Notes From Qutub

My wife was 100% right.

"You won't be able to handle her"


"You don't know me," I retorted.

"Hello, I know you better than you know yourself!" she cooed in a confidence-soaked voice.

Arrogance. Over confidence. I will prove her wrong, I told myself.

What am I talking about?

Well... A few sec, please...

Hmm.

It all began with a phone call a week ago.

"Aap Rameshji hai?", the caller on my mobile phone asked.

I 'yes'sed.

"Aap Angrezy and Economics padathe ho?"

"Haan"

"Mein, first year BA Economics student hoon. Mera exams June-July mein hai. Aap mujhe madat kar sakte hain?

"Why not?"

"Kaab aaon?"

"How about kaal?"

"Theek hai, Sirji. Kaal mein aaonga."

"Saath bhaje ke baad aana"

I felt glad as the phone line went dead.

"What? Tuition?" my wife asked.

"Yes."

Jacques Kallis of Royal Challengers just slammed a super duper six over the sight screen and the crowd was going berserk on my TV screen. I was in same league. Supremely happy.

Teaching is something I love. Had taught two 'O' level students for the finals six years ago in Economics. Still remember the thrice a week visit to the phosh Jor Bagh residence of the taught between 7 and 8 p.m.

It ran for three months before something more interesting pulled me out of Delhi to Udipi for a visiting faculty post teaching Business communication at TAPMI. But it did not materialise. AGain it was teaching that drew me.

I have never been a qualified teacher. You know what I mean? No B.Ed.

But the urge to partake whatever little knowledge I possess is immeasurable.

I love economics. Three decades after passing out with a Degree in Economics and un-missed exposure to economic and business reporting and analysis has made me feel economics is pure common sense - perhaps like any other subject.

Consumer surplus. Indifference curve. Law of Diminishing marginal returns. Mathusian thoery of population. Fiscal deficit. Capital Expenditure. Rolling Stock of railways. Balance of trade and balance of payment crisis. And a lot more. All these phrases are music to my ears, so to say.

English is another area of interest. I presume I speak well. Nobody doubted that ability till now. Am no babe in written form as well. Much more powerful perhaps on paper than when I speak.

So when the caller requested whether I can guide her in English and economics, I just could not resist the temptation and agreed.

On the appointed time, S... (sorry, can't reveal her name!) pressed the doorbell. Zack, my three-and-a-half year old Lhasa Apso breed, greeted her with the loudest bark possible. I could make out she had a phobia for dogs.

"Sirji, dog bi rahega kya?"

"Don't worry. It is tied. It won't come near you," I tried to persuade her.

My spouse came to my rescue by taking Zack into another room.

S entered, but Zack's barking continued non-stop. Half of her concentration on Zack.

"Tell me, what you expect from me?"

"Sirji, mera first year exams June mein hai. Mujhe bilkul Angrezi nahi aati hai. Aap mujhe grammar mein expert banana bada hai."

I was stoned, to be honest.

"Doosri baath hai ki - mein aaj a company join kiya hoon. Sablok Angrezi mein baat karte hein. Mujhe bhi un jaisa fast Angrezi bolna hai. ... Woh bi do meine mein."

"What about economics?"

"Sorry. Mein bhool gayi hoon. Aap mujhe hindi mein economics sikna hai."

Economics in hindi?

Tough call.

By then, an urgent international call came which I could not avoid. So for the next 10 minutes I was chatting unmindful of the presence of S from the other room.

When I returned to the study room where S was seated, she blurted out: "Sirji, aap jaise abhi kar rahe te, waise yi mujhe bi angrezi bolna hai."

"Before June, you mean?"

She could not understand. So I repeated in Hindi and she nodded.

She was genuine. Can understand her desire to become a master. To show off her mastery over Angrezi in the shortest possible time. Impossible, my inner voice told me.

I pointed to various objects lying around and asked her to give English equivalent. She could not pass muster. Out of 20 objects, she barely could say English equivalent for 3 objects alone.

"Sirji, mujhe eyh sab cheeze ka name hindi mein maloom hai. Lekin, Angrezi nahi."

I could make out what must be going through her mind. Thinking in mother tongue and trying to translate into English.

"What is your mother tongue?"

"Tongue kya hota hai, Sir?"

I unspooled my memory to the late 1960s. I was like her then. Used to think inTamil and then try to translate into English. Poor English vocabulary made me cry a lot.

For the next 45 minutes, I made her talk in broken English from whatever limited vocabulary she possessed.

No doubt, it was 95% hindi and 5% English.

"Sirji, tuition paisa kitne dena padega?"

I smiled and told her: "No fees. Come daily 7 p.m. for an hour. We will talk about everything under the sun. About Kareena Kapoor. Shahid Kapoor. "

She remained quiet. Must have felt that I am not interested in handling her.

On the contrary, my resovle to do something like what Prof Higgens did to Miss DoLittle "My Fair Lady" (the film adaption of George Bernard Shaw's Pygmolion) flooded my memory.

"Do you know Kapil Dev could not speak good English when he began his cricket career? Do you know, even now Sachin Tendulkar's English is pathetic?"

Silence greeted me.

"Everything is possible. Thoda menath chaahiye"

"Go home. Begin talking to your mother, sisters and brothers at home in toota boota Angrezi.Yes, they will laugh at you. But you will gain confidence. Come back and tell me. Record the entire conversation on your mobile and bring it back. I will tell you where you make a mistake."

By the way, she was recording all our conversation on her mobile. Perhaps she would play back the same at home and tell her folks: "mamma, mujhe aise Angrezi bolna ichcha hai."

I don't know. She never returned. I have not met her since then, though she lives in the neighbourhood.

But the last frame as she left my home that night is still vivid in my memory. When will I speak such effortless Angrezi? was the message that flashed from S. I could relate to that feeling. Because I was like her at one stage in my life.

Did I not tell you at the beginning that my wife was 100% right? Yes, I simply could not handle S.