Readers' Forum
“Parsi swearing is sweet”
Reading Berjis Desai’s article "Parsi swearing is sweet” (Bawa Musings, Parsiana, May 21, 2015) I could not help reminiscing of my younger days.
Whilst not even a shadow of a cuss word escaped my parents’ lips, my tender ears had been accosted by the full force of some of the choicest swear words that were prefixed with "ghel…”
I was one of the lucky ones to have been given the freedom to travel by bus alone from quite a young age. It was quite an adventure to board the B1 (or was it B2?) bus to Churchgate. I used to feel very grown up, independent and adventurous on these harmless expeditions wondering what the next moments would bring. There was always something exciting happening on the roads.
On my way by bus to Elphinstone College, to my great mortification, there would invariably be some old Parsi eccentric regaling the whole bus with the choicest of swear words one could imagine. And one of them was ghelsappo (idiot). The conductor and bus driver were often targeted, but they took it sportingly, performing a sort of impromptu skit for the benefit of the commuters.
I was not at all amused to see a descendant of the great Kayanian dynasty appear in this light. Some Parsi bawas would continue cursing while getting off the bus and did not stop even while walking on the road. They would shake an angry fist in the air and like the fiery prophets of old, rail against the government of the day, the city and the nation now bereft of the mai-baap (mother-father) protection of the British. Passersby would stop in their tracks and revel in a few moments of amused respite, egging on the bawas to greater heights of oratory. I used to feel terribly ashamed every time this tamasha would be enacted. "Woh paagal Parsi ko kya boléngé (what can we tell that mad Parsi)?” was the general, tolerant sentiment of the crowd. And so the paagal Parsi could swear at the government all he liked without any fear of being reprimanded.
But today, when we need such folk, fearless in their eccentricities, I realize with a pang that that generation has irrevocably faded away. ABAN MUKHERJI
mukherji.aban@gmail.com
Whilst not even a shadow of a cuss word escaped my parents’ lips, my tender ears had been accosted by the full force of some of the choicest swear words that were prefixed with "ghel…”
I was one of the lucky ones to have been given the freedom to travel by bus alone from quite a young age. It was quite an adventure to board the B1 (or was it B2?) bus to Churchgate. I used to feel very grown up, independent and adventurous on these harmless expeditions wondering what the next moments would bring. There was always something exciting happening on the roads.
On my way by bus to Elphinstone College, to my great mortification, there would invariably be some old Parsi eccentric regaling the whole bus with the choicest of swear words one could imagine. And one of them was ghelsappo (idiot). The conductor and bus driver were often targeted, but they took it sportingly, performing a sort of impromptu skit for the benefit of the commuters.
I was not at all amused to see a descendant of the great Kayanian dynasty appear in this light. Some Parsi bawas would continue cursing while getting off the bus and did not stop even while walking on the road. They would shake an angry fist in the air and like the fiery prophets of old, rail against the government of the day, the city and the nation now bereft of the mai-baap (mother-father) protection of the British. Passersby would stop in their tracks and revel in a few moments of amused respite, egging on the bawas to greater heights of oratory. I used to feel terribly ashamed every time this tamasha would be enacted. "Woh paagal Parsi ko kya boléngé (what can we tell that mad Parsi)?” was the general, tolerant sentiment of the crowd. And so the paagal Parsi could swear at the government all he liked without any fear of being reprimanded.
But today, when we need such folk, fearless in their eccentricities, I realize with a pang that that generation has irrevocably faded away. ABAN MUKHERJI
mukherji.aban@gmail.com
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