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A quick tale 12

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She grew up speaking a language that had special words for pickled lime peels and clotted rice morsels. It was rich, lusty, pungent and full-bodied. Her teachers taught her to love it. It was the language of Gods, they told her. She secretly believed it was the language they made love in.


So when there came a time for her pack her bags and follow her husband to a new land, she wrapped her mother tongue in a tiny velvet pouch and took it with her. But there, where they spoke in a floating, mild tongue, her sumptuous syllables suffered. Over the years, her edges started to wear thin and her little velvet pouch waned. Some days, she even forgot words in her native tongue. But at nights, when her head slumped on the pillow, she wept tears of sorrow. And they were always in the language of Gods.

Comments

None said…
wow! i think this is the best you've ever written so far...

cheers!
ramya
perspective said…
wonderful write! beautifully written....
Your way of writing expresses the romance you experience in writing and food... :)
Harish said…
Brilliant!
Loved it :) You must have heard it enough by now, but what the heck.. You write really well!
Shyam said…
I dont have anything to say that hasnt already been said by the previous three... so I'll content myself with "VERY NICE"! :)
AF said…
Ammani,
Superb!!!. Exceptional Writing. You use the right words and expression to expresses how one feels. You make the person feel what he reads....only few writers can do so..
Keep writing!!
Take Care
AF
i love it Ammani
u have done well as always
mischief editor said…
we are convenient and more authoritative in expressing our feelings in 'other languages'..........and we are proud of it!

the mother tongue, just like mother, is not remembered/recognized too often... and most of the times taken for granted!
Almost everything in our life is prone and welcome to change. Mother tongue is the one thing that never does. It makes you feel that you belong and that feeling alone is worth fighting to retain your language.
Very nice post. Giving a face to one's mother tongue is about as good as it gets. Unless you outdo it yourself :)
Amrita said…
i would say it rather depends on the individual whether or not he/she wants a change inher life
Anjali said…
yes i miss speaking tamil
Anonymous said…
So nice and so true

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Bio-data

Married for 31 years, 2 months and 17 days
Six cups coffee a day, brewed everyday of marriage
Three meals a day,
At least two dishes cooked, each meal-time
One snack for every Sunday
Big basket of clothes ironed every Tuesday
Average 18 items of clothing washed per day
Three children
1 miscarriage
One mother-in-law suffered
900 sq metre of floor space mopped, once a day
One caesarean endured
3 chicken poxes, 2 measles, 2 fractures, 8 diarrhoeas, depression, conjunctivitis every summer, 1 tonsilitis and countless common colds and flues
1 job held for 29 years
6 hours slept every night
Sex tolerated every 2nd week
Religious rituals everyone of them, carried out
Not one of them, believed in
Lived 52 years and some
Died exhausted

Overheard, “At least she had the satisfaction of having lived for her family”


http://jikku.blogspot.com/2005/02/quick-tale-3.html#c111042815438237631

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Found this in yesterday's paper. Again, I wish I'd written it.

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Now and Then

"Now that I'm fifty-seven",
My mother used to say,
"Why should I waste a minute?
Why should I waste a day

Doing the things I ought to
Simply because I should?
Now that I'm fifty-seven
I'm done with that for good."

But now and then I'd catch her
Trapped in some thankless chore
Just as she might have been at
Fifty-three or fifty-four

And I would say to her
(And I have to bite my tongue)
That if you mean to learn a skill
It's well worth starting young

And so, to make sure I'm in time
For fifty, I've begun
To do exactly as I please
Now that I'm thirty-one.

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