Lost in Pronunciation: Phonetic Follies
When I first landed in the US, I settled in Santa Clara, California, a quiet neighbor to bustling San Jose, home to a major airport. Whenever anyone asked where I lived, I’d say, “Santa Clara, near San Jose.” However, my pronunciation of San Jose was a bit off-key. I confidently pronounced it as “San-Josay,” which always got a few amused looks.
Being a typical Indian, I treated ‘J’ as a simple ‘Jay’. I kept saying it that way until one fateful day, a colleague interrupted me, “It’s not San Josay… it’s San Hosay!”
“Huh? But why? Where did the ‘H’ sneak in from in Jose?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Because the word has Spanish roots,” he explained. From then on, reluctantly but correctly, I switched to “Hosay”. Life went on with my newfound linguistic twist.
A few months after settling in New Jersey, I noticed a colleague returning from lunch every day with a hefty cup of soda labeled “Baja Fresh.” One day, as he strolled back with his cup, I casually remarked, “So… another day at Baa-Jaa, I suppose?” I pronounced it as “Baa-Jaa,” akin to a musical instrument in Hindi.
He paused, clearly puzzled by my pronunciation, before giving a hesitant “Mm-hmm.”
“Is there live music at the restaurant?” I pressed on.
“No, why would you think that?” he replied.
“Then why call it Baa-Jaa Fresh? ‘Baa-Jaa’ means a musical instrument in my language,” I innocently asked.
Realizing my linguistic mix-up, he burst into laughter, gently correcting me, “It’s not pronounced Baa-Jaa, but Baa-Haa!” Suddenly, memories of “San-Hosay” flooded back, and I realized it was likely a Mexican restaurant where ‘J’ is pronounced as ‘H’. Oh, the embarrassment!
But the saga didn’t end there. Now, I became hyper-aware of the letter ‘J’, and my brain would kick into overdrive whenever I encountered it in unfamiliar words and names. The ultimate test came at Chili’s restaurant. I was having lunch with a couple of friends, and when it was my turn to order, I decided to try something new.
“I’d like to have the Cahun (Kay-Hun) chicken pasta, please,” I confidently requested, handing the menu back to the server.
“I’m sorry, sir. Could you repeat the order, please?” she asked, looking puzzled.
“I’d like to have Cahun (Kay-Hun) chicken pasta, please,” I repeated nervously, sensing something off from her expression.
“Do you mean Cahun (Kay-Jun) chicken pasta, sir?” she asked, amusement twinkling in her eyes.
“Yes, yes. That’s what I mean,” I replied, attempting to conceal my embarrassment.
So I went back to check the origin of the “Cajun” and discovered that it didn’t have roots in the Spanish language after all. Despite the relentless barrage of embarrassing experiences, there was a silver lining—I was constantly learning.”
