lingui-stuck

Gadaf Khan: "Jee haan, hamare mein guggu... goobe... Khabristan mein, hunse jhaad mein kuntkandi, murda henage tinkandu badko jaanvar." (Guggu= owl in kannada. Goobe= owl in Shivajinagar Urdu. Definition of an owl- In graveyard, sitting on Tamarind tree, eating dead body, and thus living creature)
Shetty: "Idemi? Vipareetam aipoya..." (What this is? (in telugu) Bizaare (kannada) it became (Malayalam))
-- Saabara Kathe, by T.P. Kailasam, who wrote all his works in a kichdi version of Kannada.

"None could use Kannada with all its nuances like Kailasam did, and his mother tongue, incidentally, was Tamil. One could hardly contain one's laughter when one overheard a retake of Kailasam's character in the neighbourhood medical shop.
There was this little Muslim girl asking: "Maamo, maamo, ammange bedhi hogaya kate, maatre dee maamo." (Maamo, mummy got loose motion, give tablet, maamo)
And guess what the Shetty had to ask in his own brand of Urduised Kannada? "Nungne ka, cheepne ka?" (nung = swallow in kannada. cheep= sip in kannada)

And this one was heard at a local bus stand: "Bisil mein khadku khadku sust aagaya so" (In heat standing standing, tired came off)
Kailsam, in one of his short poems, 'Uptodate Sakhi: Tanna Gelatiyarige', writes about our proclivity to use generous doses of English in our daily conversation.
"Yeni garden-u bahala silly, nodalu not a rose or lily, waste of time-u walking illi..." (What this garden is verrry silly, to see not a rose or lily, waste of time to walk here)
And this one: "Mane coxtown-u, manushya hen-pecked-u" (this will be lost in translation, so i'm not trying)
So, when you hear a Tamil shopkeeper say: "Adondu bandu 25 roobaayi", you know it is a transliteration from the original Tamil "Aduvandu iruvattanj roobai". Not to forget "Maga Ganabathi" for Maha Ganapathi and "Cunnikamba Road" for Cunningham Road. When you hear phrases with extensive use of plurals such as "Talegalella novu" or "Saana bedhigalu agtaite" you know for sure it is the Telugu influence on Kannada. "

---Excerpt from Deepa Ganesh's article in The Hindu, on Oct. 30, 2003, on the eve of Kannada Rajyotsava, with my translation inputs

Maybe Kannada is dying a fast death, at least in Bangalore for sure. And as one of my friends put it, "Even distortion is part of a language's evolution, if it means better communication".
But every time someone says "Straight hogi, Left togoli, Adjust maadkoli", an image of a man (with 'Kannada' written in the jalebi script on his forehead) bleeding to death pops in my head. Simultaneously, I stomp my foot on the ground about the kichdi language being so Bangalore that I ought to be holding on to it. "Suryange torcha?" or "Nangey fitting madthiyaa?" never fails to make someone laugh. Or surely get the message.
So maybe I'm a non-kannadiga getting all thrilled listening to "Huttidhare kannada naadal hutta beku!" (If you're born, it must be in Kannada land). But I also flare up when someone who isn't familiar with Tamil, curses people in Chennai for not being cosmopolitan enough to speak in any other language. I mean, why must they? They've never had the need to.
Unlike Tamil, Kannada never had a major language movement. If it did, it was never political. It was always anti-tamil and anti-askers-of-Kaveri-water. I've also sung "Endindigoo nee Kannadavaagiru" (Be a Kannadiga forever) a thousand times in Rajyotsava competitions, my heart swelling with pride when I actually show off the 'Tipu Sultan', 'Kuvempu', 'Kempegowda' biographies (written in Kannada) they gave as prizes. I know how insecure kannadigas must feel if they need to be jingoistic enough to stone theatres playing non-kannada movies. But even today, 'Sen Tamizh, pon Tamizh vazhga' (Long live golden/pure tamizh) makes me nod.
Come to think of it, two homes are better than one. And two native languages, even if at loggerheads, are better than one.