I am not taking part in any Who-wants-to-be-a-millionaire competition, but find myself resorting to the phone-a-friend option to try and make sense of what my maid is saying. You see she only knows Telugu while I do not know that language. You might wonder why I cannot speak the language and the reason is simple. This was never spoken at home as my parents came from different states and so the language we spoke at home was English as there was no common ‘mother’ tongue. I have always wondered why there is no ‘father’ language. Is it because it is presumed that the child interacts most with the mother and it is but natural that the medium of communication is that used by the mum?

Returning to my quandary, the maid in question has no intention of learning a new tongue and feels that I should be the one to make an effort to master the language she is comfortable with. So, it is a no-win situation for me. It can be frustrating when I find that the few words I know in that tongue are inadequate to convey what I want her to understand.

For example, I begin by reeling off the chores that she has for the day, interspersing my instructions with the few Telugu words I know in the hope that she will get the gist of what I am trying to convey. But I find myself stopping mid-sentence as I see complete incomprehension on her face. Then she decides to give me a taste of my own medicine, which is indeed a bitter pill to swallow. She pays me back in my own coin by spewing a flood of words by way of query and explanation.

When I realise that we are speaking at cross purposes, I decide to phone a friend to play the part of translator. So, I call my pal and explain to her what I am trying to convey to the woman. Then I hand the phone to the maid whose face breaks into a smile of relief as she hears a language she is familiar with. Soon the two are having a long conversation as I stand there, a hapless eavesdropper trying to make sense of what is being said.

I feel an outsider as I see the broad smile on the face of the maid and hear her listening attentively to what is being said to her. Tempted to break into that riveting conversation, I exercise the greatest self-restraint and let the call run its course.

Then, after what seems a very long while, the phone is handed to me and my friend explains the gist of the exchange. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I see a hand pointing to the phone, asking me to hand it over again as the maid has just remembered something else she wants clarified. The instrument changes hands often over the next few minutes as each of us tries to ensure that we are getting our point across.

My patient friend listens, instructs, translates and manages to make the two of us feel that we have been successful in making ourselves understood.

This has become a daily ritual and, whenever we feel we are at an impasse, the services of the ‘translator’ are sought. I wonder how long this will last and whether we will ever be able to communicate without having to resort to a third party. I guess for that to happen one of us will have to learn the language of the other. But the million dollar question is who will be the first one to break. I fear I am fighting a losing battle.

Vanaja Rao is a freelance writer based in Hyderabad, India.