When Grammar Met Clarity
Writing has always fascinated me. It’s such an interesting aspect of communication; you can pretty much convey anything you want, in any way you want. Even a grammatically incorrect sentence can carry its full meaning. Yet, somewhere along the way, we began mistaking good communication for intelligence. “Oh, he writes and speaks so well. He must be smart.” Good communication can create a false sense of technical pride. I grew up believing that grammatical precision was the measure of knowledge. But in hindsight, that wasn’t entirely me; it was my teachers. They were absolutely particular that every sentence not only conveyed meaning, but also respected the sanctity of grammar. A misplaced article or preposition could invite the harshest of corrections. Yesterday, my wife and I were talking about writing and as all conversations these days eventually do, it veered toward our kids’ writing. We were laughing over Sahana’s recent schoolwork: a delightful mix of humor, dialogue, and im...
Last evening was pretty eventful. As the thermometer was struggling to get the mercury levels rising, the dipping temperature provided us the ideal platform to test our Bajji making skills. The Bajji mavu, potatoes, chillies (rather Jalapeno) and onions were laid on a platter, with one of us cutting the potatoes and onions, and the other making the dough. It is always exciting to try something new and we weren't sure how good the final product would be. Of course, we were smacking our lips by just imagining how good it would be. As the oil in the tava warmed up to a nicety, the potato was dipped into the semi-solidified bajji mavu, propped up beautifully and finally immersed into the frying pan. KccchhhhK! Wow! What a noise! After a long time, it was good to hear the splattering potato in the oil. It was music to our ears. As the bajji emerged out of the frying pan, all of us were eyeing it with a sense of contentment and pride. Obviously! Who gets to make bajjis everyday. The bajji quickly was torn into four pieces and each of us were quick to gulp the miniscule piece in glee. And then, the packet of vadaam (fryums) also emerged from the suitcase. C'mon, if we can make bajjis, why can'y we fry up the vadaam. Yeps! It did sound nice! And so after about 45 minutes of painstaking effort, we had a big vessel containing the delicious jevarisi vadaam and bajjis.
I guess Blonda would have been a better name.
ReplyDeleteWow.. bajji-sojji ellama? Yaaravadhu unna maapizhai parka vandhangala enna?? Cool, you guys seemt o be having fun
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