Blogger:
Hello, good to see you. I have some new ideas about linguistic evolution. Have you noticed how complex it to communicate with each other in India once we leave the rarified environs of the cities? Of course, you have. First hurdle in reducing this complexity is the existence of all these bloody scripts for all the Indian languages. I wish we could standardize the scripts. In a country where over 50% of the population is functionally illeterate, script standardization is a great idea. Throw away all these 15 different scripts and pick Devnagari or Roman script for all Indian languages. Besides, most of the South Indian scripts are woefully inadequate to handle borrowed words. Look at the way Mallus go around saying nonsense like "I went to the soo to see a sebra" or "the kyoon of England is a kyuck witted lady." It is easier to standardize northern languages since they already use standard Devnagari or a variation of it. Elementally, we have more similarilities than differences among all South-Indian languages. Mostly, the grammatic rules are similar, tense deployment order is the same, 90% of words have descended from Prakrut and Proto-dravidian. So why not also get a single script to go with it?
You, the reader:
Bloggerji, good idea but try getting one billion people to agree on that.
Blogger:
But you don't need one billion to agree. Let's look at the math. First of all, exclude the 60% illeterates. It makes no difference to them. It is all Greek to them, no pun. So, that leaves 400 million out of that 43% already know Devnagari script.. and perhaps 20% or so know Roman. So if you take an imperfect union.. 53% of the 400 million already know the replacement script. The actual number is far higher because excpt for TN all literates in India study Devnagari. That leaves you with some 197 million. Now eliminate very old and very young from this. Very young have no voting rights and can be retrained. Very old have no stake in this matter. So, if you do a simple breakdown of the demographics and using a forward correction (Since percentage literacy improves as population gets younger), we eliminate another 100 million. So we really only have 97 million to content with.
You, the reader:
Ninety-Seven million is a very large number, my friend.
Blogger:
Not so fast. Decisions are made by elected representatives and not by people directly. Approximately, each MP represents about 2.3 million people, so you divide the 97 million with 2.2, and what do you get?
You, the reader (now exhaused):
Now he is asking questions!
Blogger:
You get about 44 MPs. So to change the scripts, we need a swing vote of 44 fucking MPs. Is that so difficult?
You, the reader:
You bet.
Blogger:
Then elect MPs who are more amenable to the change. Change requires political will. This is where my Nationalist Draconian Party of Planetary Love (NDPPL) comes in.
You, the reader (confused):
You have a political party now?
Blogger:
You bet. We run on a platform of many draconian things that are good for you. Our party flag will feature broccoli.
You, the reader:
And a bit of spinach thrown in for design value surely.
Blogger:
Are you with us?
You, the reader:
(silence)
Blogger:
Because either you are with us or against us. Together we can form the coalition of the willing.
You, the reader:
Ouch.
Blogger:
We will invade the hearts of people, we will be greeted as liberators from the tyranny of myriad scripts.
You, the reader:
The axis of terror or some such thing?
Blogger:
Of course. Represented by all the Sahitya Academy types. There will be a show trial...
You, the reader (sarcastically):
Yeah I see them supporting your cause.
Blogger:
I will proclaim "mission accomplished" from the top of a typewriter.
You, the reader (hopefully):
Good. So then we will finish it and go home, right?
Blogger:
No. Then the war will drag on as the complexity of traslating the million billion existing documents becomes a nighmare.
You, the reader:
*shudder*
Blogger:
If anyone disagrees, I will leak out the identity of their wives' secret life as government stenographers.
You, the reader:
There is no shame in that, so what if they are stenos, they have done our work proudly, holding head high and all that.
Blogger:
Eactly. So there will be an outrage. It will be a scandal. I will have someone with an appropriate nickname of some lightly motorized vehicle in my office standing ready to take the blame for it. May be Moped Mehtaor Rajdoot Singh... How about Autorikshaw Apte?
You, the reader:
Bullet ...
Blogger:
Voila! Bullet Balasubrahmanian. It has a ring to it. Belongs to IAS, 1982 cadre from Tamil Nadu.
You, the reader:
Bullet Bala pyaar se.
Blogger:
He wears thick glasses and has a serious credible face. See, nothing is impossible.
You, the reader:
And a healthy paunch.
Blogger:
Under that light brown safari suit. Matches the official white ambassador car. Now I wish I hadn't given up my Indian passport... Uski hi kamee hai varna. I would be climbing the ladder in my perfectly creased and starched ministerial white.
You, the reader(relieved):
Yup. No chance of being an MP now.
Blogger:
MP bane mera naukar... mujhe to seedhe Pradhan matri ban-na hai.
At which point, you run away and politely suggest that I ask my doctor for an increase in dosage of my psychiatric medication.
