Last night during a half hearted attempt at organizing a cluttered cabinet, I came across a couple of old roadside photographs taken during family trips to India. They show two modest hotels with worthy names that caught our eyes. Both pictures were taken en route to more interesting places.
Hotel Kant was photographed by my daughter in 1999 when we were traveling to the Taj Mahal in Agra. The other (with several spelling mistakes) was spotted in 2001 on the way to Ajanta, the site of fabulous ancient Buddhist cave paintings in western India.
Accidental Blogger 
9 responses to “Not Exactly The Taj Mahal”
Ah yes, the Hotel Kant — where the standards of hospitality are so high as to be a universal law for all domiciles. Don’t know what the defining feature of the Hotel Ruchira should be…discuss amongst yourselves!
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“Where the standards are so high as to be a universal law for all domiciles”…and where each guest is treated as an end in his or herself, naturalisch.
No doubt the Hotel Ruchira is a lovely place, but there’s not much in the sign to suggest any resemblance between the proprietess and our Ruchira who, to my knowledge, is neither Punjabi, South Indian, Veg, or connected to any Graden.
I always feel vaguely guilty about my amusement at English errors in signs and menus and such, even in places where English is the first language, let alone in places where it’s not and I don’t speak the language of the writer. Not that my awareness of my hypocrisy stops me from laughing. Still, my favorites, maybe because of that awareness, are errors in official signs. I mean, individuals deserve to be cut some slack for trying, but when an entire, sovereign nation can’t come up with a single decent translator, there’s something wrong.
On a trip with my sister to the People’s Republic of China in 2006, we saw a number of particularly hilarious examples of this. Here’s one of my favorites , from the “Mysterious Grand Canyon” outside Kuqa, in the Uyghur region of far Western China. It was, indeed, a peculiar and dangerously steep massif, which was overhanging emptily. (That the pretty sandstone canyon was a natural refuge from the heat used by Uyghur shepherds for millenia before the government blocked it off, added some ugly concrete and metal viewing platforms, and granted the right to charge admission to a local Han Chinese CPC member is a separate story.).
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Indian hotels routinely use first and last names in their marquees. But Hotel Ruchira and Hotel Kant are particularly interesting in that both names are quite rare. My name has gained some popularity in my children’s generation; it was very uncommon among my own peers.
I love mistakes in public signs – as much as I love interesting road names and signs. Mistakes in spelling and linguistic use in English are more ironic in an English speaking country. In India, they are merely funny. Although English is widely spoken and understood, not everyone in India is really well versed in the language. Road and commercial signs are most commonly written in English even if accompanied by a regional language version. Those commissioning the signs as also those writing them, may have little or no command of English. Hence the bloopers. Given that most Indian markets, bazaars and businesses don’t bother with conformity of banners and signage, the displays are very lively and distinctive. But as you said, they still trigger laughter even when poetically describing a massif “overhanging emptily.”
Andrew:
Don’t know what the defining feature of the Hotel Ruchira should be…discuss amongst yourselves!
“Special Rates: 15% off for bloggers!” ???
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Hotel Taj Mahal, Montreal, Canada.
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The Eagles’ original:
On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
’this could be heaven or this could be hell’
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say…
Welcome to the hotel california
Such a lovely place
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the hotel california
Any time of year, you can find it here
Her mind is tiffany-twisted, she got the mercedes bends
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
The Hotel of Ruchira version: (to be sung to the same tune)
On the Grand Trunk highway, dusty grime in my hair
Warm smell of masala, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shivering dacoit
My head grew angry and my look was fierce
I had to stop for a fight
Ruchira stood in the doorway;
I heard her siren song
And I was thinking to myself,
’this could be very right or be very wrong’
Then she cooked up a dosa and she fed me some rice
Cats were meowing down the corridor,
They sounded so very nice…
Welcome to the hotel of Ruchira
In the foggy rain
Such a bloggy brain
Plenty of food at the hotel of Ruchira
Any time of year, you can eat it here
Her mind’s Accidentally-twisted, she got a fabulous site
She got a pretty, pretty boy, whom she loves in the night
How they prance in the courtyard, eating their bread.
Ruchira takes a sip of wine, it goes to her head
Etc… Heh, heh…
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Okay, okay, so I did the rest too:
Original continued:
So I called up the captain,
’please bring me my wine’
He said, ’we haven’t had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine’
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say…
Welcome to the hotel california
Such a lovely place
Such a lovely face
They livin’ it up at the hotel california
What a nice surprise, bring your alibis
Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said ’we are all just prisoners here, of our own device’
And in the master’s chambers,
They gathered for the feast
The stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can’t kill the beast
Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
’relax,’ said the night man,
We are programmed to receive.
You can checkout any time you like,
But you can never leave!
Hotel of Ruchira version:
So I texted the front desk,
’please bring me my chai’
He said, ’we don’t have any cow milk here. Hum kia karain, hai’
And still those pussies were howling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say…
Welcome to the hotel of Ruchira
In the foggy rain
Such a bloggy brain
I’m givin’ it up at the hotel of Ruchira
Eating daal with rice, real basmati rice
Lizards on the ceiling,
Vat 69 on ice
And she said ’we are all just bloggers here, please don’t mind the lice’
And in the webmaster’s chambers,
They gathered for the feast
The stab at keybords every then and now,
But they just can’t kill the cow
Last thing I remember, there was
Knocking on the door
It was just the jamadar
Coming in to clean the floor
’relax,’ said Ruchira,
We are programmed in Java script.
You can checkout any time you like,
Or this room can be your crypt!
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Wow Abbas! Now tell us what you are drinking – Vat 69, is it? :-)
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Ha-ha — this was hilarious — nice work Abbas.
“Programmed in java script” indeed…
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My favourite hotel sign is from Mysore : “Dine, Dance, Drink and Dwell at Hotel ____”
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