Last winter…

After a majorly disintegrated road network of Kanpur, Lucknow roads were a pleasant surprise. Wondering why this step-motherly treatment with Kanpur! Lucknow was much cleaner and organized than was stored in my childhood memory. Hazratganj looked regal with all classy black and white similar boards on all shops and newly painted grills on both sides of the well maintained road. Also saw Mayawati’s famous creations and I suffered from an immediate pang of emotional indigestion! The feeling was very close to the one I get when I see a lot of money burned as firecrackers or a life wasted away by smoking cigarette. I think it will take quite a bit of emotional cleansing to get rid of this feeling.

On our way back I saw a statue of Rani Laxmibai, adorned with her sword, intense frown and a crown of thorns on her head, sitting upright on horseback right in front of the huge gate of Vidhan Bhavan. She seemed unable to guard the entrance of the building from the dirt that commuted to Vidhan Bhavan everyday or the dirt that had accumulated on her over the years. A garland of flowers, that had dried with time, unearthed the fact that she still attracted secret admirers!!!!

A few days back...

My first time at Chandigarh airport. Small, cute, nicely done... Most travellers seemed to be in groups, some groups traveling to Mumbai or Goa, some returning from their excursion in Himachal or other parts of the North. Mummy jis, Daddy jis, youngsters, little ones, cousins, uncles, aunties, even grannies!

After checking in, I got busy with my iPad; the smell of food made me look up, and unbelievably every person sitting there was eating something or the other; some had taken out their tiffin boxes that smelled of parathas and achar, some were buying stuff from the little shop that seemed to have every food item starting from chips to biriyani!!! And to add to it, a couple of pigeons appeared from somewhere and started to move around the people who had food. Very few single ladies or men sat there with a book or news paper in their hand, as if to run away from the aroma of food. Had everyone come from home hungry? 

The announcer at the airport, I am very sure, had his previous job at Big Bazaar. Every now and then he was announcing something while we waited for the flight to be ready for our boarding! Unusual experience, of course, but interesting!!!

On being Bengali...

Now that  I have been a part of a Bengali family for more years than my existance as a Punjabi, I can narrate my journey. The initial reaction that I used to get from Bengalis after my marriage was - oh just wearing certain things and trying to speak the  language does not make you a bengali, we have such a rich cultural heritage, Punjabis are showy and have no cultural background, all they can do is dance to the loud beat of Bhangra, and eat chhole. We have various cuisines for special occasions and the delicacies are served one by one in order to enjoy each taste. You won't even be able to feed your husband shukto or chingdi maachh er malai curry if he wishes so. My love for taanter sari was also mocked- every cotton sari is not just taant, they have different names, this is dhonekhali, that is dhakai- what will you teach your children, they won't be able to communicate with the rest of the family, sing Rabindra   sangeet or read Sharatchandra. And the final stroke- You have to be a born Bengali to be able to do certain things! Whenever I meet a new Bengali family in the community they have to pass some comments to let me know that they are already aware of my origin. I have learned to laugh it away!

Now after 27 years, with the help of my family, I have been able to nullify all those charges. I can cook most Bengali dishes, speak , read and write the language fluently; have read many classics and soaked  my sensibilities in the depth of beautiful poetry while still enjoying my Punjabiyat. My daughter has grown up with all this and much more which has helped her to be a global citizen while firmly rooted in her heritage, where as all those who mocked, me tried hard all their lives to alienate themselves from their background unsuccessfully pretending to be more like what they are not. They are sceptic about settling down in their homeland. Their bangaliyana is sholo aana visible only during puja, competing with each other to be more and more culturally aware Bengali. They are nostalgic about the literature and music they have been fed with as kids but have failed to pass it on to their next generation. Isn't their own confused existence responsible for it?

I sometimes wonder if a culture can become demonic and engross humanity?

Does living in the enclosed walls of clannish fort and not breathing fresh  air makes one culturally rich? The hypocritical love for one's pedigree on one hand and secret wish to fly in the open sky knowing no bounds on the other can create complex personalities. To achieve the right balance between the two.....