Of Different Tongues and Babel - Hyderabadi flavour

The Hyderabad of my childhood was clearly divided into two - by the language spoken on the street - Hyderabadi Hindi and the language spoken at home - Telugu. The Hindi , such as it was, was spoken by Gujaratis, Marwaris, Rajasthanis, Marathis and anyone whose mother tongue was Urdu. The Telugu part was the domain of the Andhra-ites.
Hyderabadi Hindi, like all things Hyderabadi, is our take on the national language. Chaste Hindi, like a blushing bride, is demure, formal, painstakingly well-mannered and is the prerogative of the North Indian states.
Hyderabadi Hindi? It is the language of the harridan, of narrow lanes , of foul-mouthed rickshaw-wallahs, of shifty eyed youths standing outside the Irani cafe - not a whit demure or retiring, but coarse, loud, in-your-face, filled with the cadence of the rough-and-tumble of daily life.
"Kya re, natakaan karre?" a shopkeeper abuses his hapless assistant. (English:Are you trying to act funny?)
"Nai maloom, saab. Kis ko to bhi de diye honge, nai to yahaneech hoga," my dry cleaner tells me nonchalantly about my saree that he has misplaced. (Eng:I've no idea. It's either with another customer or right here)
The plumber we've been waiting for arrives after two weeks of incessant calling and badgering.
"Kal kar detoon,saab," he promises my husband and both of us know he's prevaricating, to put it politely. He has no such intentions. (Eng:I'll finish this by tomorrow)
The Telugu spoken on the street is a mish-mash of Telangana (as opposed to Andhra Telugu!) and a translation or transliteration from Urdu.
"Damaak kharab aaindaa? Howlaa gandlekka nadipistunnav" my maid curses the auto wallah who's come dangerously close to making me maid-less. (Eng:Are you crazy? Driving like a maniac?)
He grins at her unrepentantly and flings a "Intlo cheppi vachinnava?" at her before careering wildly down the street intent on his self-imposed goal of killing at least two human beings before the sun sets. (Eng:Have you informed folks at home - a euphemism for - Are you trying to get yourself killed?)
"Jarra paissal eeyamma" she asks me as we tensely negotiate the price of spinach. (Eng:Give me the money to buy spinach)
The only Telugu word here is the last one. The first two are borrowed from Hindi/Urdu. Yet most Hyderabadis will keep changing from this patois to pure Telugu with ease.

(To be cont...Will post more later)