English

They speak English, sort of, in India, mixed in with Hindi and other languages.  Spoken Hindi, if that's what we were hearing, is incredibly fast.  It was entertaining to watch TV at the two hotels where we stayed that actually had TVs.  We watched an Indian version of Hell's Kitchen where successful chefs received a "Master Chef" apron and frequently blatantly manipulated the judges by crying and getting the sympathy vote.  Other than that, we had no clue what the conversation was.  We watched part of one drama where some dorky guy was trying to build an office building, but was approached by some evil rival.  They argue incomprehensibly for a bit, then the evil guy hands the hero a document entitled "Stop Work Notice," and the hero says, quite clearly, "Holy shit."

Trying to resolve the various travel mix-ups with the tour company by telephone was practically impossible; we usually had absolutely no idea what they were saying.  Our driver's cell phone had a ring tone that played a song that sounded for all the world like "Hallelujah, hallelujah, your love makes me sane." Given his driving, we thought any measure of sanity was worth listening to it ring every five minutes, though after about the twentieth time, just barely.  Finally, we decided that it was actually saying "your love makes me sing," which, while more logical, isn't nearly as much fun.

During a tea plantation walk, the guide turned to me and said, "Sir, another bagel."  I paused, thinking, first, I haven't had even one bagel yet, and second, should I really have a second one so close to dinner?  He insisted, telling me, "Sir, a bagel is coming."  I was still debating whether I should wait for it, and if it would still be warm by the time it arrived, when I heard the car coming, and it turns out that the Malabar pronunciation of "vehicle" sounds a hell of a lot like "bagel."