Saturday, 12 April 2008

It's all in the genes

My parents are no good at arguing. Being hardcore bongs, they argue in benglish- my father in the prim and proper lingua franca garnished with Bengali gaalis (unless he is at a loss as to what to say.) and my mother in Bengali accented grammatically proper English, ornamented with rapid flow of Bengali pragmatism. I dramatised one and jotted them down here (with my bewildered parents’ approval) proving what nikammas even my parents are… when it comes to arguing.

Mother: “Ranna ghore eto tiktiki je kotha theke ashe!”

Father: “Toh onno kothae thakbe?”

Mother: “Tumi kichhu korte paro na egulo ke niye? Ektu tariye dite toh paro dekhte pele! Chattopadhyay hoyechho ki korte? Jain der moto ahimsa’r natok koro jotoshob.”

Father: “Ami ki korbo! Tumi erom bokader moto kotha bolona. Professor image ta noshto hoye jae”

Mother: “Chhele bolei ranna ghorer kono jotno nebe na! etei bojha jae kotota male dominated society amader… jotoshob chauvinism tomar.”

Father: “Ddhur. Aar boka boka kotha bolte hobe na. tomae aar amar eirom shomoye bhalo laage na…” *heaves a disgruntled sigh and gives up*

Mother: *looks at me and laughs* chharo oto chaap nite hobe na tomae. Peace maaro (winks, as she has learnt this from me)

Father: *laughs*. End of the argument.

This proves why I am such a nikamma at arguing. (But I am better than my parents.)