Given the current ‘heat’ generated by a Spanish singer, let me reproduce something I wrote about the Rolling Stones tour of 2003. There are region-specific words, phrases...and of course the spellings follow the pronunciation!
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“Yeh Rolling Stones kya hai?” asked Qadri saab.
“Tauba!” exclaimed his begum, “All your madrassa training is going waste waise hi…don’t you know it means ludakte patthar? Palestine mein children are throwing to protect themselves. You have no idea about worldly affairs…”
Harminder Kaur snapped, “Ai lo ji, we are discussing our building’s plaster and you are going on about world-shorld. But lat me tell you my puttar vaint for show at Brabbun Stadium and this Rolling Stone is not some anaap-shnaap thing. They are big band. I think so that Kran Jowar maast ask them to give tuning in his naxt film. I rad that they are urban boys, not gaon ka laundas like Bittles.”
“Hai rabba, meri sohni,” said Kushal Singh. “Your knowing pooree duniya da band-baaja. Parande di kasam, tusee vadee mast cheez ho. But I am also coming from behind you, so I know one more andar di baat. That Mick Jaggery is called sexy rubber lips.”
Dakshaben, looking aghast, nudged in, “Ok, ok, Sardarji. Shu motee vaat chhe? If he goat rubber lip then our Sharukhbhai now has titan neck, samajh ma aavyo?”
“Titanium,” declared Sohrab Mistry. “Why dismiss the West? Look at aapro Zubin, he does us proud.”
“What you are saying? He only takes that laakdi and moves it up and down. Our Narendrabhai did it and whole Gujarat was like daandiya-raas,” said Karsanbhai.
“Enough!” Sohrab was agitated.
“Mare-re, evan ne knowledge nathi, tu javaa de,” pacified his wife, Dinu. “Do you know the Rolling Stones listen to Bach and were on the Licks tour?”
“Hailaa! Iph they needed stray barking dogs they should have only just fingered me, like this, chutkee, and I wood contact my Bhau in mooncipalitee to arrange all licking. I wood satisfy them, aai shapath.” O.J.Tambe looked pleased.
But his better half, Shantatai, told him clearly, “Whyphor you want to put your foot in mooncipaltee truck?”
Anando Chattopahdyaya just shook his head. “Naathing like Robindro shongeet to give phool shatishfacsun.”
“Ooree baba, and what I am doing all this time for you, hain? Your not pheeling good phrom my machher jhol? From shondesh? I am bringing phrom all gullies in Kolkata all phor you. And in phool public adda you saying your happinesh ish phrom old gramaphone?” The building’s favourite boudi was very upset.
The quiet Mervin D’cruz mumbled, “And to think we used to jam to the Stones, those were the days.”
“Haan, kya zamaana tha, Ghalib, Mir…” trailed off Qadrisaab, till he realised he had goofed. Watching his sad face, the Begum said, “Fik’r mat karo. These big akhbaar log have told the band people about the state of the persecuted minorities in our country. Sab theek ho jaayega ab.”
Faaltu, the corner shop boy, who was listening, finally asked the group, “Thandaa mangta kya?” They all nodded happily. “Nimbu-paani chalega? Apun ab yeh firangi maal nahin rakhta. Saala log ko bumb bhi seedha maarne aata nahin, tau mooh faad ke gaane se kya faayda?”