Talking Hindi, eating dal-chaawal(pluses and rice)

Saturday evening came upon you like a breath of fresh air. Through with the boxing report after Jitender had punched holes in his Uzbek rival's confidence bag, it was time to take a small break. The invite on the table looked too tempting.There had been no time to look at these pretty cards till now. Now you did, and decided to go to the Indian ambassador's dinner at the Marriot the prospect of getting Indian 'khaana' drew you like a magnet.Outside, in the world beyond the Olympic Games, you found two things you were desperately looking for these past two weeks a taxi driver who could say more than Hello and Thank You and yes, the good old dal-chaawal.It was quite a fight to reach the hotel though and Zhu Lin should get the reward for being the most patient, helpful cabbie this side of the Brahmaputra. The address on the card was in English and you were in trouble. You got that translated by a volunteer but Lin was still clueless.A call to the press attache helped. "Hang on Alok, you'll get a call in a minute." The call came and a man speaking in chaste Hindi said: "Vishnu bol raha hoon. Driver ko phone deejiye," Well that did the trick. Vishnu was surely an Indian interpreter. Lin's face suddenly lit up and he said," Aw, cool. Let's go." He had waited for 20 minutes amidst all this confusion. And he spoke English!So how do you speak such good English? "All taxi drivers of China were asked to learn it for the Games. We were given special classes tough language, got to study so much man. The older guys just refused to learn it. For me, it opens up a new world." It sure does and it certainly helps.As you entered the hotel and walked up the stairs, you suddenly felt at home. The aroma of Indian spices casually wafted through into your system.Inside the hall, a cozy little party was on the ambassador, the Indian athletes and officials and several journalists were celebrating Abhinav Bindra's success and wishing for more. Old Bollywood numbers from the fifties and sixties were playing on a huge TV screen — Shammi Kapoor was serenading Sharmila Tagore. Yes, it felt like home.The dress code was formal but for the media, shorts and rucksacks were par for the course. You decided to mingle around and ran into a Chinese who said "Namaste"! Well, in this city of 1,000 language problems, this came as a shock. "Namasteji, aap?" "Jiang naam hai mera. University mein yahaan Hindi padhata hoon.""Good, so you call yourself Vishnu?" You got it wrong mate. "Vishnu mera shishya hai," he said and switched to English: "There are several others like Aakash, Vishal I have given them Indian names. Vishnu yahaan hai." Mindboggling."Aapko asuvidha to nahin hui?" asked Vishnu. You had not heard such chaste Hindi in a long, long time. Not even back home in Delhi. It was too much for the day. It was time to grab a plate, stuff yourself silly with dal-chaawal and roti and you were off to the Bird's Nest. Bolt was waiting to strike.

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