This festive season, do try to make a mash out of any language you prefer. Like my favourite Calcutta ‘Caterar’ has done with the English language.
First, it promises home ‘dalevary’, anywhere in the vicinity of Patuli, implying what you get might ‘vary’ from what you ordered. Better still, it announces: home dalevary avalavale. That sounds like Tarzan screaming his lungs off in the Congo Basin announcing the grand arrival of Calcutta Caterar in their midst.
The menu card is even more enlightening. ‘Fine’ rice denotes a thin line separating rice that has gone through some frying and that which has not. ‘Motor’ paneer is a tragic dish that always wants to run away from the consumer. Chicken 'cutlate' is dedicated to Rahul Dravid's delicate last-moment flick of the bat.
‘Motor’ paneer — a tragic dish that always wants to run away from the consumer Shutterstock
‘Eshar’ dalna reminds me, well, of Esha and it is strictly non-veg, if you know what I mean! So is mutton ‘chic’ kebab. Adult content. Prawn ‘moly’, one supposes, falls in the same category depending on whether Moly was your classmate or aunt. Reshmir alur dam breaches all sense of propriety.
Chicken ‘mariline’ blurs the boundaries between US states and the state of West Bengal. Mutton ‘glacy’ hides its Bangladeshi origins and sounds more classy than glassy!
Fish ‘kabirajee’ sounds like a poet saying yes to a marriage proposal. ‘Patal’ dorma emerges from the dark depths of the earth. One shudders to think what paneer ‘fingered’ may look or taste like. Fish ‘die’ is obviously the end of the road for some poor creature. Dhokar ‘dolna’ swings between right and wrong.
Fish ‘die’ — an obvious end of the road for some poor creature Shutterstock
I can go on and on, not just about Calcutta Caterar but about every leaflet that lands up at my doorstep along with the morning newspaper. Sadly, the role of the proofreader has disappeared from our lives. Time to revive it?
Arup Ghosh is a former journalist and communications expert.
