It started at a very young age. In fact there is even a saying I heard much, much later. “A crying baby gets the milk”. So like all other kids, I learnt to cry.

I learnt everything worth knowing at that stage through copying. Surreptitiously looking at my elder brother and learning from him. I found that whatever worth learning could be done by simply copying.

At school it helped too. “I will treat girls with respect”. How can I ever forget that? I wrote it a thousand times in a notebook as imposition. And that too for a very silly reason. Besides the girl in question is a sneaker. She went and told “Ma’m, Ma’m, this boy is hitting me with this ma’m”. And when Ma’m came to inspect, she caught me busy at work. A lit candle on my desk, various empty refills and a pair of scissors were incriminating evidence.

By trial and error with various materials, I had finally decided upon empty plastic refills as the most potent missile to deter big-mouthed girls. Especially when it is dipped in hot wax – of course, it must cool for a while- only then it hardens – and launched with a strong rubber band.

Ok-let me get back to the point. After having written- copied it 1000 times- I always remember that maybe I should have worked harder and come up with a better weapon to use against her. And that was a big lesson. See-Copying helps you learn big lessons.

But she didn’t let me copy though. Whenever I try to peek at her answer sheet, she used everything she had – her shoulders, her elbows, hair – and even her bag, to ensure that I couldn’t se a thing. And that’s why I fared so badly in academics. Had I copied, I would have become a Scientist or a Doctor.

Anyway, life goes on and the brave new world is happier with one scientist less.

When I looked around, I saw everyone copying each other. When my neighbour gets a Doberman dog, I get a pup – of same breed. When the neighbours wife gets a diamond earring, my wife wants the same. Ditto-ditto for saris, cars, and whatever you can think of.

When we eat out we copy the Chinese. And of course Americans, Mexicans, Japanese, French and everybody else. We even wield chopsticks with the panache of the Chinese.

When we watch movies, we get the feeling that this one is a bad copy of an English one. Though the fights, song and dance sequences and the vamps are our own.

When we court, we must send flowers, gift chocolates, send cards, go to the Disc, go for long drives – anything as long as it’s copied from the west.

And of course we must be dressed accordingly too. Faded jeans that remind oneself that these were made for miners to keep them from getting bruised and t-shirts that make your point clear. And for dumbos who still don’t get it, you can have everything spelt out too.

If you do business, it must be a suit. The waistcoat can be avoided considering that the temperatures are really very high. But a tie- that’s a must. They will take you seriously only when you wear the suit.

Same case with marriages. The “suit”able chap is obviously the groom. At least during the actual wedding ceremony, you get to wear traditional clothes, but for reception, it has to be a suit.

When it comes to giving a treat, it must have international fare. Indian food is passé. It sounds much better to say I had “Poulet a la roasted raw with a dash of Peebeess sauce and a hint of  tamarindo” than plain curd rice.

And of course you can’t wash down curd rice with 1826 Vintage Monsignuer Garimellose VSOP sparkling and mellow white wine, can you? Doesn’t sound very appealing.

Even it it’s raw fish, it’s ok. It’s sushi. Sounds snobbish enough. And if it’s good to copy, it must be good to eat, right?

After all this meandering, let me come to the point I wanted to get at. The language of course is copied. It must be good.

But there again, the flavour counts. Real, propah English writing cannot be done by an Indian. Unless of course he has done a stint abroad. Or won a major prize abroad. That international “feel” is what we want.

Pure Indian is common. And that’s available freely in plenty. It comes cheap.

For an American who writes about “Mutton bones for the lambs” gets a million dollars in advance. Whereas, an Indian who writes (probably even better) gets a nice smile.

It’s all about the right to copy. We can copy anybody – yeah even Shakespeare with impunity.

And we can let anyone copy. With the same impunity.

I was wondering about an age when the world looked towards India for wisdom, knowledge, learning, ivory, silk, spices – everything that had some value to them.

Times haven’t changed much. We still put everything up for sale – Cheap – Two for one, Five for Two, Ten for Three.

And then we sit and whine, like this about being copied.

Thank God I have a “©” when I write something. Something better than nothing.