Tamil for touristsA smattering of useful words and phrases

The following is an extract from the travel book A River of Life: Travels through Modern India.

Few foreign visitors spend long in Madras. It has few real sights and little colour compared to places within easy reach. Fort St. George isn't the sort of place which would normally feature highly on my list of must-sees - no Rajophile, me - and after a dash through its museum I find some shaded space on a concrete bench outside and peruse the March edition of Hello! Madras, that I had picked up at a news stall in the forecourt of my hotel. There isn't much to it: adverts for hotels, airlines, jewellers and beauty parlours, some titillating horoscope readings (Your social life will be provocative as well as rewarding as you meet new people. Romance will be intimate and fulfilling), as well as train and plane and bus timetables, which might prove useful later on, and three pages devoted to Tamil for Tourists.

I try to commit a few phrases to mind that might help me realize my horoscope. My choice is limited. Nee kettikaran (you are very smart) is the most flattering thing there. I try to cobble together a suitably seductive line from the vocabulary of words: Your eyes are like the night, mysterious and dark. But it doesn't have the word for "eyes". Or "like". Or "mysterious" or "dark". It has iravu neram (night), which might help to break the ice, and I could always try thoongu (sleep) with a suggestive wink. Otherwise, the only hope I might have of intimacy and fulfilment in my romance would be through a businesslike approach: Penn vendum (I need a woman); vilai enna (how much?); seri (all right).

A chance encounter with a Tamil beauty on the bus to Mamallapuram almost (but not quite) gives me the chance to try the phrases out. It isn't till I hit Mamallapuram proper that a real opportunity arises.

The town's status as a major centre for carving is made apparent as I make my way away from the plateau of rock, that harbours the mandapams and bas-reliefs, and along the aptly-named Carver's Row. In dusky lean-tos at the roadside many artisans are at work, scores of them, filling the air with the musical ring of chisels striking blocks of stone. Statues of men and gods, Nandi bulls, and triumphant elephants, are scattered almost carelessly at the side of the road, destined for temples or the homes of affluent Indians. Foreign tourists are quite partial to them too, I am told.

"Come." The proprietor of one of the workshops beckons me into his statue-strewn yard. "You look," he tells me, "maybe you buy? Very good, yes? The price, very reasonable," he assures me.

I shake my head. To make my point clear, I add, "Wai, illai."

The proprietor increases his efforts, motioning here, there, trying to see what I most admire. "Made from only best stone," he assures me. Most of the figures are carved from black granite, quarried, he says, from nearby Kanchipuram. I try to picture myself carting one of his ugly, pot-bellied dwarves across the country with me - he seems to specialize in dwarves, with goggling eyes and gargoyle faces. It would make a good conversation piece if nothing else.

Wanting to try out the phrases of Tamil I have learnt, I seek out something more pleasing in his collection than the dwarves, a carving with graceful curves, a nice smile. He has none, but the neighbouring yard is strewn with them, figures of dancing girls and goddesses. Much to his chagrin, I decamp to the workshop next door.

The stall holder doesn't speak English. So much the better. "Penn vendum," I say (I need a woman).

He motions across his yard. He has scores of women for me.

"Vilai enna?" I ask (how much?). He tells me. My knowledge of Tamil numbers isn't too great, but the number I think he says sounds quite reasonable. The problem, of course, is the weight. "Nandri," I tell him (thank you), "illai" (no). I finish with "Goodbye," (poittu varen), and a small amount of pride in my success at using Tamil. It seems that the 'provocative social life' part of my horoscope is quite accurate, together with the reward of meeting new people. But there is to be no romance, not even with a stone effigy of a woman. Always the way of it with horoscopes: only ever half right.