two ‘destroyed’? The intention towards the ‘body’ of this man is not the same as the intention towards a ‘living’ man? The cold bloodedness that is required to kill cannot be established towards the ‘living’ man but what does it show if not cold bloodedness that could actually make them commit what they did later? And, for this horrendous act, Maria walks free today and Jerome will after 7?

Had it been another Billy Budd story, Neeraj Grover’s murderers would have to die without question because the act of taking away a life was committed, whether intentional or not… The utter callousness with which such life was taken, with which such life was destroyed, cannot be equated with innocence that acted in the face of grim provocation or extreme passion. I don’t believe in an eye for an eye… but neither can I come to grips with the fact that I am living in a society and in the ambit of a judiciary where a life means so very little… where the dead deserve so very little… Billy Budd’s imaginary story suddenly seems a lot less heart rending, compared with the real world alternative…
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 6:37 pm 0 comments

 
A feature in today’s edition of Brunch, the Hindustan Times’ Sunday magazine, got me thinking. It was about relationships and how relationships these days are so much about individual choices than about the family, community or religion, as they used to be. Individual choices have thrown up new ways of approaching relationships such as live-ins, open marriages, and what not, and people no more care whether these choices impact anyone else but themselves. Contrary to a time when people used to take many things and people into consideration when it came to the decision to marry or the decision to separate, these days the worry is limited to themselves. I, me, myself. The individual is king.

When I think about it in a general sense, and going by my own system of thought, I see predominance of the individual as a good thing. I don’t believe in doing something because someone else says so, does so, it’s what one should do, it’s what my religion says, that’s how it always was done, etc etc. It is your life, and it has to be your choice, as long as it does not harm another human being, and does not stamp or tamper with anyone else’s freedom to make choices, you choose.

But, dig a little deeper, and I ask myself, is it that simple? We all exist in a community of people, and we all want to act as individuals, with our own independent way of thinking and being, and that’s all very good, but when such independence is carried to an extreme that it starts threatening the very fabric or structure or framework on which the community or society itself is built, is it really a good thing? I don’t want to be misunderstood here. I am not referring to the idea of live-ins or open marriages or any such arrangements as contrary to a healthy society or community—as I said earlier, I believe that every individual must have the right to decide and do what works for them, and no one can dictate that for them—but I must say that the question arises for me, in such a scenario where every individual operates as a society unto himself, with their own rules and values, how does the society thrive, or indeed, survive? How do we all live in harmony if we only look out for ourselves? Our emotions? Our pleasures? Do we need institutions like marriage, family, and so on to be in harmony? Marriage or family itself means putting a unit’s interests over that of oneself, so can we even function as a family if we want to be so fiercely individualistic? Is that why families break so easily nowadays because we just cannot be more than me? Where do our kids find the kind of support that we used to find earlier, if marriages and family units don’t exist anymore? How wholesome would such children be? And what about their children? All in all, is our individuality, our thirst for no-bonds, no-strings, taking us to a happier frame of mind, a happier world, where all are happy in their individual worlds, or is it taking us to a collective desert where everyone is lonely and imprisoned in their own world with no one to reach out to?

--------

Been reading John Donne, one of my favourite poets. The high point of his poetry is his ability to combine the intellect with emotion, and win your heart by engaging your head.

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
—John Donne
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 9:54 pm 6 comments

 
Memories grown old
fall like dry leaves over my balcony
I hold them
caressingly, quiveringly
afraid I will tear them, break them, lose them
Memories caught in instants of time
freezing vistas and faces and things
frames that capture more than photos
Each embedded with sweet, sometimes sad
drops of feeling
Lost in time, yet never to be lost
like dry leaves with everlasting souls
that fly away skywards
to become little specks in the sky
twinkling in the night
glistening on my cheeks...

(by me)
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 10:39 pm 8 comments

 
No one can give-
to me-
that peace, which
my ris-en Lord, my ris-en King
can give.

Wish you all a very Happy Easter! :)
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 12:46 pm 0 comments

 

Poetry was my greatest love when I was younger. And then life took over. One of my professors said that everyone is a poet till the age of 20... To sustain the passion after that is the mark of a true poet. I guess he is right. Felt like doodling with lines after a long time yesterday...

What avails emotion
Where no object is fair
What use are tears
When life is all about care
Nothing ever changes
Night follows each day
Nature works by rules
Man has no say...
Time is the best healer
And time the cause of pain
Loss is much the sharper
Little is the gain...

posted by Sylvia D'souza at 8:17 pm 1 comments

 

When you admit people into your life, you don't know for how long, and what purpose they are meant to serve in the grander scheme of things. And then, one day they just leave...willingly or unwillingly, leave you to pick up the pieces of your own life. You wonder why they ever came then, why they made things a little easier, a little more rosier, little more happier by their presence, if they one day had to leave, and leave everything a lot more worse. Or maybe, it is not a lot more worse. They do help you grow when they are there, help you move ahead, a little more ahead in the journey called life. Their company makes that little bit of journey smooth. Then suddenly, when they leave, you feel forlorn and alone at that spot, recollect the days when the path didn't seem so rough, or when the journey ahead so empty, and your eyes melt, and you wonder if life is worth it at all. Who could have said it better than the bard:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.

posted by Sylvia D'souza at 10:25 am 4 comments

 

Another year gone by, and this year I didn't get the time to make a blog entry on my birthday. I also felt it was time to break this tradition; the problem with me is I do things consistently by nature and a pattern comes in for no apparent reason and then I follow the pattern just because there is one! Sounds confusing, I know, but that's me :)

My horoscope this month says "You've got many pots on your stove, bubbling away. All of it is due to come to something amazing." Any wonder I love reading horoscopes...? How do they do that? Everytime you read one of these things, you get this feeling that they know your secret plans, plans which even you didn't know about, till they actually spelt it out for you!

This week the theme at mass was "promises". I am personally very sticky about promises (probably it goes with my consistency loving nature). I believe that if you say you will do something, you do it and nothing can or should stop you (In this matter, I am with Salman Khan...ek baar meine committment kar di toh ... :)). What the priest said was interesting--promises are given to give a certain sense of security; isn't marriage a promise? isn't insurance a promise? But, why are promises kept? That is more interesting. They are kept because they give you a sense of integrity. In other words, only if you are a person of integrity, would you keep your promises. There was this person who promised to visit his friend every Tuesday in the hospital and he continued to do that for some time, till his friend went into a coma. That Tuesday another of his friends got a ticket to a grand show and tried convincing him to join him for the show. He argued that since the sick friend was anyway in a coma, he wouldn't know whether he visited him or not, and it wouldn't make a difference to him. This man replied, "It may not make a difference to him, but it will make a difference to me. To know that I kept my promise."

posted by Sylvia D'souza at 9:06 pm 2 comments

 

Last Wednesday at Church (I attend the Novena mass every Wednesday morning at the famous Mahim church), the priest made some very interesting observations about New Year resolutions. He said that a New Year resolution must be SMART (Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, Time-bound). I was quite impressed by how the mnemonic summed it up beautifully! He said, and I quite agree, that most of the time we forget the resolution before we are even into February. It’s been quite true of me. I don't plan a resolution consciously every year, but come the first day of the year, I notice myself making a mental note of something I want to do differently this year. The idea is good and if I hold on it, I'm sure I would benefit in a big way, but before I know it, I have even forgotten I had decided to actually "do" or "not do" something. Back to square one when the next year arrives.

In the light of my own experiences, I felt the SMART principle had something in it. I think all goals should have these qualities. The example he gave was, if I say I want to lose some weight this year, it’s too vague for me to be even bothered about. But, if I say, I will lose 5 kgs in the next 3 months, it is specific, it is measurable, it is attainable (ok, let's assume it is), it is realistic (umm.. I guess?), it is time-bound. Much better chances of something coming out of this resolution.

I have not made a resolution yet, but I hope to come up with something SMART soon! :)

I have been reading up a little on phonology recently (as part of my studies), and I almost feel like I have been entirely unexposed to one of the most important aspects of a language, namely, the sound of it. I love the English language and I find it strange that I never thought so much about the inconsistencies in the way the English language is spelt and spoken—why is "so" pronounced "soh" and "to" pronounced “too”?! We have laughed at this before but I have only now started thinking—how is a non native speaker of English supposed to know whether "so" should be spoken as "soh" or as "soo" just by reading it?! We are lucky to be brought up on heavy doses of English, but when the words get more complicated, like say, "alveolar", how in the world are we to know what the word must sound like, if letters can arbitrarily change their sounds in individual words? All I can say is, I’m enjoying my foray into the world of English phonetics, and I am actually starting to think about sounds of languages like I never thought before. Say for example, my mom, who grew up in Karnataka (Mangalore) with Kannada and Tulu as first languages, is not yet comfortable with Hindi. When she wants to say “Khakra”, she says "Kakra", and the other day when she wanted to say "Bhai", she said "Bai". Earlier I would have just giggled at her South Indian accent, but now I ask myself—does this mean that Kannada lacks sounds such as "kh" and "bh" and the person starts using the sounds that are closest to what they are aiming at? Then I have this Bengali friend with whom I have almost come to blows because I think it is "wada paav" and he positively swears it is "wara paav". It doesn’t matter if he says "khara hoon" instead of "khada hoon" and "thora time" instead of "thoda time". Do we see a pattern here? Think about the way Russians or the Chinese speak English. It seems Chinese does not have the sound "th" and they end up using “s”, which now reminds me how I used to hear something like a "sought" when my boss (when I was in Hong Kong) wanted to say “thought” !

I always believed that language is one of the pillars that make up a culture, so to speak, but I always thought of language in terms of "meaning", altogether ignoring the "sound" of it; a lovely poem on "Sound and Sense" by Pope comes to mind:

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,

As those move easiest who have learned to dance.

'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense,

The sound must seem an echo to the sense:

posted by Sylvia D'souza at 8:29 pm 2 comments