Facepalm

I got myself a tattoo the other day. I had wanted one for a long time. But the elation soon gave way to anxiety. I had to break the news to my parents. Since I knew they would react badly, the only question was ‘how much’. They would probably sound dejected at the cost and aesthetics involved. It was after all a collision of thoughts and culture. So with much apprehension I called up Maa.

“Hello, dupure ki kheli?”(What did you have for lunch?)

It was 4:30 in the evening. Maa was on the line.

“Maa ami ekta tattoo koriyechi. Dragon-er”(Maa I have got myself a tattoo; of a dragon)

“Tattoo?Dragon?Chinese? tar mane tui lunch-e byang ar poka kheyechis??chi chi.”(that means you have had insects and frogs for lunch?)

Trust mom to correlate a tattoo with a popular legend of Chinese eating habits.

“Naa maa, poka keno khabo?Ami sudhu ekta tattoo koriyechi,” my voice rose in irritation.(No, why should I eat insects? I only got myself a tattoo)

“Tui barite chole aay ekkhoni. Tui baire giye ucchone gechis. Poka khachchis,china-der sathe ghure berachhis.”(You come back home right now. You have thrown yourself over to the dogs. You are roaming about with Chinese people!)

And she hung up.

Baby_Facepalm_Poster_by_Nianden

…If you are a Bong and you are talking to your mom, she doesn’t care  what you do and which part of the World you are in, as long as you can rattle off a list of Bengali dishes that you are supposed to have for a meal. You are also supposed to ensure that concerned cooks make it exactly like it is done back home. Nothing else matters.

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