AD VICE

And yes, I have that terrible habit 8212; correcting people8217;s English. My friends and colleagues hate me for it. My only defense is that it goes with the territory of being a professional writer. Whether I8217;m reading or hearing someone talk, I listen for the cadences of the language. If something strikes a false note, it jars. And my knee-jerk reaction is to edit.

I sympathise with my victims. Because I hate it when someone does it to me How dare they? That8217;s my prerogative!. The most trying situation is when you know something is right and someone insists it isn8217;t. Especially if that someone is a client. One of mine once told me that all copywriters write wrong English. Or, at best, new-fangled English. And the most common mistake we make, according to him, is to start sentences with the word and.8217; I told him that he could find sentences like that in the works of Shakespeare. And even in some of the early English versions of the Holy Bible. He was shocked at my presumed blasphemy.

Speaking of blasphemy, how does one react to that peculiar hybrid bhasha known as Hinglish? It8217;s fast becoming the official language of the ad fraternity, with Pepsi as the unofficial sponsor. Every time I hear dil maange more8217; I expect a peacock to prance onto the TV screen. As for my reaction to the multistarrer commercial: kuch naheen hota hai.

Since advertising has contributed to the corruption of the English language, we ought to do something to atone for it. We could, for example, do pro bono campaigns to improve English in India. One of India8217;s best copywriters did do such a campaign. But it was neither pro bono, nor for the benefit of Indians.

I8217;m talking about Jackie Hathiramani8217;s brilliant campaign for the British Council in Singapore. A print finalist at the One Show in 1997, the campaign featured a series of ads with the common headline 8220;Improve your English.8221; The body copy said, 8220;We have8230; courses to help you read, write and speech sorry, speak correct English.8221; The clincher in each ad was the visual 8212; a photograph of a sign written in funny English.

One ad featured a sign from an establishment called Vogue Tailors. It said, 8220;Ladies are welcome to have a fit upstairs.8221; Another ad showed a sign at a dentist8217;s which said, 8220;Teeth extracted by latest Methodists.8221; A third ad pictured a poster which said, 8220;Dog for sale! Eats anything. Loves children.8221;

If Indians can teach Singaporeans to use proper English, why can8217;t they teach their own children? I know, I know. I8217;m beginning to sound like Henry Higgins. But Jackie, why couldn8217;t you stay back and use your talent to help your fellow Indians?

Singaporeans have all the luck. Everyone in their advertising community seems to pitch in to improve English out there. Even Neil French. In a famous recruitment ad that he did for the Ball Partnership, he thoughtfully slipped in a language lesson. The headline of this long copy ad said, 8220;There is a spelling mistake in this advertisement. The first person to spot it will receive 500.8221; Though there were many attempts to win the money, the only person who caught the mistake was Neil French8217;s own secretary. I8217;m still looking for it myself! All I can conclude from this is that Singaporeans are even worse at English than we are. And so I suppose I have to forgive Jackie Hathiramani for leaving us in the lurch: He is doing his work where it is most needed.

One last thing. Don8217;t expect 500 for pointing out mistakes in this column. I8217;m not being churlish. It8217;s just that, at the going rate-per-word, I wouldn8217;t be able to afford it.