Gender agreement in Hindi

I was telling the story that I blogged about in my previous post to someone in Guwahati. When I got to the part where I was saying 'I don't understand Hindi', I told her I'd said:

मुझ को हिन्दि नहिँ आती है।
mujh ko hindi nahiin aatii hai.
(lit. 'To me Hindi does not come').

She burst into laughter and exclaimed, "But you're not a woman!"

This raised a rather interesting linguistic question for me. The issue here was that I had used the feminine participle of the verb 'to come': आती aatii where she had expected the masculine singular form आता aataa.

Now, what I'd learnt in my few weeks of Hindi lessons from a tutor from Lucknow was that in Hindi, all nouns have grammatical gender (like other Indo-European languages such as French and Russian) and that verbs agree with their subject in gender and number. In French, for instance, some verbs agree with their subject for number and gender in the passé composé 'compound past tense', e.g. Le jour de gloire est arrivé. 'The day of glory has come', but Les pluies sont arrivées. 'The rains have come' because jour 'day' is masculine and singular while pluies 'rains' is feminine and plural. (Note that the difference is only visible in the written language.)

In a clause like mujh ko hindi nahiin aatii hai, the grammatical subject is actually hindi, which I am told is a feminine noun. The form of the 1st person singular mujh ko has an oblique case, which translates to something like 'to me'. Therefore, what I was doing was making the verb agree in gender with the noun in subject position. However, I've been told that outside the main Hindi speaking regions of Uttar Pradesh (including Lucknow where my  tutor was from), and outside what is prescribed as 'grammatically correct' Hindi, subject-verb agreement is not as strict as how I'd applied it.

It's also obvious from my friend's reaction that the verb needed to agree with the 1st person singular mujh ko (who is male), even though morphologically it was marked for the oblique case.

This is not to say that what I had said was wrong, or that my friend was wrong, it's just that there are various varieties (and registers) of Hindi that are spoken across India. In some varieties, agreement of the kind I used is expected, but in others, it sounds either pretentious or just plain silly!

Responsibility, Racism and Recharging a prepaid SIM card

As you can guess from the title, this post is about responsibility, racism and trying to recharge a prepaid SIM card (with a phone company whose name starts with 'R' incidentally).

It happened about 2 weeks ago at a little shop in Paltan Bazar. The credit on the SIM card that I use for my 3G mobile internet had expired after just one month and I needed to buy more credit. Now, this wasn't the first time I've had to recharge a SIM card - it's something I have to do constantly when I'm here, especially since I'm only ever here for a few months at a time and don't have a fixed address in India.

The shop I had gone to previously wasn't opened, since it was still 9am, so when I walked past an open shop, I asked the guy there (in Assamese and English) if he could recharge my SIM. He said he could, so I thought, why not. As is common practice here, I gave him the number to recharge, he paid the phone company using the credit on his phone as a dealer, and he got a reply message saying the amount I'd asked for had been credited. So I handed over the Rs 1,099/- (which is not a small sum for monthly internet) plus his service charge / fee.

The only problem: I didn't get a confirmation message immediately, and couldn't get connected to the internet. I told the guy, and he said it would take 15 minutes, which in my experience, shouldn't have been the case. I sat there next to the shop and waited 15 minutes, and still nothing. He then said it was a 'system error' and would take half an hour.

Yeah right, I thought. But I needed breakfast, so I went to get something to eat.

Half an hour later, still nothing. So I went back.

I told him I still hadn't received a message and that my internet still wasn't reconnected. He checked the number of the SIM on my computer, and the number I had given him was correct.

He said he'd done the top-up and that "This is not my problem". I told him that he needed to call customer care to find out what went wrong, but he kept repeating that this was no longer his problem. I told him in my best Assamese (with bits of English thrown in) that I was supposed to receive a message, and that I didn't. I'd given him my money, but received nothing. He insisted that he had done the top-up, then started speaking to me in Hindi.

At this point, I raised my voice and said in broken Hindi that I didn't understand Hindi, which is true - I'd only done a few classes of Hindi with tutor about 4 years ago. He grumbled, saying something about how I could speak Assamese, but not Hindi.

Eventually, I dialed the customer care service number and got him to speak to them. He started speaking to the lady on the phone in Hindi. I heard the word 'tribal', followed by 'doesn't understand Hindi', said in Hindi, which ironically I could understand, because that's one of the first phrases I learn in any language. He hung up shortly after, with absolutely nothing resolved.

This of course led to more yelling on my part. I was furious. He said I had to go to the customer office myself. I told him I didn't have time for that - I was going to be late for a meeting at the university. I started to blame him - I mean, I've given him all that money and got nothing in return. It was his job to top up my credit, and that job hadn't been done. What's worse, as a foreigner here, it's much harder for me to locate offices and other addresses here (given the lack of a proper address system) and there's the language barrier to consider when I'm trying to ask people on the street for directions.

Eventually, I left the guy and made it to the customer service office, which was in the opposite direction from where I was meant to be heading, but at least I knew where it was because I had previously spent half a day looking for it a month and a half before. When I got there, I explained that the top-up had been successful. The problem was that the first shop where I'd purchased the SIM card out in Adabari hadn't submitted my documents to the main office. I told them I'd already managed to recharge the card successfully at another shop in Paltan Bazar a month before, and didn't see why it should fail now. They said that it sometimes happened when the documentation wasn't submitted.

I didn't quite see the logic, but after a second trip to the office they managed to get me reconnected within two days. Given the amount of time I had to spend at the office (which only opened at 10am), and the distance to the university, I pretty much had to write off those two days.


Now looking back at the situation, I knew it wasn't the guy at the shop's fault - the amount I'd paid him had been deducted from his phone and he received the confirmation message from the company. But what else could I do? And let''s not forget that he just kept making stupid excuses at the start, then chose to shirk all responsibility afterwards, while referring to me as a 'tribal'.

And that's the first thing I want to examine: responsibility. So many things are mired in bureaucracy here, that it's so easy to push the responsibility to someone else. From his perspective of the shopkeeper, he'd done his job - it was now the phone company's problem. From my perspective, it's like I've paid a waiter to take my order to the cook, who is supposed to deliver the food to a window where I can collect it myself, but fails to deliver the order. The waiter says he's done his job, but I'm still waiting hungrily by the window. The only way I can get my food, is to go straight into kitchen. So what's the point of having the waiter in the first place?

And it's so easy to shirk responsibility, the more layers of bureaucracy you have, and the more middlemen you have. It's one reason why so much public funding can get siphoned off here to personal accounts. It's one reason why security forces here are so ineffectual. To take a slightly different example, I told my brother that I found it ridiculous that at Kathmandu Airport, they would do a baggage scan at the entrance, then before the departure gate, and finally on the runway just before you board the plane (for Jet Airways flights at least). He pointed out that that was a terrible security set-up, because the guards at the start would feel like they could slack off, since they think the guards after them will catch whatever they miss. But then the guards at the end would also feel like they could slack off since they think that the guards before them would have caught anything worth catching.

But moving on from the issue of responsibility (or lack thereof) there's the use of the word 'tribal' here. Some might argue that terms like 'tribal' and 'backward caste' are simply appellations for different groups of people, but this context, it was absolutely derogatory.

Most people assume I'm from this area, but I can see the change in the way I'm treated once they realise I'm actually a foreigner. Suddenly, I'm judged on a whole different set of criteria, whether justifiably or not.

The other day, this article by Walter Fernandes, former director of the North Eastern Social Research Centre in Guwahati, appeared in the Seven Sisters Post: The Idea of India. One quote that stuck out was:

"A major cause of division is the feeling in much of India that the Northeast is different from the “mainstream” and should merge with the “mainland” on the terms of the “mainstream”."

There's a sense of cultural superiority here, with the 'tribals' still needing to be civilised by the 'mainstream', which is an Aryan-Dravidian culture that I would say is primarily Hindu.

The irony here is that back home, a lot of 'mainstream' Hindu culture is seen as antiquated, like women needing to be accompanied by a male companion when they travel, or at best, 'quaint' or 'charming', when looking at the constant stream of religious festivals. In comparison, a lot more of my 'tribal' friends are much more well-versed (for better or worse) in Western culture.

In the end, I was furious at the shopkeer. But at least at the end of the day I can assert my foreigner status when I'm here. Most of my 'tribal' friends in other parts of India have to deal with this sort of racism for as long as they have to live there.

'X cum Y' construction

Many English speakers would be familiar with the construction 'X cum Y' (where X and Y are nouns) to designate something or someone with two different attributes that are combined , e.g. model-cum-actor or restaurant-cum-dining room. The word cum here comes from the Latin preposition meaning 'with' or 'together with'. In writing, the words are often joined by a hyphen.

In spoken English, it's not something I hear that often (at least outside South Asia), even if people know the construction. Few people I know would talk about an actor-cum-model, and would probably say something like actor slash model slash waiter (effectively spelling out the punctuation marks used to divide up the different categories) or just actor model waiter. It's also no surprise that when I was doing the crossword in one of the local papers here the other day, I was puzzled by the clue: sofa-___-bed (3). You guessed it, the answer was 'cum', but most people I know would just call it a 'sofa-bed'.

In South Asia, the 'X cum Y' construction is used much more ubiquitously than back home, and usually without the hyphens in writing. It's almost as if people here really want to emphasise that something has multiple functions - maybe it suggests you get more value for your money? Or perhaps it makes an event sound more impressive?

Here we have the sign at the Bamboo Pavilion (sic)at Kisama in  Nagaland, where the Hornbill Festival is held. There was an exhibition cum sale last year, and I imagine there'll be another one this year.



The other weekend in Guwahati there was an awareness-cum-sensitization programme (here with the hyphens).

At the university, we also have a library cum seminar room.

Update: two more examples from around Guwahati

This is fine and good, but most English speakers are probably giggling just a little bit at the above examples, because unfortunately, cum is homophonous with a noun that means 'semen' and verb meaning 'to ejaculate'! This often leads to some unfortunate but highly amusing examples (which is probably why most English speakers outside of South Asia avoid using the construction altogether!)

For instance, a month ago I saw this sign for a mega loan cum exchange mela (a mela is a kind of fair here), with only the words mega loan in bold.

The other day my friend L. mentioned that she was walking through Diphu, she saw a sign for fast food cum restaurant. This is probably based on the use of fast food as the short form of 'fast food eatery / outlet'. (Update: I've seen a few of them around Guwahati as well.)

And just the other day I was rather slightly when I got a text message from a student saying she couldn't come to class because she had to attend a freshers' cum picnic! Amazingly (especially for a text message here), she used an apostrophe, probably to point out that  freshers' was simply short for 'freshers' day', i.e. an orientation day for freshmen / first years.

It's a rather popular construction in Indian English, that really doesn't seem to be going out of fashion anything time soon. So in the meantime, I'm just going to enjoy the humour-cum-amusement I get out of seeing these signs everywhere,

The Mighty Brahmaputra

While many parts of Northern Britain have also been hit by severe weather and flooding, the headlines of all the local papers here in Assam have been about one thing the past week: the massive flooding happening all over the Brahmaputra valley which has displaced thousands and killed more than a dozen people.

Floods sweep more areas (Seven Sisters Post, 24/09/2012)

Flood scene worsens in State, 18 dead  (The Assam Tribune, 25/09/2012)

Note that severe flooding in July already displaced more than a million people and killed more than 100 people (as mentioned in this BBC article about the current flooding situation ). Most of Majuli Island, the world's largest 'river island' (which used to have an area almost twice that of Singapore) is underwater as well.

Up till the past few days, the situation was mostly in Upper Assam, but now the flood waters have started to enter parts of Guwahati:

Flood situation turns critical in central, lower Assam (The Hindu, 25/09/2012)

Brahmaputra crosses danger mark, situation in Guwahati grim (The Sentinel, 25/09/2012)

I'm thankful that the part of town I'm staying at isn't at immediate risk of flooding, although I will have trouble commuting to the university if water levels don't recede soon. The part of town I took these photos just a month ago is also underwater, with houses in nearby Pandu inundated and people not wanting to leave their homes for fear that thieves will enter in their absence.





Not surprisingly here, one of the first things that came to mind for many local people is that China is somehow responsible, what with the construction of the Zangmu Dam further upstream. The papers immediately addressed this with articles like this one:
Water from China not to blame (The Assam Tribune, 23/09/2012)

Of course, the conspiracy theorists will still believe what they want to believe.

What we do know is that in spite of everything, the Chief Minister of Assam still decided it was important to leave the state to go to Japan to "study Goods and Services Tax (GST) and related matters."

Patisserie Operaa, Guwahati

About three weeks into my current stay in Guwahati, I discovered an absolute gem on GS Road, just two bus stops away from where I'm staying in Paltan Bazar. It's a little patisserie in Lachit Nagar (opposite the KFC) called "Patisserie Operaa". It's named for the famous 'opera cake'. I can only assume the double 'a' in Opera is to prevent any confusion as the pronunciation of the last vowel (since a single 'a' is often used in transliterations of Assamese for the vowel /ɔ/, similar to the vowel in English 'hot', not /a/.)



I'd seen the patisserie each time I'd gone down GS Road, and I was immediately attracted by the interior decor. It's one of the few places here I'd actually feel comfortable sitting around in for hours.




Of course, I've been to places here with nice interiors, but simply awful food (which I tend to put up with anyway just so I have somewhere to sit and read or do work). But the pastry chef at Patisserie Operaa trained at Le Cordon Bleu Institute in London, and it really shows in the cakes and pastries. I'm still blown away each time I go and try their cake - part of me can't believe that I'm in Guwahati!

So far, I've avoided the cakes with white cream on them, only because they remind me of the ubiquitous cakes with 'cream' toppings you find in bakeries all over this part of the world. But judging from the other cakes that I've tried, there's no reason to be worried.

Here's the eponymous Opera cake. The sponge had been soaked in coffee, and was moist without becoming soggy.



The fudge in the chocolate cake was rich and smooth, and not too sweet.



And the tiramisu had the right balance of coffee and cream. My friend L. from Germany agreed it was very good, but reckoned it could've had a bit more sponge in it.



I don't have any good photos of the rum balls, but they are simply amazing! Chocolate-y, rich, smooth. My friend L. bought about 9 to take with her to give to friends.

Also, the place does wonderful pastries (and quiche!) as well. I've only tried a few of them with my friend L., who left on the train the other day. When she was in town, we were at Patisserie Opera every day...



I'm really glad I waited 3 weeks before entering the patisserie, because I'd have put on a lot more weight during my first month in Guwahati! This is where I'm going to when I feel homesick (and not KFC across the street). Ironically, I don't think I'll be able to get cake as good as this when I move to Canberra next year.

Patisserie Operaa is located on GS Road, opposite the KFC in Lachit Nagar. The patisserie is open 7 days a week from 10.30am to 10.30pm.

A short trip to Varanasi

Apologies if posting hasn't been very frequent. I just spent the week in the Varanasi attending the 18th Himalayan Languages Symposium which was hosted by Banaras Hindu University.



 And here are some obligatory shots of the Ganges.

And more photos from the obligatory boat ride on the Ganges.




Popping over to Varanasi from Assam presented a mild cultural shock to me. While in Assam, I can usually go about my day-to-day activities generally unnoticed (people do look at me, but they just assume I'm from somewhere in NE India like Nagaland), the instant I arrived in Varanasi, I was instantly given the 'foreigner treatment'. Everywhere I went, people would say, "Hello!" or  "How are you?" or "Where are you from?" as I walked past them, and I'd get touts and beggars coming up to me.

The other thing I had to get used to, was that when I'm in Assam and show any trouble understanding Assamese, almost everyone immediately swaps to Hindi, which other people from India are more likely to understand, but which I have even more difficulty understanding because I've had more exposure to Assamese. It's similar to how Sumi speakers often switch to Nagamese when I look like I'm having trouble, even though I understand more Sumi than Nagamese. Of course, in Varanasi, people usually just spoke to me in English from the outset (if they could), since they assumed that as a foreigner I would know English.

Now,  if I was actually from NE India, this sort of treatment would be supremely annoying and probably insulting, being treated -and charged prices- like a foreigner in my own country. It's no wonder everyone here calls the rest of India 'the mainland'.

Lightning bandh

While Assam is considering banning bandhs for the rest of the month, following violence during Tuesday's bandh (including some incidents here in Guwahati), Nagaland hasn't quite reached that stage yet. I arrived on Saturday in Dimapur to what was called a 'lightning bandh', a term I had never heard before. Note that is also spelled 'lightening bandh', although this is certainly a common misspelling of 'lightning', as there is nothing about this sort of bandh that 'lightens' / is 'lightening'.

The term was used in relation a bandh that was called on Saturday in Dimapur. You can see it reported here in the Nagaland Post: Aug 31 incident sparks inter-tribal clash in Dimapur and also in the Eastern Mirror: Clashes erupt in Dimapur. From what I gather, the term refers to a bandh that's called very suddenly and often violently, since business owners aren't given enough notice, bandh supporters go to them and forcefully make them shut their doors.

As you can read in the articles, on Friday 31 Aug, a Sumi man, Kivika Assümi, was arrested by a Kohima Village Youth Organisation 'Quick Response Team' (which as far as I can tell acted as a kind of local vigilante group). Kivika was accused of bike theft, and died while in this group's custody. Whether he was guilty or not of the crimes he was accused for, his death was clearly not acceptable. A Sumi student organisation in Dimapur called for a bandh to protest his death. This eventually led to some terrible acts of violence between groups of Sumi and Angamis, and eventually the complete shut down of a section of NH 29, the highway that runs from Dimapur to Kohima.

The part of town where I was staying (close to Supermarket) wasn't really affected, and when I came out of the train station in Dimapur, I also hadn't really noticed anything unusual, apart from the lack of pre-paid taxis going to Kohima. Unfortunately, I had a few Sumi friends trying to come into Dimapur that afternoon, and they were forced to spend the night at a church in a village off the main highway. Thankfully, they did make it into Dimapur safely on Sunday.

It doesn't take much to realise that the term 'lightning' is quite appropriate for this sort of situation. A flash of lightning is enough to set off a wild fire, if there's been enough fuel around. And sadly, there is a lot of 'fuel' building up all over this part of the world, whether it's tension between rival tribes or between migrants and long-established communities.