The Bong Connection

Bong Tip 137: Babu shonaaa!!...baayere thanda ache!..Bina Monkey tupi berobena kintu!..(troll face)

It is pretty late at night and here I am, poring over a computer screen, my brain feeling the effects of an afternoon siesta gone wrong, or long shall we say. Going through the funnier parts of a 20 year Bong upbringing and quietly chuckling to myself has so far seemed to be a much better alternative to sleeplessly tossing and turning in bed. And as usually happens at night, I find myself reflecting on something I’ve never attached any importance to, let alone give any serious thought; my bong connection

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Born in the heart of Bengal but raised in the diametrically opposite part of the country, in faraway Gujarat, my life has certainly been dichotomous to say the least. Raised in a pretty standard Bong home, learning reading and writing Bengali even though it wasn’t a part of the school curriculum, you’d think there was nothing in me that wouldn’t be like the quintessential Bong. And maybe I was, for all I know.

But over time, as my peer influence started having a greater impact on me and my friend circle started comprising of kids other than those whose houses I visited with mom and dad, I started seeing other cultures, their habits, their way of life, and started relating to them. Even then, I was still as much a bong as ever before, still relishing ever morsel of my favorite rice and fish. But something more essential in me had started changing, something that somehow seemed to be much more deeply ingrained in the other Bongs I knew.

Bongs, they say are immensely proud of their history and culture. They can go on about their achievements for hours at an end. Ouch! Did I just say they?  But then I don’t really feel comfortable using the first person pronouns here, having never done the same myself. I personally always felt more proud of Tagore being the first Indian to win the Nobel Prize than Tagore, the Bengali being the first Indian to win the Nobel Prize; always related more to Amartya Sen the economist than Amartya Sen the Bengali.

My mom says I’m weird; my friends say I’m more a Gujarati than a Bong; and I say, how different is being a Bong from being a Gujarati really? Why is it so bad if I relate more to my Indian identity than my Bengali one? Yeah I know; sounds extremely pretentious. But true nonetheless. I truly believe that a time will come when national identity shall far supersede regional identity, when a Gujarati living in Gujarat is no different than a Bong living there, when values are not a reflection of where you were brought up, but how you were brought up.

But then what do I know; I’m plain weird.