Not the Bong you use to Smoke up... Part Deux.

I am breaking whole new ground with my posts. To start with, this is a follow to the one before.

To cut straight through the rhetoric and to the chase. Bongs are very passionate about sport, no two ways about that. For those of us who have actually watched a big ODI or a derby clash at Salt Lake stadium, the buzz around the stadium and in the city in general is awesome. Everybody is pumped.

When India sniffs an ODI victory at the Eden, people in the stand burn torches and with the Ganges in the background, it looks like fireflies swarming the night. But let's do a reality check here, cricket, we have a fairly decent national team. Hockey, the great Indian revival is yet to arrive, but to be fair, we are still competitive. But football, being passionate is one thing, but where is the semblance of quality? You just need to see the quality of one of our national league fixtures, an East Bengal v. Mohan Bagan for example. The skill levels are abysmal!

So bottom-line, we bongs need to get real. Our supremacy over the game is Ancient History 101. Following world soccer and playing an additive role to the mass hysteria is fine, but before we beat our chests in soccer glory/pride/knowhow, lets please first look at our bare cupboards.

In agreement with Reshma's comment, most of us look back at the Pujo's with a great degree of fondness. Happy memories, of adoring aunts and indulging uncles. The sounds of the dhaak coalescing with peals of laughter.

Ok, reality check time. Last year pujo, was my first in the past five years. What happened to my wonderful Triangular Park Pujo? The Pujo is now characterized by PYT dressed in back less choli's offering a 'designer onjoli'. Guys in a rocky-esque/vicky-esque black SUV's driving up and down the road with blaring 'house music', if you didn't know better you would think you were in West Delhi!

Coming to the language bit, yeah we aren't the only ones. It just takes two bongs to start off a fantasy trip about fresh Hilsa fish in bangla. Having said that, two mallu's could kill you with their prolonged chatter about Alleppy (presumably), and the only word one is able to discern is 'Appam'. Punjabi's well yeah, every thing from a pin to a piano, is pre-fixed with the b****d word. It is funny you know, this typical punju talk reminds me of object oriented programming (yeah it's a weird mental map!). In OOPS we have objects and classes. An object being an instance of a class. With the Punjabi speak, everything is an instance of the class b****d. Everything - cars, exams, the internet, magazines, beer...the works. I mean a car cant even move on its own, unless you fill it with gas...how could it "do its sister", or anybody's relative for that matter... including yours.

Labels: World and us