Life of a Bengali in Chennai

So where to begin-let’s start where it all starts. The traditional Bengali khoka let’s call him “Babu” (trust me that is the commonest pet name for Bengali kids) gets a cushy (yeah yeah!thats only the popular perception about it) job in one of those IT companies and is for the first time compelled to live away from home.He starts to pack and finds himself packing all his jibonanodoz and literature stuff instead of the usual earthly belongings till “ma” comes to rescue, and proudly proclaiming that “amar babu-ta boyeshei boro hoeche,ekhuno amake chara kichui parena”(my son has grown up but can’t do anything without me) arranges the stuff till babu lands up with 2-3 huge “shootkesh” not-counting the huge holdall with mattress. Thereafter,mummy becomes all sentimental and start force-feeding babu the last few days, fending off all protests saying “kheye ne baba..okhane giye okhadyo kukhadyo kheye thakbi,barir khabar pran bhore kheye ne”.D –day comes.ma and bapi comes to put babu in train.At howrah station bapi suppresses his depression with some extra haggling with the koolie saying “thik se bolo dam nehito hum nijei lejayega,kiu jhamela korta hai” till ma intervenes saying “arre ajk to jhamela korona,cheleta etodur jache” and finally babu is into the train bag baggage et all.Bapi and ma bid a teary fearwell to babu and out he goes into the wild wild south.






Babu reaches Chennai and the back-breaking job of getting all those stuff outta the train is his first brush with reality.Then he hails a coolie in sign language only to be hit with the sudden realization that the same broken hindi which stood him up in other places is useless here.Lots of useless hinglish lands him nowehere and poor babu ends up carrying his luggage himself to the prepaid taxi booth .In another scenario, he may somehow manage to convince the coolie to carry his stuff only to know later that what he assumed to be 15 rs was actually 50 rs that the coolie had asked(as the coolie solemnly claims at the end of the deal).Babu feels angry but seeing the popular mood of the angry coolie and his fellowmen , he relents.


Thanks to the half English speaking burly man at the prepaid taxi booth,babu reaches his hotel/company quarters without much of a fuss.Then comes the fateful encounter with south Indian food,to be precise the tamil diet of idli,dosa and sambar.Babu by his inborn instinct looks for dal in the menu but is disappointed at the absence of it .So he settles for sambar n idli/dosa.Eating the simple fare,he wonders what makes this people relish the sour-ness in everything(“sala sobeteyi tentul dey”) unlike what he is used to at home(the mildly sour chutney at the end of the meal).And since the meal doesn’t catch his fancy so he gets to do a bit of people-watching and discovers that the humble lungi which is used as indoor wear by Bengali-s is worn with such flourish here. Men of all ages ,with enough oil on their heads to fry a fish ride, ride motorcycles with their lungis flying behind like the cape of a superhero and nobody seems to mind. Men are free here, he concludes-at least free to show off their legs(“sojne dantar moto thyeng” to be precise with mini hair plantations on them)..And he also spots the traditional tamil woman all decked up in silks in spite of the smoldering heat with mini jasmine gardens on their head. Hereby he first misses pasher barir “tuli” whom he used to give maths lessons before her madhyamik porikha and who used to look at her with “pakhir moto chokh”(don’t think 90% of Bengali boys can come up with anything more poetic).With a sigh he finished off his food and heads to look for a pg/rented apartment.


In this situation two cases might arise-


1.he meets a group of Bengalis in the company who are also looking for a roommate and he shifts with them.


2.He looks at all kinds of pg-s with the help of the broker .He explains to the broker repeatedly “hum/me bhirbhatta mein I mean crowdy place thakte nehi parega” which the broker returns with a understanding nod only to shoo him off to look at another pg/flat with folding beds crammed into pigeon hole like rooms.If lucky he finds a north-indian roomie else he is doomed with a “sala tentul”( oh yeah!dat is d way bongs finally get down to calling their tamil counterparts).






Situation 1 seems to be a perfect solution unless it’s a weekend and babu has to for the first time wash his own clothes. How much detergent for how many clothes, how come the stylish white crisp shirt turned yellow and maroon after he put it in the same bucket as his tshirt,how come the detergent never seems to wash off totally from the clothes especially cotton ones are the innumerable questions that confuse babu and babu realizes for the first time that what ma made appear like a child’s play has a lot more to it than meets the eye. So babu suggests to his flat mates if they can get a “kajer mashi” in Chennai..And in comes the typical Chennai bai with the silk sari and jasmine garden in place and wearing more gold than babu has ever seen ma wear on occasions. Add to it, the bai finishes her work in straight 15 minutes, manages to sweep the room without displacing a single speck of dust and washes clothes so that stains are left unharmed -all these flummox babu more n more. So to ignore the mess, like most Bengali men, he chooses to overlook these and turns up in his upstart office with crinkled shirts having the occasional tea or coffee stains with such panache as if looking smart is a crime. Some of these people prefer to cook themselves and set up a kitchen with flourish only to submit later to the hectic schedules and opt for home delivery.Breaks in the mundane spicy food that these home delivery people pass as north-indian food comes in the form of visits to Annapurna at Egmore where he gets proper Bengali food as well as a healthy dose of Bengali adda,not to mention he feels at home seeing the other pot-bellied,half bald Bengali guys with glasses thick enough to put the horlicks bottle to shame,going about proudly in tight t-shirts and payjamas.






If poor babu is stuck up with option2, then he adjusts and keeps a lookout for option1.In the meantime the only solace he finds is telling ma about how much he misses “potol r dolma” and “majher jhol” .






In the meantime a strange thing happens. Suddenly he finds for himself the time to look at girls unabashed. And thus he discovers two sets of girls- the attractive north Indian-s who sport straightened hair, who have somehow mastered the difficult act of eating rice n curry and even chapatti with spoon (holding the piece of chapatti like a boat and putting the curry inside with a spoon…it is more difficult than it looks-trust me),who go about in groups which inevitably has a fat guy who looks more like a bodyguard to the queen bee(ie.the prettiest gal in d lot) and gives you an ugly look if u r caught ogling at any of the girls of the group.And for the first time he becomes conscious of the need to attract attention and hence gets a feeling in his subconscious that hair gels and nicely polished shoes are not a matter of choice but a life-saver;).The other set of girls are the regular ones with whom babu interacts on a daily basis(including his team-mates) ,who don’t make a mark beyond the world of work.


A few months of this life,and babu becomes one of the following:


1.A workaholic who works 18 hours/day during weekdays ,sometimes even on weekends lest he gives in to his own frustration of living in an alien city,eating crappy food ,earning peanuts and last but not the least not having a girlfriend to yap away on the phone like all those happy committed people(trust me when u r single all u see around are “happy couple”-s:P)..


2.An amateur photographer(suddenly photography seems to be the fashionable hobby) with his new DSLR and gets shutter-happy clicking everything from birds to beer bottles and publishing them on facebook and getting comments like “well done boy” and so on..but the new-found glamour is short lived as he finds out that by some miracle all people are these days doing the same stuff…Thus disillusioned,he abandons his camera and hence the search begins for something more fruitful..some find it in preparation for management exams,some in new job search…and so on…


Whether he is 1 or 2 or a combination of both,some things however remain common.For example: love for everything Bengali,he misses his anandabajar potrika(the e-version somehow lacks the charm of the paper copy),misses luchi and mangsho,misses bangla radio and bangla books especially the pujo sonkhyas….and longs to go home during durga puja when he gets his breath of fresh air which buoys him throughout the rest of the year…..


That in all is the story of every Bengali lad in chennai…some get transfer back to Kolkata …but they are replaced by a newer batch of fresh-out of college dreamy eyed Bengali-s and the same story begins yet again….and for those who continue to stay on, the story continues to be same …or does it change…only time will tell…..I am yet to find out:)


Note:All resemblance to any people living or dead is actual..and in none of it have i intended to hurt any of them...Even if i have taken a dig at some of them it is all meant in good humor..