Punjabi by nature | Hate can go to hell !
I assume most of you would have cast your vote on Saturday, and voted well. Well, nothing much you can do now, even if you haven’t, or suddenly realised that you could have voted differently.punjab Updated: Feb 06, 2017 11:13 IST
I assume most of you would have cast your vote on Saturday, and voted well. Well, nothing much you can do now, even if you haven’t, or suddenly realised that you could have voted differently.
Since polling is now behind us, and it’s a Sunday, why not talk about some proverbial Punjabi sense of humor.
Obviously, this space can’t match up to the craziness of a Mann, Ghuggi or a Sidhu, which is a tall order to comply with, but no harm in giving it a shot.
By the way, isn’t it sad that to politics Punjab might lose grass-root satirists and comedians? Each one to their own, but it’s not a great feeling when you know the idiom ‘Politics is the last refuge of a comedian’ has its origin in Punjab.
Having said that let’s return to our Sunday topic and rely on the day-to-day humour we encounter, or the one that passes on as the family loom. I can’t stop laughing, whenever my father’s maternal uncle shares a story or two about my grandfather’s Plymouth (American) car. There are much more, but these two stand out.
Since he was a man of philanthropy, progressive agriculture and tall stature in his area (Hoshiarpur), all political parties would approach him for his support.
He didn’t’ belong to any party but was a keen Congressman at heart, which, expectedly would invite banter from the opposite camp. One such repartee by the Akalis was about his car.
They could be heard saying on the loudspeaker, “This Chhauni waley sardar’s car in the morning lugs pathey (pathey), in the evening ullu dey phatey (a Punjabi expletive for idiots).”
Great wit, I thought, which sadly has been taken over by anger, and hatred, especially the kind on social media. The other folklore about his car was its continuous run with a workshop. So frequently had it to be taken to the repair shop that the mechanic had to finally plead to my grandfather to buy a new car. “Sardarji, the whole Hoshiarpur is gossiping that I have built mynewhouseoutthe money I earned by repairing your gaddi.”
My father and his younger brother, at times, narrate memorable stories and one of them is about a Nihang Sahib who would live in our out-house. A pious man, he had his allegiance to a nearby Nihang dera. For his stay, he would diligently do his daily kirt but would also profusely enjoy his daily dose of cannabis or the Sukha.
On being advised by my grandfather that marijuana consumption locked the brain, Gianiji’s reply was a classic onliner.
‘Sardar Sahib, if you can use such a big padlock to keep your toori (chopped wheat straw) secure, the brain is a much more precious thing. It must always be kept under lock and key.”
Folks, don’t take the reply seriously, as it is very injurious to health.
Then there is this story of one of our dogs Ladoo keeping Giani Zail Singh away from his morning ablutions. As the story goes, Giani Zail Singh had contested one election from Hoshiarpur constituency.
During the canvassing, he had stayed a couple of nights at our house, but opted to sleep in the open.
I will leave the rest to the imagination, as Ladoo would growl each time Giani ji tried put his foot down to get down from the charpoy.
The joke in our house is: when Ladoo held a chief minister hostage.
Punjab on the 11th March will elect a new government. Whoever gets elected, I hope it creates an atmosphere which provides our progeny with happy stories and memories.
Hate can go to hell.