The sob story of a proof reader.

What do you do on a rain soaked day ? Sit up and try to act busy? Well I did something that took a little bit of effort and lot of patience. Well, I helped my room mate who thinks in Korean and writes in English to write her Master's thesis. To my worry and to my wonder, she expressed her self in such a way that would send chills down the person who might be appointed to read it and be entrusted with the job of valuing it.

Her opening sentence read- "I hereby say India prefers whites. We korean people meet number of white indians. Indians brainy but prefer job outside".

 Her intention was to write about the process of brain drain and brain gain. But as she was not very comfortable with English she began writing whatever came to her mind. It was also insanely funny to read what she thought of Indians and their preference for white skin, their identity, the notion of nationality and patriotism.

  

In a last minute attempt to help her finish her work I volunteered to edit, proofread and make sense of the garbled and mangled english that lay typed in front of my eyes. What followed was a very funny conversation; where I tried to look whether anything could be salvaged and if she could scrape through to get passing grades.  

What I had not known was that, she kept writing in bouts, whenever she felt like writing and whenever she thought it was necessary to add volume to what has already been written. So every half an hour I would get a new version of her document marked new,updated, ultra new,final, ultra final, print, and final print. 

One night when my sleep was dropping big huge hints about how I should be sleeping soundly now, I stand up and yell at my meek room mate. I said- "Final now, nothing later." A minute later, I realize that I had just spoken to her in broken english, talk about assimilation and unlearning and learning of new skills.

As of today, I see a gleaming room mate holding her little printed work with the words written on it saying it is her original work. She opens up the acknowledgement page of her thesis to show me the sentence where she says I owe my tanks to my room mate.

I sit up dejected, one pagee where I did not check for errors was her acknowledgement and there lo behold she says - She owes me her tanks. Battle tanks I say. Battle cry!

Amen. Peace.