The internet was down this evening at the hotel, to my frustration. The English-speaking managers were also mysteriously missing, which left only the Indian-speaking employees (who speak a few words of English). I repeatedly asked them to come fix it, to which they kept saying "Yes madam, just check." Being in a persistent mood, I badgered them again, to which one told me, when cornered in an elevator, "Go up, madam, and open all your windows and doors." Must have been taking a piss out of me, as the British say. Finally, Misha came from work and said all you have to do is flip the light switch in the hallway. Linguistic and technological confusion everywhere.
Speaking of linguistics, there are so many Anglo-Indian words and expressions that sound quaint to my ears: "medicine for SOS," "car park," "stodgy," "geyser" (boiler). Misha's favorite from newspapers is "bamboozled." Also, adapted from movies: "A Passage to India" seems to be a popular title for names of companies, the dark subject matter notwithstanding, and, my recent favorite: a new fancy taxi service by the name of "Salaam Mumbai," for happy thoughts of orphaned and abused street kids, prostitutes and pimps.
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