I was talking to my mom about something the other day when she stopped me to ask what a word meant. Unusual because we were speaking in Bangla, and normally I’m the one asking. It’s not a word she’s familiar with, and must’ve been something new-to-her that people started using, before it bled into everyday dialogue. I must’ve picked it up and brought it back when I was there last. I thought it was interesting: here I am – we ALL are – living through evolution. If something like language grows and evolves with its users, why do we hold on to its present form so furiously?
It blended back into the shadows, but reemerged one day when I was doomscrolling. I found a Bengali-New Yorker making a joke and delivering the punchline in Banglish. Funny, nailed it, no notes, but the comment section is full of trolls making fun of how he speaks: sounds too American, he can’t distinguish a ত from a ট, or his ট and ঠ sound the same, etc. We’ve all seen some variation of this.
There are so many Bengali-hyphenates who, due to their/our upbringing, don’t speak Bangla the way it’s spoken in Bangladesh. People from West Bengal speak a different Bangla than in Dhaka; Sylhetis have their own dialect, as do Chatgaiyas, as do Dhakaiyas, and so on. So when we’re in a foreign place entirely and we find some semblance of familiarity, why’s our gut reaction to point out a flaw rather than appreciating the thing that brings us together? To make it personal, being constantly corrected or ridiculed or singled out gets taxing.
When amma came to visit me in London, I took her to my favourite Bangali cafe in Bethnal Green, Charista (ছারিস্টা in Bangla). After making small talk with the owner, she immediately started correcting his Bangla and telling him why it should be চারিস্টা instead. She was right, but that was never the point. The cafe owners probably would’ve changed it if they really cared, or if more people raised the issue, but when the main priority is running your business and ensuring its success, is a “typo” in a neon sign that non-Bangalis don’t even know about your top priority?
The word my mom asked me about was পেরা/প্যারা । It’s more spoken than written, I don’t know the correct spelling, nor the direct English translation. The closest I can think to liken it to is ‘stress’ e.g. “What are you so stressed for?” Or “why are you taking on such a hassle?” It kind of feels like that’s what amma did in Charista, but I think that’s what brought bhaiya and I together that day. He was being a good sport while amma explained the bangla alphabet to him, because we shared that same look that people exchange when they realise an elder is on a tirade. I get where she’s coming from though. Any Bangali will tell you the importance of language, and any Bangali who’s lived through 1952 and then 1971 will double down… so maybe I’m being too harsh in my judgement. But what’s the point of stressing over the small stuff if things are going to change over time?
