Neighbourly love

All things bright and beautiful,

all creatures great and Bong.

Its time you changed your attitude,

haven’t we been neighbours, all along?

 

You mistake our humility and quiet, 

mock and call us lame,

so lovingly christen us as ‘Oodey’

and think, Oodey and cooks, are just the same!

 

My dad’s family hail originally from Orissa and the initial years of my dad’s life was spent gallivanting on the banks of river Kharasrata that ran through their village, Kanachchanda. Dadu relocated to Kolkata to give his children better education, and a taste of city life. They schooled at Rama Krishna Mission and dadu secured a job in LIC. Having lived all their lives in Kolkata, dad and other uncles of mine had strong influences of the Bengali culture (but obviously), but never once forgetting their roots.  When we as a family relocated from Kolkata and moved down south, to Karnataka, where I was brought up, we encountered many Bengalis. We were the only Oriya family apart from another family in the colony of Shahabad. We got drawn to most of the Bengali family gatherings, mostly by virtue of my father’s extensive knowledge of the Bengali culture and literature. He writes beautiful Bangla poetry does the most enchanting kobita abriti (mejo kaku is better at the latter though). We socialised so much with Bengalis in my childhood that I learnt Bangla by default. Rabindra Sangeet was a part and parcel of my growing up years as much as Sukumar Ray and shopping for stringy frocks from Gariahat market. But then we were equally exposed to Oriya culture. So I hummed and enjoyed the Oriya –Aahe daya Maya Biswa Bihari, to Pannalal Bhattacharya’s Shyama sangeet renditions with equal enthusiasm. Alongside,  dad also introduced us to music from down south too. While still in class 2 or 3 dad regularly played Shakarabharanam, and over the years I’ve grown to enjoy Hindustani and Carnatic vocals.

And I grew up like that. Respecting, loving and enjoying all aspects of different cultures I was exposed to. Without bias. Without any kind of preconceived notions. Making racist comments are part and parcel of any Indian’s life. And I did that too. But only injest. I have dated south indians, north indians, east indians, west indians- sadly no one from central India (grinning, are you? Or do I see shock?). But have never really broken a relationship over cultural differences.

But when it came to Bengalis, as I grew, I held a strange love-hate stance. Love for everything Bengali- I will not elaborate. You know what sweeps me off my feet. I have written about it often. But what puts me off about them, often results in extreme prejudice towards the bong fraternity. I know of some families who grew up entirely in the south of India (Hyd, Blr) and who  literally owe their lives to the people and the place the live in. Ask them if the wished to ever go back to West Bengal, and they' refuse single mindedly. But will criticize the ‘Madrasi’ (what an unjust, annoying term) until their last breath. And everything is in comparison to ‘amader culture’ (kaalchaar). Like the provincial minded they behave as if culture of any sort originates and terminates in Kolkata, the culture capital. To them Amartya Sen is a Bong first and an economist next.

Oh and their attitude towards my fraternity- the Odiya folks. We are called Oodeys who cook in their houses. Kelucharan Mahapatra, Pratibha Ray, Nandita Das,  were cooks too in their houses?  To them Orissa means a visit to Puri, a quick darshan of lord Jagannath, pujo shopping of Bomkai and Sambhalpuri Sarees and a dip in the sea. All this, besides haggling the life out of the conch seller on the beach.

And while the busy Bengali intelligentsia debate over Didi’s politics and the rising fish prices, let me tell you, they have little regard for anyone or anything non-bong.  

What makes me sit up at 6.30 am on a Saturday morning to narrate my life’s cultural influences?  A sense of raging anger. I am seething. And the reason will not be disclosed, of course.

You might want to argue- not ALL like that. I’ll agree, gladly.

You might also want to argue and disagree to all that I have said. Be my guest.

And while I swore to resist racism, you people compel  me to become one.

 

(My bong blog friends, none of this was to insult you.  I love you way too much for this kind of outrage. You are my evolved, lovely, beautiful bong bondhus :-))