Once, at a party, I yawned and set off a chain reaction. Upon which, a sharp tongued lawyer friend of mine remarked, "Hum logo ka "yawn" sambandh hai.
In Hindi, yawn sambandh refers to sexual relationship. I am quite amazed at how quickly some people's brains latch on to a situation. Venky On Sep 25, 2015 8:13 PM, "Ashwin Kumar" <[email protected]> wrote: > Here is some word play in Tulu. > We were attending a lunch at my ancestral home, and they had prepared > Mango Rasayana (Mango pulp + Coconut milk + sugar). An aunt remarked that > the dish was a bit "puli" or sour. My grandmother (the cook), and a bit > hard of hearing, shouted back, "How is that possible? I had squeezed all > the puli myself. Each one I found". > puli - in Tulu also means worms. > That new movie starring Vijay (Puli) makes me laugh. In Tulu, pili means > tiger. > ~ashwin > > > Date: Thu, 24 Sep 2015 09:48:27 +0100 > > From: [email protected] > > To: [email protected] > > Subject: Re: [silk] Puns in other languages > > > > And here's some Sanskrit wordplay. > > > > http://swarajyamag.com/columns/verses-which-produce-magic-when-re-read/ > > > > I remember also being told of similar wordplay in old Kannada verses. > Story > > goes that a king wanted to test the mettle of a poetess who arrived in > his > > court. He gave her two unsavoury lines, and asked her to compose verses > > that included them (in ways that wouldn't offend, of course). > > > > Iliyam muri muridu thinnuthirpar > > (They were breaking mice and eating them) > > > > and > > Danavam kaDi kaDidu basadigoyyuthirpar > > (They were cutting up the cows and leading them into basadis, in this > > context Jain temples) > > > > And she cleverly ended the lines preceding each of them in such a way > that > > the Iliyam became Chakk-iliyam (snack similar to murukku, instead of > mice) > > and Chan-danavam (Sandalwood, instead of cows) > > > > > > > > On Thu, Sep 24, 2015 at 9:29 AM, Namitha Jagadeesh <[email protected]> > > wrote: > > > > > Rajesh, I'm married to a non-Kannadiga who can't always master the L, > so > > > he just refrains from using the word entirely :D > > > > > > There are plenty of puns within Indian languages too, I'm sure. Na > > > Kasturi, who `translated' Alice in Wonderland into Kannada, used all > sorts > > > of local references and limericks to substitute the English word play. > I > > > can't remember any from the book off the top of my head, but here's one > > > from my childhood. > > > > > > An old woman was selling lemons to a customer, who had just asked her > how > > > much each one cost. At the same time, a man ran up to her and asked > her if > > > she had seen his horse. The clever woman replied to both with just one > > > word. Na kaane > > > > > > Naak aane = 4 annas > > > Naa kaane = I haven't seen > > > > > > On Thu, Sep 24, 2015 at 9:21 AM, Rajesh Mehar <[email protected]> > > > wrote: > > > > > >> In Kannada (and many South Indian languages), there are two possible > > >> pronunciations of the sound corresponding to the English letter L. > > >> Wikipedia says these are called Retroflex Lateral Approximant and > > >> Retroflex > > >> Lateral Flap. Usually, while transliterating Kannada, they're written > as l > > >> (as in shaale or school) and L (as in baaLe or banana). Many people > who > > >> are > > >> unfamiliar with these sounds cannot pronounce the two differently. > > >> When you add to this the fact that heLu in Kannada means tell and helu > > >> means shit, there is scope for an abundance of beautiful > toilet-humor-ey > > >> puns. Imagine the wrong pronounciations of "tell me now" or "tell me > in my > > >> ear" or "tell me right here". > > >> > > > > > > >
