No pun intended

I love multilingual puns. But was a bit zapped to have unintentionally formulated a multilingual pun myself in the most inappropriate of circumstances. I was talking to my grandmother the other day and instead of the usual greeting I decided to be more adventurous, starting with a "Hi grandmom". She took her time but then politely asked me why I was going "Hay Hay" in the morning (India time). BTW, "Hay" in Hindi stands for an exclamation stemming usually from some undesired event, even being associated with death. She was partly kidding of course, being quite conversant with the English language. But it temporarily made me ponder about my fascination with multilingual puns. Sorry grandmom.

Inspiration

I attended two graduation ceremonies (call them convocations if you like) as a graduating student myself, a couple more at one of the Ivy schools when my friends graduated. It always seemed the usual affair, with a lot of smiles floating around, shaking of hands, the key figures repeating the same words, praising the graduating students and the school itself. They were all probably nice affairs. With their own Kodak moments, fleeting memories, special to the individual collecting his/her own degree. But then the moment was gone. And with that, that special feeling of the day ever so special. Not a word of any speech was ever etched in anyone's mind, nor the feeling captured forever. It was all a lovely experience. But gone. All that remains is a certificate as you stretch to remind yourself of why that day was so special.

Never had I imagined a convocation ceremony speech along such lines as shown in the video below. Inspired me from the moment I first came across it. Read the speech and viewed the video many times over the past year or so.

May it inspire many more...Thanks Steve.

A glimpse of the Heaven I saw...

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the Fairmont Jasper Park Lodge

I don't remember exactly when it was that I stumbled upon the mesmerizing "The Complete Sherlock Holmes" volume by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Probably when I was all of eleven years old. While readers usually end up die-hard fans of the master detective, I remember being totally wowed and intrigued by the suspense web and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's narration style. It was gripping. The English was different. It felt cold. It felt dark. Some of the stories seemed very scary but there was no way I could ever put the book down. It was a quantum leap from all the prose in school and the literature I had read till then. He soon became my favorite author. The Enid Blytons, the Alistair Macleans and Alfred Hitchcocks soon evaporated and paved the way for a new dawn in writing and literature, as far as my eleven year old mind was concerned. One of the phrases I then came across and had great trouble understanding is still (and will be forever) etched in my mind. It popped out from the very first Holmes case, A Study in Scarlet. The phrase happened to be "ineffable twaddle". It could be very much relevant today - quite apt as goes this post, as no doubt some of you might agree.

I have since, read extensively. Have definitely come across much better (and accepted) English authors like James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Virgnia Woolf etc. but Sir Arthur Conan Doyle holds a special place in my heart. Even today.

So imagine my surprise when I and my friend checked in at the Fairmont Jasper Park Lodge and I stumbled upon this. By this, I mean this : I knew it was the #1 Golf Resort in Canada and was one of the premier locations to stay while in the Canadian Rockies. What I did not expect was to find this written somewhere inside the extensive and sprawling resort:

A New York man reaches heaven, and as he passes the gate, St. Peter said, "I am sure you will like it". A Pittsburgh man followed and St. Peter said, "it will be a great change for you". Finally, there came a man from Jasper Park Lodge, "I am afraid" said St. Peter, "that you will be disappointed."

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, from 1925 Jasper Park Lodge guest book.

I gulped. I called the front desk to see the guest book. It was nowhere on display. After quite a bit of effort, the gracious manager Loraine told me that I would find the guest book signed by the great author in the town archives. I sighed. I had come close. But there were other mountains to climb and rivers to cross - literally, since we intended to hike in the Rockies.

The scent was indeed afoot...And I vowed to come back. Someday. I shall view the guest book alright.