Shakespear's sonnet in "modern" English

If we had it our way, one of the most famous of William Shakespear's sonnet would read somewhat like this -

Whn my luv swears dat she s made of truth
I do blieve her, tho I knw she lies,
Dat she mite think me sme untutored uth,
Unlearned in da world's false subtleties.
Dus vainly thinkin dat she thinks me young.
Altho she knws my days r past da bst,
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:
On both side thus s simple truth suppressed:
But whr4 sez she nt she s unjust?
And whr4 say nt I that I am old?
Oh! luv's bst habit s in seeming trust,
N age in luv luvs nt 2 hav yrs told:
Dare4 I lie wid her n she wid me,
N in our faults by lies we flattered b.

In our endeavor for speedy communication, one of the channels man explored was quicker methods of writing – he invented shorthand and then came what we now call the “txt lingo” or “sms lingo”. This language was solely introduced (and is continually being developed) as a means for short, written communication. As with everything, we yearn to widen the scope of utility; while our attempt at this has only proved quite unfortunate in this case; because on our way forward, we lost the importance of it being meant for short and written communication.

I have often come across social updates and emails that are as long as letters and are written in this awfully irritating language which when read aloud sound like words emanating from someone suffering from serious speech impediment. Yes, these new so-called languages reduce the writer’s effort as it brings down the character count. But somewhere at the reader’s end, it counters this advantage. His normal flow of reading is disrupted by the incessant hold-ups in identifying what “cld” really means - “could” or “cold”? And whether the closing line “LOL” really meant “lot’s of love” or “laughing out loud”? You could argue that one can figure out the meaning with the context in place; but hey! Can you really expect someone to build a context when he’s still trying to tie some meaningless words together?

What is worse is that we have now started talking in this language. We combined “tell me” to “temme” not just in written form but also in spoken English; while of course “let me check” became “lemme chk” when written and “lemme check” when spoken. God knows if we had the supreme power to pronounce words without vowels, we would do so! What’s unnerving however is when we use “ma” for “my”, “da” for “the” and “fa” for “for” as we speak. Imagine this… “I am going for the movie with my friends” actually sounds like “m goin fa da movie wid ma frenz”. I came across a smart butt who “by mistake” wrote on a chat window “I’ll send that 2 u” and then immediately followed it with a correction “dat*”. I say, that may have sounded “kewl” but supremely lame as well.

While we understand the need for quicker messaging, let’s just stick to messages and not speeches where we use this language. Leave some respect for what is really called modern English as against the old Shakespearean English.

Just another day?

Stuck in traffic and late for an appointment, waiting at the airport endlessly for your flight, calls that upset your schedule...well, most of us detest such disruptions in schedule and everything else that affects a change in your plans. I do too. The perfect day would be when nothing went wrong or when everything happened the way you planned it; be it a weekend getaway, day at work or simply getting the daily chores done. At the end of such a day you are left feeling satisfied. “Lovely life” - you would say... or would you?

Sunday mornings always begin with a lazy and elaborate breakfast. Monday morning blues begin to set in from Sunday night. You do not even care to notice the Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays that pass by... they are all the same. And then, thank-god-it’s-Friday!!; Because Saturday nights are definitely wild and fun. And then ... there is this one day, like today, when you find the time to ponder and look at your life from high above, as an outsider. We all like to settle down and lead a good life but that challenge of walking a tight rope allures you. You want to break the monotony, however peaceful it may be. Satisfied you are, but there is no excitement. There are memories, but not a memorable event that you want to relive.

If you were told to think of the most memorable day of your life, I would bet it wasn’t a regular one. Yes, you could come up with milestone events like your graduation day or your wedding day. Excepting them, the one that would be etched in your memory would be a gross aberration from routine. So vivid it would be that you could probably recount every detail with unimaginable precision. When you see your life go by in the flash of a moment, you see these days.

Deviations from routine are an opportunity for us to convert the mundane stuff into a memory. one day, smile at that face you see almost every day at the crossing, take time to share a joke from your days as a scout with a bunch of kids, buy a drink for that solemn-looking solitary face at the bar; for your presence in their lives, albeit brief, is a novelty. Take off for the weekend without a destination or agenda in mind; you may end up having the most relaxed trip. Try not to follow a recipe; you may end up with a unique blend. Don’t just let these deviations happen; welcome them ... embrace them, for they add a touch of colour and vigour to our otherwise gray lives.

The Verdict

The streets of Mumbai rang with the sound of crackers. An expression only resorted to on occasions of happiness and sometimes success like weddings and festivals. But in stark contrast, the occasion yesterday was a man being sentenced to death.

“Yeh hamara tareeka hai” (This is our way); Judge M.L. Tahaliyani was quoted in the Times of India dated May 7. As expected, the media is galore with speculations on the verdict; is it appropriate? Capital punishment? Human rights? To all this there is one response from the judge that could put all these arguments to rest - “The common man will lose faith in courts if they give inadequate punishment.”

Truly, capital punishment for Ajmal Kasab does not mean the end of terror. Neither does it mean that justice has been done; for the masterminds and the accomplices are still unknown and at large. The danger is no less. Some minds are crafted to sacrifice their life for certain personal causes. Does the verdict deter them? No, the verdict also does not guarantee that no such attack shall occur again. In short, the event will be celebrated and forgotten soon, only to be unearthed by the media when another terror attack happens.

But despite the status quo, we find relief in this end. Personally, I am not in strong favour of or vehemently against capital punishment. But in cases like this one, where there is no guilt or regret and the audacity to defend oneself of such cold-blooded murder and conspiracy, I feel no remorse in celebrating the verdict. Not even on humanitarian grounds, for what happened then was nothing but demonic.

Call it the dark side of me, but to me the verdict and that too so quickly, has come across as a reinstating faith in the Indian judicial system. Thank you Judge Tahiliyani, your verdict, as difficult as it may have been, has brought cheer to many.

The Biker

They were the sole reason for my being less respectful towards the bike-riders. Before you take offence, I am only talking about those bike-riders who cut lanes and zoom past traffic lights without paying much heed to their colour. They generally ride alone, making their way through the busy streets, twisting and turning their bikes through the narrowest of gaps. Most of us with a sane eye can tell when the traffic was bad or worse and when it was a delight to drive. For them, it’s a “freeway” all the time; literally.

I saw him frequently. I never saw his face; but his brown jacket, black shoes and helmet (with a peculiar image of an orange cross), was enough to indicate that he was indeed the same man. Like an outlaw, he cruised his way ahead and vanished out of sight before the curses mouthed by his fellow commuters reach his ears. He zoomed past the traffic lights as if he never noticed them. I remarked in half jest and half disdain, “he must have told his folks he’ll be away for a long time or that he may not return at all”. Little did I know that someday I would find some truth in these words.

It was not just another day with peak hour traffic. It was special; a VVIP was in town and a part of the VVIP treatment he received was to cordon off “harmful” people like us. We patiently waited for him and his entourage to pass. Suddenly, all hell broke loose. We heard a gunshot and sirens! Someone tried to take a shot at the VVIP (must be a good soul, the bad ones never make it to the hit-list). I saw cops rush into this tall building beyond the junction. With this chaos we weren’t moving anywhere closer to our destinations any time soon.

It had been a long day. The fatigue was taking its toll on me as I switched to the news channel to see how the media portrayed this incident. The VVIP was safe and recovering. The cops got lucky this time to have the sniper in their custody. But they still had to make him sing to their tune. The news correspondent jostled to get a good view of the cop making a statement to the media. In the next frame, the cop was saying how they chased and caught hold of the sniper. It was a tough chase. But the sniper got obstructed by this bike which made things a tad easier for the cops. When the news correspondent asked him about the biker, he said they did not know much because they couldn’t catch the vehicle number. Just that he wore a brown jacket and a black helmet with some sort of an orange cross...

When I woke up next morning, I could not figure out whether I heard his mention for real or in half sleep. I scavenged through the morning newspaper to ascertain it. It was for real. It seemed to me like he was some sort of a masked hero who wished to do good. And definitely deserved more respect despite being the outlaw that he was. I still see him oftentimes... and the rude remark of mine, I cannot get myself to utter it anymore.