Not what I ordered

‘Prepared by an authentic Italian cock’ is the proud statement printed on each page of the menu. And at over 200 rupees a pizza, I would expect nothing less.

I’m in what The Lonely Planet calls ‘The best Italian restaurant in Goa’ and I am getting ready to order, hoping to God and Shiva this is another Indian/English mistranslation. If not, I’m skipping dessert. No matter how good the ice cream is.

Sometimes India’s spelling is a joke. The beach town I’m in is Palolem on the signpost, Pollem on the bus stand and Pallollem on the postcards. I’ve forgotten the number of times I’ve been asked to ‘Exist by front door’, ‘Handle with clare’ or ‘Not wank on the grass’. It’s like we’re all speaking in a different language in this country.

To be honest it’s a mess, and as funny as it can be, until its sorted out India will never be the global player she is so hungry to become. Look at history’s other emerging nations, it’s an anthropological fact.

The communication problem stems from having 418 languages, with only 22 of them recognised by the official Indian constitution. Then, depending on who you ask, there are anything up to a further 2,000 regional dialects. Which although unofficially chartered, are the day to day native tongue spoken by communities across the country.

Give the dissemination of this variety to greedy state based politicians, who never miss the chance to kick about another political football, and you find yourself standing on the sidelines watching a game that simply cannot be won.

The Shiv Sena (excuse me whilst I dry wretch into a bucket) are the Maharashtrian masters at this, but other regions can be just as stubborn when it comes to interstate communication. And until somebody somewhere is prepared to compromise on this issue, the wheel will spin around and around keeping India confused and distracted.

The two main languages in India are Hindi and English, with Hindi cited as the post independence national tongue. But try talking Hindi in Tamil Nadu and see how far it gets you, you’ll be sitting on the wrong bus before you can say Nandri.

English still features heavily in the big cities and tourism trails, but when your waiter is a tired 16 year old from Bangladesh, pointing and nodding is often your best bet. I bluff my way through it, relying on gesticulation and a big smile, but I’ve sat in more than one restaurant watching people lose it over ‘POTOATO WEDGES!!!!’

The obvious truth is that India needs to decide upon and enforce a priority language, taught to all children as standard. Underpin this with extended educational programmes, reaching out to the villages as well as the cities, and over time the changes will show. I’m not saying forget about the regional dialects, cultural diversity is an important part of India’s heritage, just accept the fact that arguments over shop signs should take a second row seat to creating a unified population.

Also the caste system needs to be eradicated, properly eradicated, and each child needs to feel that they are a respected Indian National. Pride and ambition should be a birthright to all, not just a few.

Finally, the self-motivated infighting political ‘bag men’ need to forever fuck off and leave India to become all that she can be, one of the most inspirational nations on the planet. Sorry for cursing but its true.

The financial turncoats in positions of power have been squeezing their own country’s throat for over 60 years now, and it’s about time they stepped down and let her breathe again. Congress’ corruption is a major thorn in India’s side, and their inefficiency at rectifying basic domestic problems is an insult to the party’s founder. Sort it Dr Singh, sort it now.

So as I debate the taste of anchovy on my ‘slice of Italy in India’, I watch a young Brit trying to explain the importance of matching wine glasses to her waiter. He’s nodding politely but I can see his brain thinking in Konkani ‘…I don’t understand what she wants, they’ve already got clean glasses?’

She’s losing patience and starts speaking faster and faster, the waiter nodding ferociously to keep up. It’s all seems futile, but I know these two will stick it out and fight their way through the language barrier. She wants what she wants, and he wants to get paid for it.

And although I’m not surrounded by India’s most representational demographic, wealthy INR’s on holiday and ex-pats in exile, I guess its reassuring that at least money talks in this country. Eventually.