This evening, I was on the phone on a transatlantic call to Bangalore. I was talking to a bank teller about some mundane account matters. In the course of our conversation, my friendly teller needed to go check some details, and asked if he could call me back. I told him I was calling from the United States, and that it would be an international call for him. In a touchingly warm yet formal voice he told me "I'm sorry ma'am, but I do not have that privilege". In an instant, I knew what he meant, without any direct, blunt refusal.
Waves of a nostalgia swept over me, for a language, a turn of expression that seems to be receding from our daily lives. How often do I use idiomatic English, to say "You have an advantage over me" if someone I do not know recognizes me. Language is now a tool, a means to a very tangible end, not a journey to be enjoyed for its own merit. I seldom use words just because they are fun. Rather, the object is to have meaning apparent to the largest number of listeners. In this mass commodification of daily language, there is no place for beautiful, musical idioms that require context and subtext. Fare thee well, my lost language, at least till the next telephone call.
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