Me Not Gujarati, Me Goan!

Were I to die in my sleep tonight, it wouldn't really bother me much -- for I can safely say that I've now done it all. The latest feather in my cap was being mistaken for a gujju! (For those of you not familiar with the term “gujju”, look up “fat, oily, dishonest businessman” in the dictionary. Incidentally, the fact that they hail from Gujarat is merely coincidental. )

This afternoon I was standing in college talking to two friends, when two guys approached us. “Aap Gujarat ke log hain nah?”, they asked us. (“You are from Gujarat, aren't you?”)

“No.” We were too surprised to say much more.

“Lekhin aap abhi Gujarati mein baat kar rahe the?”, they refused to let it go so easily. (“But you were just speaking in Gujarati?”)

“No!” We had been speaking in English -- not quite the Queen’s perhaps, but certainly not bad enough for it to be mistaken for a whole other language!

They then said that they wanted to know what we thought about the college since they were thinking of getting their ward admitted here. (Last time I checked two men couldn’t come together and bear offspring, so I assume one of them was an uncle or something!)

Never one to let pass an opportunity to relieve the college of at least one lucrative, fees-bearing student, I told them that the college was not worth getting admission into and that I would advise them to try elsewhere. “This place is way too strict,” I say. They thought I was kidding -- people tend to think that too often these days.

Then they left, shaking their heads. Off to seek a “true Gujarati opinion”, no doubt.

Why were they so keen on asking a “Gujarati”? And how deaf do you have to be for English to sound like Gujarati? Wonders will never cease.