Bengali Parties by Anna

We attend a lot of Bengali parties. Usually, at a party in someone's home, my friends and I hang out in a separate room away from the adults. We try to avoid them (especially me) because they are sure to ask me to sing or one of my friends to do something. And that's the last thing we want to do! They have their own music and recitation sessions!

The fun part though is that everyone has a great time. We chat, play games, and of course when you go to a party there is always food.....right? At Bengali parties, they serve you Indian food. Sometimes it can be very spicy. Some of the kids who are not used to eating spicy food sit down with 2 to 3 glasses of water, and I am one of them. About the spiciest thing I can eat is black pepper! My dad has four to five green chillies with his dinner!

The parties usually last till 12:00 am, sometimes ending at 1:00 am. By the time a party is over, everyone is tired, yawning, and falling asleep. My dad dozes off at the party itself by 11:00 p.m. and the same goes for my sister. Most of the times we have to carry her to the car. Sometimes one can have enough of it!

Come On Baby Shake Your Hips! Hey Bubba Show Your Moves!

The Bengalis sure know how to dance. Back home we used to have dances at the Club, where with each number being belted out either by a live orchestra or recorded music, we did see some exciting moves but nothing like the ones over here.

In a wedding reception, with Kajra re kajra booming in the background, Mr. X suddenly started flapping his arms like a seagull. It looked like he was all set to fly over the chandeliers. Mrs. X grabbed his arm ….. swaying her sari draped hips … and placing the index and middle fingers of both palms shaped in a "V" next to her eyes. Not to be outdone the cute Mr. and Mrs. Y pushed themselves into the center of the crowd jumping like pogo sticks. It was time to show off the salsa lessons diligently taken for the last six months.

My husband Mr. R, a Delhite by birth, switched to Bhangra moves. He accidentally kicked a couple of people on the shin and I just lost part of a freshly pedicured nail. As the music switched to a gentle romantic number, Mr. Z grabbed Mrs. Z, trying to pull her into a waltz and nearly suffocating the lady to death! And when the DJ started Dhoom Machale Dhoom, Oh boy, all hell broke loose. People were gyrating all over the place, the American guests joining in with mucho gusto, and the cute Mr. and Mrs. Y doing karate chops in thin air which fortunately did not land on anyone. The Bengalis were on the go, a kaleidoscope of colors furiously pacing the floor.

Touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me soniyaa
Touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me soniyaa

Mr. X was poking his wife on and off, trying to keep up with the lyrics...

Sexy lady on the floor
He’ll be coming back for more……

Mr. Y was swaying as he advanced towards his wife like a panther in slow motion.

The Macarena, the Electric Slide, Cotton Eyed Joe, fast paced Spanish numbers, Punjabi songs …. we danced to one and all. The numbers were given life with improvised unprecedented moves. During the Macarena, the enthusiastic ones in the crowd were slapping themselves all over as if to purge something from within; and the Electric Slide inspired some to march sideways and then forward and backward. The crowd just needed uniforms and a flag!

Hurrah hurrah we bring the jubilee
Hurrah Hurrah the flag that makes you free….

Yeah, the party was a good one! Everyone got to show their moves, lost some calories, nice food and drinks, the bride and groom were spectacular …… Ciao till the next one. Just avoid the waltz, Beethoven would have refused to compose music for such surreal acrobatics. By the way, classes in Latin dancing might help, try the tango………don't pass up on the chance to trip a fellow Bengali!

Hello Dadu!

"Hello Dadu!" As the voice of the bus conductor pierced through the consciousness of pleasant contemplation on the merits of Bengali sweets, Mr. A was rudely awakened to the notions of "relation" and "respect". An American Bengali and our family friend, Mr. A or as we call him A-Dada was on an extended tour of Kolkata.

We Bengalis love the notion of “relation” and respect. A senior couple is addressed as Dada/ Boudi or Dada/Didi by a younger couple. We grew up addressing the contemporaries of our parents as Kaku/ Kakima, Mesho/ Mashi, their younger friends as Dada/Didi, elder kids were often addressed as Dada/Didi. In modern Bengal these terms though still in existence may be slowly eroding.

Some Favorite Bengali Words:
Dada: elder brother
Didi: elder sister
Boudi: wife of elder brother
Kaku/ mesho: uncle
Kakima/ mashi: aunt
Meshomoshai: uncle - grandfatherly person!!!!!
Mashima: aunt - grandmotherly etc!!!!!

……. And their meaning in the US:
(you are older than me; I am frozen in time.)

In the US we have given a different slant to the traditional Bengali terms. Usually people get offended by the Dada-Didi tag except the ones who are fearless about their age.

If you are 50+ or approaching the age, own up to it buddy, it’s no big deal. I mean, though nobody says it, people know your age. How long can you stall the journey?

I am 39, I know sometimes it hurts to be 39; but when I see my children growing up, I look forward to the coming years. You could say I am at peace without the botox or collagen extras!! But I feel a twinge of irritation when young adults in their late 20s or 30s call me mashi, or my husband mesho. Hey! When did I adopt you guys? – my eldest is just twelve! Besides, I call your mom who is approaching or has passed half a century of glorious life on planet earth, either by her name or didi. So for us, a simple Dada/ Didi will do.

My parents often visit me from India. My dad is seventy two and my mom sixty-two. Where, a polite Mr. X/ Mrs. X would have sufficed, Bengalis in their late forties, fifties and sixties call them mashima/ meshomoshai. Can you honestly walk up to a senior American couple and call them uncle/ aunt? And this is done to the visitors from India only. But you cannot call a sixty or seventy year old American Bengali meshomoshai or mashima. Age stopped for the Bengalis when they came to the US.

Bus conductors and shopkeepers and the common Bengali in India have the bad habit of affectionately calling someone on the wrong side of fifty as dadu /dida or mashima/ meshomoshai. And Mr. A was addressed as "Dadu" by a bus conductor on his recent trip to India.

My friend Pam has solved the problem. She addresses all by name, even the eighty year old Mrs. Sen.... "Hey Sheila what's up?", like we used to do at school, call everyone by name.

Anyway, silly bickering. I love the notions of "relation" and respect, and am about to attend the wedding of my 35 year old adopted niece. So what if she calls me mashi, love and affection are all that matters! But please do tell your son or daughter not to call us Jethu/ Jethima.

Jethu: Dad's elder brother
Jethima: Dad's elder brother's wife

Bengali Pleeze!!!!

I became more of a Bengali after coming to The States!

In India, though we spoke Bengali at home, most of the conversation at school and with friends would be in English. People called us “anglicized”. Form the day I landed in the US, I started missing all things Bengali and looked forward to having conversations with other Bengalis in our tongue, yearning for a simple namaskar. I did receive such a greeting in the Central library, in Manhattan, from a homeless and very American guy who had a pile of books on the Far East on his desk. Don’t get me wrong, but after ten such namaskars and with the perfect bow accompanying each greeting in a span of ten minutes, I was ready to quit the library in alarm, all appreciative of the “hello”. But in retro, I appreciate all those namaskars, and send a namaskar to him whose name I will never know.

Here at home, we speak in Bengali, occasionally the conversation flowing in English. I love the melody of our language and for my life cannot understand why fellow Bengalis give speeches in English at parties and weddings or any other formal event, even when the crowd comprises mostly of Bengalis.

It’s painful to watch the expression of the bride and groom, trying to appear cheerful and not cringe when the fathers and uncles from both sides give witty and loving speeches in English that is kind of lost in translation! We Indians are naturally emotional and very informal kind of people. At an otherwise very enjoyable wedding, the emotional “benglish” speech went on for half an hour. And some of us were forced to stare into space or nothing in particular with a beatific smile so as to not look at the perplexed faces of the English speaking guests. They were trying their best to understand, especially the part when the uncle spoke about the groom’s bygone diaper days. Hey folks, have pity on your kids and guests! Either read out a crisp speech in English from paper or Bengali pleeeze!

Why do we tend to get all mad and upset in English? A lot of Bengalis I know switch to English when they are really upset. My husband does and I have seen my friends doing it. And I wonder if the immigrant Italians or Russians or French revert to English to express their anger? Is it just an immigrant thing so that we have the best of both worlds?

More Later.

Adda, Meals and Leftovers

Back home, we did not have too many weekend parties, and on birthdays and minor occasions, Maa and Poornima would prepare a meal of fish fry or cutlet, kashmiri aloordom (dry spiced potato curry), polau (similar to the fried rice), kasha-mangsho(goat curry), macher-kalia (fish curry), sweet pepper with posto (ground poppy seeds), chutney and sweets. Here, when I am not catering the food, I have downgraded the menu to fish fry for snacks; chicken curry, fish or shrimp in mustard gravy, and some kind of veggie-mix for dinner; and home made mishti doi (sweet yogurt) or canned rosogollas (sweets made out of cheese) for dessert.

However, the Bengalis I know are amazing cooks. And unlike me, the meals they serve are elaborate affairs.

The usual weekend parties and are a treat for palates reined in throughout the busy week. The basic meal starts with aloo (potato)-posto, or something-posto. We Bengalis have a love affair with our posto! Then follows the daal (lentils), either with a dash of lime leaf or with a touch of uchhe (bitter gourd), lau-chingri (squash with shrimp), kumro shag or poi shag (all leafy vegetables), different types of fish, chicken curry and goat curry. The great chefs often add to the items listed here, but being a mere mortal, translating all the names from Bengali to English is almost impossible for me.

As soon as the food is served, we queue up before the buffet, urging the kids to eat first. The men go next and finally the women. The feminists and the modern usually line up with the men, and folks waiting at the end of the line risk missing out on some of the delicacies.  After dinner the food is praised unanimously, and the Bengalis sit down for a leisurely adda.

It is difficult finding a synonym for this word, as ADDA is exclusive to the Bengali spirit. It conveys a wealth of meaning! In a few years, as the west gets to know more of the east and Jhumpa Lahiri, adda will find its very own place in the English dictionary next to guru, pundit and yoga.

Definition of adda (pronounced as aad-da): We the Bengalis, sit in a circle or groups, and over cups of tea or coffee or drinks, talk about a variety of subjects, from literary works …. cricket …. movies ………….. to world politics. The more artistic ones might even sing a few songs or recite lines of poetry.

(Point to be noted: The Bengalis who left India in different decades, have remained faithful to the songs popular during their time in India. It is as if the clock stopped for us when we left India. Some o us do know the modern songs, but we tend t belt out the old numbers with quite a passion.)

When satisfied that we have covered nearly every topic on the planet, shared our noble ideas with the world, sang to our hearts content, given headaches to the quiet ones, we finally depart for home. Yes, we usually help the hostess clean, pack the leftovers, and often take some with us. The principled ones to their credit, always decline to take the leftovers; but humble ones like me who dread cooking every day, accept with a smile and gratitude. The crowd starts to trickle down from 12:30 a.m. and the exodus happens hopefully by 1:00 a.m.

Rabindranath Tagore (the Bengali noble laureate) writes in one of his poems that instead of being a rice and adda loving bengali he would rather go a la roaming the vast deserts of Arabia like a Bedouin.

But the typical Bengali, and I am one, cannot live without the elaborate meals, rice and our “adda”, and of course a slice of the left-overs!

Views Of An Eight Year Old

My parents always try to make me speak Bengali at home but I usually do not! My sister is much better than me at speaking Bengali. My parents do not say it to me but I am smart enough to know! On the bright side, my grandparents always say that I am very good at speaking in Bengali. Mom wears saris but I feel they are a nightmare! How does she manage it?

But it is really fun to be a Bengali. One of my favorite Indian dishes is luchi (a thin and puffy bread made of flour). You can eat it with daal. You can also eat it with aloordom (a potato dish).