As if it wasn’t enough having the Bengalis divided by a dozen fault lines, a new fissure threatens to crack open the state’s landscape. The Ghoti-Bangal rivalry, the Mohun Bagan-East Bengal feud, the ilish-bhetki-papda one-upmanship, and the mustard oil versus odourless oil debate are legendary, but the mother of all tremors, which stands poised to rip the Bengali community, is West Bengal going for a name-change.
The reasons presented for the renaming range from the baffling to the ludicrous. Going by the alphabetical order, Mamata Banerjee’s men get to deliver their speeches in Parliament only at the end of a list of 29 states and by then the audience is either nodding with fatigue (and boredom?) or itching to visit the loo. All that oratory fire and brimstone going down the drain, should the state allow for such callous wastage? Another political heavyweight apparently believes that it is only by changing the name to the vernacular can the cultural heritage of the state be preserved. A major section of the Bengali community begs to differ. The best artistes and writers from the state—Rabindranath Tagore, Jamini Roy, Satyajit Ray to name a few—defined the cultural scenario wonderfully well when the state still went by the good old name of West Bengal. With no major thinkers having emerged in the past few decades, are the change-makers seeking a miracle whereby an intellectual giant may magically rise with the change in name? Do they, by some skewed reasoning, equate renaming with resurrection, culturally?
On the flip side, the renaming will result in enormous job opportunities. Naam rakshaks inspired by gau rakshaks will go around ensuring that all sign boards and personal documents carry the new name, or else. If anyone utters the legally extinct ‘WB’ in their conversation, the vigilante will make them pay dearly. Hefty fines will be imposed by the friendly neighbourhood extortionist for wrong usage of the name any time, any place. Tollywood will have to revise its scripts to include the new name or else be penalised. An entire industry will spring up to safeguard the sanctity of the new name and joblessness will be a thing of the past.
A certain elderly gentleman living in central Kolkata has stopped travelling too far from home, his fear of collapsing flyovers having reached phobic proportions. Another lady professor has enrolled for Tai Chi classes in the hope that they will help her navigate Kolkata’s potholes more nimbly. A dozen civic problems lie begging to be addressed even as the powers that be get ready to spend huge amounts of time, money and energy in amending the Constitution for the big change. What’s in a name really one might ask, Paschimbangla, Banga Bhumi, Banga Pradesh, Bangla, Bong, Bing, Bang... anything.
Bangla is the name for a local liquour and thus unsuitable, say naysayers, and so whittling down the list, West Bengal very likely will be simply Bengal in English and Banga in Bengali, which the Bengali bhadralok/bhadramahila will pronounce as Bongo. Bongo? A noble state reduced to a percussion instrument? The head pounds rhythmically at the thought. But given the din and ruckus surrounding the issue, a hollow item capable of deafening noise is probably best suited for the occasion.
Kankana Basu is a Mumbai-based writer, author and illustrator
kankanabasu@hotmail.com
