I was on invitation for a business meeting with our German business associate coinciding with their participation in a trade exhibition in Hamburg.
Having dealt with them over the years but I never had the opportunity of meeting most of them.My hostess was their effervescent Export Manager, a smart lady in her early to mid forties, a Peruvian by birth,French by her education and German by her domicile. As I was to learn, she was a live wire who amazed me with the ease, speed and dexterity in switching from one language to another. Spanish ,French,Italian,English and German , she had it all in her bag, attending to business associates like me and visiting prospects at the stand in their respective language of comfort.
After close of play, four of us waved a taxi just outside the trade fair gate to get us back to our hotel. My co-inhabitant colleagues were a German who knew little English, A Spaniard who struggled with both his German & English, myself with my plain vanilla English and our multi linguist lady companion.Once seated and belted, our destination of this journey was conveyed by her, by the sound of it in chaste German, to the taxi driver.
A few minutes in to the ride and the conversation dribbled towards football and the disappointment over Germany not making it to the finals. The Europeans discussed their bit over who deserved to win and who did not, without the strings of national loyalities.Trying to get me in the conversation, she asked me " Why does'nt India play Football?". I replied to the effect that we were still living in the legacy the British left behind i.e. Cricket, how I wish they did not leave us behind with bureaucracy. To which she countered by claiming that the British were a Footballing nation and had some superb players in their midst who unfortunately could not make a homogeneous effort to bring home the WC2006.
In the subsequent pause of our conversations taking place, our taxi driver said:
" Bhai Sahab, Aap Hindustani hain.Khushi hua mil ke. Hum Afghani hain".I greeted him with a Salam alaikum and complemented him on his knowledge of Hindustani.
Whilst this exhange transpired, our multi linguist seem flummoxed by this traffic of Hindustani between the cabbie and me, as I turned back to see the expression on her face. She braced herself quickly, not wanting to be left out of the conversation, asking of him in equivalent German on which language did the cabbie converse with me.
Amjad, our cabbie, apparently learnt his Hindustani, as he preferred to call it, by feasting on Bollywood movies a seemingly wholesome and funfilled entertainment when he used to reside in Afghanistan. Better living had made him and many of his ilk to seek asylum in Germany and driving a cab was the easiest and often the first rung on any immigrant's ladder of ascension in a foreign country. The next few minutes were Amjad time, him impresing me with his knowledge of Bollywood movies, songs, actors and checking with me on the latest happenings in Bollywood. He also expresed his yet unfulfilled desire of visting India and Bombay in particular and meet his favourite actors in flesh and blood.
Our ride to the hotel came to an end much like an interval in a movie, for the next Indian visitor in Amjad's cabie would update him on his thirst for Bollywood knowledge. Khuda Hafiz , my friend I bid Amjad.
Once out of the taxi and standing in the hotel lobby, my hostess confesed that she too had her brush with Hindee movies dubbed in Spanish in her native Peru, which she watched in the local theatre on Sunday afternoons right after Sunday Mass.Her mother being a Hindee movie afficinado, loving the singing around the trees routine, poor girl meets rich boy or vice versa, the doctored fights and happy reunions.
Viva Bollywood !
ps: Have I left he German out of my essay. Not really.His recently acquired knowledge and interest about India was not through Bollywood but through the much debated Arcelor takeover by Mittal.
Mera Bharat Mahan !
Having dealt with them over the years but I never had the opportunity of meeting most of them.My hostess was their effervescent Export Manager, a smart lady in her early to mid forties, a Peruvian by birth,French by her education and German by her domicile. As I was to learn, she was a live wire who amazed me with the ease, speed and dexterity in switching from one language to another. Spanish ,French,Italian,English and German , she had it all in her bag, attending to business associates like me and visiting prospects at the stand in their respective language of comfort.
After close of play, four of us waved a taxi just outside the trade fair gate to get us back to our hotel. My co-inhabitant colleagues were a German who knew little English, A Spaniard who struggled with both his German & English, myself with my plain vanilla English and our multi linguist lady companion.Once seated and belted, our destination of this journey was conveyed by her, by the sound of it in chaste German, to the taxi driver.
A few minutes in to the ride and the conversation dribbled towards football and the disappointment over Germany not making it to the finals. The Europeans discussed their bit over who deserved to win and who did not, without the strings of national loyalities.Trying to get me in the conversation, she asked me " Why does'nt India play Football?". I replied to the effect that we were still living in the legacy the British left behind i.e. Cricket, how I wish they did not leave us behind with bureaucracy. To which she countered by claiming that the British were a Footballing nation and had some superb players in their midst who unfortunately could not make a homogeneous effort to bring home the WC2006.
In the subsequent pause of our conversations taking place, our taxi driver said:
" Bhai Sahab, Aap Hindustani hain.Khushi hua mil ke. Hum Afghani hain".I greeted him with a Salam alaikum and complemented him on his knowledge of Hindustani.
Whilst this exhange transpired, our multi linguist seem flummoxed by this traffic of Hindustani between the cabbie and me, as I turned back to see the expression on her face. She braced herself quickly, not wanting to be left out of the conversation, asking of him in equivalent German on which language did the cabbie converse with me.
Amjad, our cabbie, apparently learnt his Hindustani, as he preferred to call it, by feasting on Bollywood movies a seemingly wholesome and funfilled entertainment when he used to reside in Afghanistan. Better living had made him and many of his ilk to seek asylum in Germany and driving a cab was the easiest and often the first rung on any immigrant's ladder of ascension in a foreign country. The next few minutes were Amjad time, him impresing me with his knowledge of Bollywood movies, songs, actors and checking with me on the latest happenings in Bollywood. He also expresed his yet unfulfilled desire of visting India and Bombay in particular and meet his favourite actors in flesh and blood.
Our ride to the hotel came to an end much like an interval in a movie, for the next Indian visitor in Amjad's cabie would update him on his thirst for Bollywood knowledge. Khuda Hafiz , my friend I bid Amjad.
Once out of the taxi and standing in the hotel lobby, my hostess confesed that she too had her brush with Hindee movies dubbed in Spanish in her native Peru, which she watched in the local theatre on Sunday afternoons right after Sunday Mass.Her mother being a Hindee movie afficinado, loving the singing around the trees routine, poor girl meets rich boy or vice versa, the doctored fights and happy reunions.
Viva Bollywood !
ps: Have I left he German out of my essay. Not really.His recently acquired knowledge and interest about India was not through Bollywood but through the much debated Arcelor takeover by Mittal.
Mera Bharat Mahan !
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