ITS ALL IN THE NAME (Kumro Chechki)

I received an email from a friend about the deadly combination of Bengalis and nicknames. It goes something like this

Some of the bengali names given to the boys when they are born are Chhoton, Bulbul, Khoka, Laltu, Gogol, Babu, Buro, Tutu, Bubu, Ghoton, Bhutan, Chhotka, Shanto, Bubai, Tubul . . . et al. Here is an attempt to alert people to a great injustice that is being perpetrated upon the sons of Bengal.

So you thought they were wimpy to begin with. Far from it!!! Their current state is a result of years of conditioning by the oppressors, namely, the women. By using panoply of psychological weapons, they have reduced these fine men to what you mostly see today. Let us focus on the first weapon in their hands - the nickname.

When a son is born into a Bengali household, he is gifted with a resonant, sonorous name. Bengali names are wonderful things. They convey majesty and power. A man with a name like Shushmito, Shamrat, Samudro, Rudro, Prokash, Indrojeet,Shurojit, Proshenjit, Bishshodip, etcetera, is a man who will walk with his head held high, knowing that the world expects great deeds from him, which was why they bestowed the title that is his name upon him. But it simply will not do for these men to get ahead of themselves. Their swelling confidence needs to be shattered. How can one go about it? This task is left to the mothers of these lads and is accomplished by the simple act of referring to the boy, not by his rather-great-sounding real name, but by a nickname which even Shakti Kapoor would feel ashamed to answer to.

There are five rules for creating nicknames, which need to be followed. They are:

1. Nicknames must have no connection to the real name. Orunabho cannot be called Orun. No, for that would be logical, and such things are anathema in the world of women. Instead he shall be called BHOMBOL. If possible, the nickname and real name must have no letters in common, but an ancient alphabet proves to be the constraining factor there.

2. Nicknames must be humiliating to the power infinity. If you are a tall strapping boy, with a flair for soccer, an easy charm and an endearing personality, then you shall be nicknamed - Khoka. And everytime, you have set your sights on a girl, and are on the verge of having the aforementioned lass eat out of your hand - your mother will arrive and pronounce loudly - "Khokon, cholo". The ensuing sea of giggles will drown out whatever confidence you had earned from that last winning free-kick.

3. A nickname must refer in some way to a suitably embarrassing incident in your childhood that you would give your arm and leg to forget. If it took you a little too long to shed your baby fat, then years of gymming will not rid you of the nomenclature Motka. If your face turned crimson when you cried as a toddler, you will be called Laltu. When you turn 40, your friends' children will call you Laltu Uncle. Even age will not earn you the right to be taken seriously thereafter.

4. Different members of the family will make up different nicknames each more embarrassing than the preceding one. If one member of the family calls you Piklu, then another will call you Pocha, and another will call you Ghoton. The humiliation multiplies.

5. You will always be introduced by your nickname until people forget you had a real name. Ranajoy might have taken on a gang of armed men single-handedly, but Tatai really didn't have a chance. After a point, Tatai will completely take over the beaten body of Ranajoy, weighed down by the pressure of a thousand taunts.

This strategy is surprisingly effective. Ask yourself - would you take Professor Boltu seriously? Or put much weight by the opinion of Dr Bubai? Or march into battle under the command of General Topa? The power of the nickname has scarred the psyche of Bengali men everywhere. It follows them like a monkey on their backs. That too, a monkey that was imposed on them by their own mothers, aunts and grandmothers

P.s. This was a fwd email and I do not know who can claim the rights as the author.

I could not agree with it more. I do differ in saying that I quite like it. I have a 22 character bhalo naam(good name) which is what gets put on passport and official documents and professional like. Then the retinue of nicknames starts and goes on. My mamar badi (mother’s side of the family) specializes in inventing weird nicknames. A beautiful mashi (aunt) is called jonglee (juglee), another one boka(dumb) which she certainly is not. I can at least trace the roots of Lokai, my nick name from that house to a distortion of word Lokkhi (godess laxmi). Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri’s book barely scratches the surface of a life led with so many identities. It is a wonder all Bengali kids do no grow up with Multiple personality disorders. It is however the prefect way to quell dissatisfaction among the immediate family...whose suggestion you did not consider important enough to tag to your child. All mashi, pishi, dadu, didun get a chance to stake claim to have given a name. Who cares for the child anyways? In fact I did not even realize anything was wrong with all this, till AS mentioned he has just one nickname. AS did not take kindly to this type of malarkey. He was not even familiar with the word daak naam. He felt the full force of it with my cousins. Kid of four pishis and a mama and kaku adds up to a quiet a lot of cousins. Add to that the fact that each one can stake claim to at least 3 daak naam. In the first few hours all was good. AS was introduced to everyone by their bhalo naam. Things started to muddying up for him when bhojo was called and indrajeet answered. Or gutu tried the do the work which was assigned to gola and babun. I am quite tempted to create a family tree to put him out of misery at family gatherings. If it is any consolation the weird name calling doesn’t stop at innocent kids. When you listen to Bengali food names like chenchra, chechki,dalna, kalia, ghonto, jhol, jhal, bhate crop up with regularity. Rather than being straight-laced into specific ingredients these are basically templates which can be extended. Something similar to best practices templates I keep hearing about in every other meeting at work! When I cooked kumro chechki this weekend, I realized it was a good recipe on cry out hearts out about all the names we have been called till date. I remember kumro checkhi as a breakfast item accompanied with porotha or ruti. I hated it. Well that was then. We all learn worth of various things as we go through life. Mine would be to appreciate the distinct aroma and taste of bangali food. It is a simple enough thing to make and can easily be fitted on for a weekday dinner or a weekend brunch.

Kumro chechki

Ingredients

500 gms - Yellow pumpkin

2tbsp – kalonji(onion seeds)

2-3 Green cillies

Coriander (for garnish)

Oil

Salt

Yes that is it..to believe it ..cook it Cut the pumpkin into thick matchstick shapes. The best and easiest way to do that is to have ½ inch (don’t get your ruler out!!) thick slices. Pile all the slices together and then cut then lengthwise.

Add 3 tbsp of oil in a wok. I had tried with mustard oil, that gave a pungent smell, so this time I tried with vegetable oil. Add the kalonji seeds when the oil warms up. Let them sputter along with a couple of sliced chillies to lend a bit of heat. Add the pumpkin pieces. Lightly mix the oil into the pieces. Cover and cook. Try to contain your enthusiasm when you are turning the pumpkin over. It will cook quickly enough. In the meanwhile we want it to keep its shape and not turn into a mash. It took me 15-20 mins at medium flame to get the whole lot cooked. Sprinkle salt. My granny used to say everything needs its opposite to enhance the taste. I use this advice with caution. Bengalis as mistakenly known for having a sweet tooth and there is a misplaced belief that all courses should follow suit. A pinch of sugar (mind you a pinch) to round it off then. The coriander is my addition to the dish. You can skip it altogether. This goes best with porotha as already mentioned. But you can go for rice, daal or roti.