As a child, I could set the numerous antique clocks in our home by Nana’s schedule. At 7.30, she left for work. At precisely 1, she was back. Lunch was at 1.15, and tea was on the table at 3. By 3.30, she had begun to eye the aforementioned clocks as Chandra, washer of utensils and bathrooms in our home, had failed to stick to her arrival time yet again. On some occasions, she waddled in a mere half hour late. On others, there was no sighting at all. But we knew to wait a good hour before we gave up and reassigned her chores to other house help. This behavior never failed to elicit a caustic remark from my not-so-gentle grandmother:
“Chandra noh toh bhoot no bharoso!”, Chandra has all the reliability of a ghost.
Pronounced: Bhoo-t (as in toot), no (as in foe), bhur- (as in fur), -oh- (as in go), -so (as in toe)
Since few can claim to discern the inner workings of a spook’s mind, I suppose they must appear rather come-as-you-please to us mortals. Quite inconvenient, yes, but an entire genre of films would collapse if the spirit world gave advance notice of their appearances, not to mention we would never have the pleasure of this song:
Anyhoo, swooping back to ghostly (un)reliability, let’s practice our newly-acquired Parsipanu:
Dolly noh toh bhoot no bharoso. She confirms 6 o’clock and sashays in at a quarter past eight! 😡
OJ truly has bhoot no bharoso. Sometimes she’ll post every week, and at others, it’s twice a month. 😕
One last time:
Hey, is Behzad coming for the marathon?
Who knows if he’ll wake up? Enoh toh bhoot no bharoso!
Who in your life has bhoot no bharoso? And now that you are armed with this wonderfully evocative phrase, whom will you use it on? Tell, tell! Bhoot stories welcome too! 😉