Why is shopping with dad absolutely nightmarish?
Reason one- Because we are ignored (not deliberately though) most of the times.
First, he walks so fast that I can never keep pace.
And then I hate this weird habit he has of striking up a conversation with every cab driver who happens to hail from Bihar, Orissa, or Delhi.
Chapra zila se hain ka?
The cab driver’s (with his broken Bengali) eyes would suddenly light up, hearing someone speak the dialect of his native place. Mom and I would silently give knowing looks to each other the whole journey. We would yawn, we would start talking on our own, but nothing would give dad the cue. He would be at the front seat so engrossed talking to the man that family would soon be forgotten. The contents of the discussion could be anything, ranging from the reason the man shifted to this city and took up cab driving to the local political scenario to who all live in his family to how much of dowry the brother-in-law demanded, basically anything under the sky. Had you not known dad, you’d have thought he and the cab driver have been best buddies in school and were separated at the kumbh mela. Mom and I would look thoroughly disinterested, trying to fix up our hair or applying lip gloss, trying to decipher broken pieces from the conversation progressing in fluent bhojpuri. And then when we reach our destination, the man would exclaim, aap bihari (or oriya, or whatever applies) hoke bhi badhiya bangali bol lete hain.
I would be on the verge of stepping forward to clarify the man’s wrong notions about my dad and his origin when (instead of clarifying the faux pas the person has just made), dad would smile at him and point at mom- ka karein? Apne sasuraal waale bangali jo thehre. And then the cab driver would speed away, his smile clearly indicative of the glee he’d experienced on having met someone from his “des”.
And then, dad would look at us guiltily and I would put my hands on my hips and make a face at him, saying- raste mein tanik hum se bhi baat kar lete. Ab chalein ka? (you could have talked to we lesser mortals too on the way. Let’s get moving anyway).
sunshine.
Reason one- Because we are ignored (not deliberately though) most of the times.
First, he walks so fast that I can never keep pace.
And then I hate this weird habit he has of striking up a conversation with every cab driver who happens to hail from Bihar, Orissa, or Delhi.
Chapra zila se hain ka?
The cab driver’s (with his broken Bengali) eyes would suddenly light up, hearing someone speak the dialect of his native place. Mom and I would silently give knowing looks to each other the whole journey. We would yawn, we would start talking on our own, but nothing would give dad the cue. He would be at the front seat so engrossed talking to the man that family would soon be forgotten. The contents of the discussion could be anything, ranging from the reason the man shifted to this city and took up cab driving to the local political scenario to who all live in his family to how much of dowry the brother-in-law demanded, basically anything under the sky. Had you not known dad, you’d have thought he and the cab driver have been best buddies in school and were separated at the kumbh mela. Mom and I would look thoroughly disinterested, trying to fix up our hair or applying lip gloss, trying to decipher broken pieces from the conversation progressing in fluent bhojpuri. And then when we reach our destination, the man would exclaim, aap bihari (or oriya, or whatever applies) hoke bhi badhiya bangali bol lete hain.
I would be on the verge of stepping forward to clarify the man’s wrong notions about my dad and his origin when (instead of clarifying the faux pas the person has just made), dad would smile at him and point at mom- ka karein? Apne sasuraal waale bangali jo thehre. And then the cab driver would speed away, his smile clearly indicative of the glee he’d experienced on having met someone from his “des”.
And then, dad would look at us guiltily and I would put my hands on my hips and make a face at him, saying- raste mein tanik hum se bhi baat kar lete. Ab chalein ka? (you could have talked to we lesser mortals too on the way. Let’s get moving anyway).
sunshine.
10 comments:
the taxiwallahs r less than usually localites
raste mein tanik hum se bhi baat kar lete. Ab chalein ka?
hilarious....
Good man, your Dad :)
:~>. . u & ur dad.... kewL... never wondered why we guyz walk sooo fast.. do we???
"To be continued………"
Ye saas bahu serial ka asar hai kahaaa ????
Scorp kng
i am reading your blog for an year now....I never wrote a comment but always loved your style of writing...
Its simply awesome!!!
:)
Eh... dekhiye ee jo hai aapne bahutei badhiya khabar sunaye hain, madamji! God bless your dad! :D
Why not take a little tuition from him (or someone who can speak that tongue) sometime? :)
I guess all dads are the same... :)
tetracyclops- true. hey nice to see u here.
maverick- he he. thanx.
notes-to-self- yeah, ask me.
ginni- perhaps because of greater physical strength.
scorpion king- no, just that 2-3 short posts are better than one long post.
anandable- why, thank you. would like to see more of you here though.
sudipta-why? am sure u can understand english perfectly.
shekhar- how wud i know? i just have one dad. he he. chill, that was a pj.
ab kaa kiya jaa sakta hai? bhojpuri bolne se hi ek bhai-bhai waali feeling aa jaati hai[:P]. aur agar koi aur bhojpuri bolne waala mil jaye, fir to controley nahi hota!!
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