Culture Fest

I have utmost respect for everything Bengali and everything European, which of course includes the English Language. Everything in between, I do not quite care for. This? seems a little weird to me. Now, basically being Indian calls for routine interfacing with innumerable renditions of what we call culture. We even do it subconsciously. Sometimes we aren’t even aware of the fact that we are doing something pertaining to some kind of manifestation of our culture, unique only to us.

That been said, I find it difficult to educate myself of the myriads of facets of the Indian culture. With 25 different officially acclaimed languages in a country with 28 different administrative states – music, literature, philosophy, spirituality, intellectual politics, dance, theatre and a plethora of other aspects of culture assume new meaning and have evolved rapidly to form a tight knit interweave of pure talent. But it is difficult to catch up. There is so much that I ought to know as an Indian, but that? does not seem to be happening. I wonder if this is natural or sheer disinterest on my part. However, I have immense respect for all the cultural glory my country boasts, and I do realize that perhaps not a lot of my skinny-jeans-clad peers share my feeling from underneath the innumerable cakes of foundation that adorn their ‘personalities’. Well, I digress, and I shall concentrate on them some other fateful day, keeping in mind the integrity of this attempt of mine at being subtle.

Coming back to Bengali, I have grown to love my mother-tongue much more than I ever thought I would. It feels comfortable and homey. Those are the only words that I could truly define my observation through. Ever come across people who think it is cool to speak with a forced accent even in their own language after having stayed abroad for just like a year? Yeah, I would be very rich if I got paid every time I had the urge to kick them in their shins. But again, I digress.

The native geographic extent of Bengali

Image from: Wikipedia

Every time I come across a blogger from Calcutta, or someone whose tagline contains some poorly translated tell-tale Bengali phrase, I am more than itchy to straight away bookmark the page, without even having gone through its contents. I cannot resist reading a blog by a Bengali, because it will contain those familiar anecdotes and ‘smokey’ college stories. Even though I never went to college in Calcutta, a part of me as good as goes to one. Now that I am away from home and the book stalls of College Street, I realize there is something intuitive about loving the place that one has lived in for such a long period of time.

For years I have been drawn to Bengali literature, I learnt Bengali for 13 years, and now - after those painstaking years of trying to impress my Bengali Teacher through my ‘impeccable’ essay writing skills, it does sound like something. My mother is a pro in Rabindrasangeet, and quite naturally I learnt to love them beyond she ever realized.

What European culture does to me is surreal and dramatic. It makes me feels things that I knew existed, but never felt through my senses. When I see the gothic churches of France, or listen to the operatic renditions of love, witness the uncanny similarities of pagan rites with some Indian practices, listen to the Nocturne in F by Chopin, or simply come across a photograph of the Piazza del Duomo in Milan or an image of an 18^th century bagpiper in his royal kilt, I suddenly realize that I could have been a much different person if I would have been born amidst all of this.

Piazza del Duomo
Photo from: Wikipedia

Well, this post could go on for ages, and I could talk incessantly and induce a deep slumber comparable to the much dreaded post-lunch lethargy in whoever would be kind enough to listen. My fascinations are varied and often oddly conspicuous in their innate child-like properties.

This post may have been extremely random in the clichéd collection of information and the odd usage of language. But sometimes, we just come across situations when we truly fall short of words, don’t we? There are some things that rather be simple and naïve, we then relate better to them.

Tell me if that makes sense to you.