Language: A Reason, season or treason?

Language is like friction, a necessary evil. It can bring out important dimensions of a culture that may be otherwise hidden and it can also take humans to the flash point quickly. Here are my two experiences with French language…diametrically opposite in the same week.

So, what did the English do to French and what did French do to the English? Or should I be asking what did the English and French do to the hot and sweaty Indian? That night under the cool breeze of the English fan, I asked myself : are they languages born out of reason, season or treason?

 

The language of reason: I am not French literate, and I have no idea about the language, usage and how words moved into English or was adapted (may be stolen, hijacked or even pawned by the French?) by English Language. Btw, statistics says 28% of English words are from French, but nobody will give you the percentage of words whose English adaption is very appalling, discriminatory and not inclusive. A week after I arrived, I sat down to fill the necessary paperwork to get my resident card and when I had to choose my status, which made me ask  what did the English do to French?

 

Celibataire – in French simply refers to a single and doesn’t say anything about vow or abstinence

Celebate – in English refers to an individual who has taken a vow (often religious) to practice abstinence and stay single

Concubinage – simply refers to co-habitation without legally married in French and is a legally accepted status in a French Government application

Concubine – refers to an illegal wife or mistress in English – puts women in dark light or treats her like a social outcast and an object or toy of pleasure and ridicule

But, why do adaption of French words into English language target status, physically intimacy and portray them in a bad light? Is English language really judgmental, narrow-minded and less tolerant to various engagements an individual prefers to hold? Aren’t simple words given complex societal interpretation across the English Channel? Is this the sea of change between French and English? To me, the French language seemed more accommodative and inclusive, less discriminative, and socially more liberal and accepting.

The language of season: Fans are a standard fitting in our homes in India now rapidly replaced with

air-conditioners and when I found neither of them in Paris, I was pleasantly (not really) surprised. May be the architects, residents and even the weathermen swear that the city never gets that hot and hence finds no place in a house? And my arrival was just in time to test the Parisian weather and reality of no fans and air-conditioners. After experiencing a long, humid and harrowing summer in India, I arrived in Paris just in time for the summer. Call it a double whammy or an extra dose of Vitamin D, I don’t care.

 

Especially this year, people have been complaining about long winters and a direct jump into summer with no spring. And when it hit 35 deg C yesterday, the locals started to complain and went one step ahead to create a supply demand situation at the home stores.

And I made a trip to the store and asked the salesman for a fan and received no response from him.  I felt it was my strong accent and gave it another try, and this time I was slow and gentle. He still had a puzzled look on his face. I didn’t know what to understand from his silence and I decided to help myself. Unable to find one, I exited the store and proceeded to another one. I was met with similar silence and a cold response when I asked for a fan. 

Even a small child will know what a fan is, but Parisians had no clue. What would be a breeze in any English literate nation, really turned out to be Greek in France. More than the heat, the inability to explain frustrated me more.

And this time I was persistent to get an answer. I made gestures with my hand, I showed him the ceiling, and finally asked the sales guy for piece of paper. And when I drew a picture of a fan, he yelled “ventilateur ”. But I was looking for a fan not a ventilateur, a breathing device used in hospitals. And I felt like I was on a ventilateur trying to describe the simplest flywheel that uses electricity to make breeze. But then I had no clue if he was referring to a fan or a de-humidifier or an air-conditioner. With more confusion swirling my hot temper, I left the store.

To add to my frustration, that store was also out of it. Now that I knew the terminology “ventilateur” I hunted the neighborhood stores for one. To add to the heat of weather and complex words in French, most stores had an announcement at the entrance publicizing the non-availability of ventilatuers and asking customers to check back in a few days.

 

That evening after my grueling experience with a French word, I found an "English Fan" in the store below my flat. I rejoiced! And what rejoicing that was when I found the manual of instructions in English and, I mean, in English only!

 

Rue de Paris or Rude Paris!

This is my 12th move in 15 years and that averages a move every 18 months. And my kith & kin, near & dear must be tired of updating their phone books with my new number and keeping track of my moves, I don’t blame them. But I have always had interesting stories for them. It has been 5 days since I landed and I am already finding my roots here. Here are some interesting experiences.

 

Rue de Paris or Rude Paris?

Paris can be tough if you don’t speak French and I felt the pain many North Indians experience when they land in Chennai. Houria, my dear colleague was around to help me get over the language barrier. She helped me get a mobile connection, cable and internet at home, ofcourse the most important a bank account! God bless Houria!

Before I moved into the house, a surveyor (a Public servant) inventoried the contents and condition with a dictaphone and camera. He even examined the condition of the mattress, counted the number of spoons, knives, glasses and plates. To me this looked like an Income tax raid back home. And the real estate agent, like many others, was greedy and was asking me to recommend him to others at my work place. You need to look at the picture album below to find out what I inherited from the earlier tenant.

Rue de convenience
I am going to recommend to the Municipality of Paris to rename the street where I stay to “rue de convenience”. Below my apartment is a supermarket, a laundromat, a grocery store, a pharmacy. 500m from home is Oberkampf metro station, and LCL bank. Across from my home is a bakery, and Pierre Sang’s restaurant (a Korean a master chef who serves a 6 course French meal with Korean touch and people queue up from 6 pm for dinner that opens at 7pm).

 

Making a boiling start
A Tamil proverb goes “Amma katti kodutha sorum and solli kodutha varathaiyum yetthanai nalaikku?” which means how long will mother’s words of wisdom and food from her kitchen last? I remembered this proverb when I started to set up the new kitchen. Don’t we all need to cook our own food and develop our own wisdom to lead our life?

Keeping up with the South Indian tradition, I boiled milk. Since it was late in the evening, I couldn’t invite anyone for a little get together and serve milk and fruits. But still gave a traditional start to my life in Paris. And this news would make my grandmother feel proud and happy. I imagined grandmother next me as I boiled the milk for the 12th time in 15 years.

 

Finding roots and making it home

Like animals humans are also territorial and we find our space by leaving our pug marks and scent. And when I finally unpacked the 4 boxes not only did I find a home for my belonging, but also created my own space that I can come back to at the end of every day. Another way of feeling at home is to discover a portion of your country in the new place. It could be a small temple, music from back home, or a store that sells our spices. A trip to La Chapelle makes you happy, nostalgic and takes your back to your root. Apart from Saravana Bhavan and Sangeetha, I found drumstick (Bhagyaraj remedy or comedy or malady?), jasmine flowers, bitter gourd, dosa & idli batter and mangoes from Pakistan that rarely comes to India. At the Cash & Carry store, I picked up Toor dal for Sambar, Rice, broken wheat for upma, chilli powder, some raisins and cashews to make payasam. I am yet to make a trip to the Ganesha temple at rue de Pajol, but I saw a poster at the grocery story about the car festival for Ganesha on September 1.

My maternal grandmother takes so much comfort in cooking and feeding, visiting temples and when I call her this week I will I will have stories to make her feel elated. She may even want to visit me in Paris, who knows?

Fear of the unknown
The first night at the apartment, I was a little scared and felt unsettled (like many girls and boys). Yes, it was the fear of the unknown! I didn’t know who lived there and if the vibes of the place was good. If I consumed alcohol, then a few shots would have calmed me down. But instead I tired myself throughout the day from unpacking, shopping, and doing other chores and soothing music from back home helped me land instantly in slumberland. And next morning when I woke up I felt rested and rejuvenated and it was beginning to feel like home. 

Every day begins with filter coffee
For a South Indian, that too a Tamil Brahmin (Tam Brahm) a day doesn’t begin without piping hot South Indian Filter coffee. Paris may be famous for expresso, but can it match up to our filter coffee? I played old Tamil film songs from 60s, 70s, 80s (mostly MSV, Illayaraja) and started to cook. And I kept the French windows open to let the waft of our spices and music invigorate Rue Oberkampf in Paris (arrond. 11). Want to know what I cooked on day 1? Aha!

A story is born from our interpretation of a place and life, so flip through the album for a short glimpse of my Paris - https://picasaweb.google.com/108289564546757100555/ParisParis#

 

Don’t be scared to visit me in Paris and be rest assured that I will make you feel at home. Merci Beacoup!