Going to Grandpa’s for the weekend has never been a part of our lives. After all, it is

rather difficult to traverse ten thousand miles in one week- end. During our one year stay in Calcutta, however, we were lost in a family forest.

In India, an aunt is never simply an aunt. She may be your mother’s sister, in which case she is your mashi. She may be your father’s sister, in which case she is your pishi. She could be your father’s older brother’s wife, in which case she-is your geti. Or she could be your father’s younger brother’s wife, and thus your kabi.

On the other hand, she may be your mother’s brother’s wife, your manu. However, instead, she may be your mother’s father’s older brother’s daughter — your getito mashi. What about your mother’s father’s ssister’s daughter?

Kustito pishi. And that is only the classification system for aunt.

Abroad Thoughts From Home

Needless, to say, I was rather confused. Being used to seeing a stray uncle once in six years, I was now running into an average of ten relatives per week — all of whom ex- pected me to remember them.

I was caught in a rather dif- ficult situation at my getito mashi’s house one day. Most of my maternal relatives had gathered there in memory of my getito mashi’s husband, who had died a week pre- viously.

One of my cousin’s intro- duced me to my getito mashi dada. (The latter simplified things by saying that his pa- ternal grandfather and my maternal grandfather were brothers.) He was talking to me in that warm older-brother manner that Calcuttans adopt with such ease, when we were joined by someone else.

“Do you remember me?’’ demanded the newcomer.

Under other circumstances, given his antagonistic, I would

‘have assumed that at some

By Kaberi Dasgupta time in the past I had done him an offence. Having considered the situation, however, I de- duced that he was probably a cousin of some sort.

**Vaguely,’’ I lied.

“‘Well, then, who am I?”’

I groped nervously through my memory as he condemn- ingly shook his head. Fortu- nately, my other cousin came to my aid.

‘*‘He is your getito mastito vaya.”’

“Oh. I see. I remember now.”’

But, cousin number two was not to be trifled with. ‘‘What do you mean ‘you see’? Who exactly am I1?’’

Either he. was having an identity crisis or he was bent embarassing me. Fortunately, cousin number one changed the topic. (I later learned that cousin number two had graced us with a twenty-minute visit eight years ago, during our last sabbatical in India. What a terrible memory I have.)

RULES

Look both ways before crossing the street

Travel in groups

Don’t go into strangers’ houses

Don’t eat treats until your parents check them

Then there was Vayar Fota Day. (All right, all right. I know that I am supposed to be writing in English.) Vayar Fota Day is the day when sisters bless their brothers (and brothers give their sisters pre- sents). The connotations of the terms brother and sister are, however, actually much mor far reaching than they ap- pear. You can in fact, declare anyone your brother or sister (it encourages platonic re- lationships).

. On the said day, we nego- tiated our way through Cal- cutta traffic for two hours (it was a five-mile drive) to my father’s younger sister’s place (you guessed it, my pishi’s flat. :

Thrown amidst my cousins’ cousins, I was soon prattling comfortably in Bengali. My sentences were undoubtedly punctuated by atrocious gram- matical errors, but I had been

in Calcutta long enough to |

realize that speaking to them

in English would inevitably categorize me as ‘‘person living in America’? (Canada and the United States are virtually considered one in India, too). We went to see a movie which I had no trouble understanding as the lines were all said twice; having seen the movie three times pre- viously, my pishi’s son tended’ to anticipate speeches aloud.

Of all my relatives, my favorite (and the one that I can unfailingly identify) is my kaku (my father’s younger brother). I first met him when I was seven — unfortu-— nately, it appears that in his mind, I have and will continue

to remain seven. I am gua- ranteed that any hairdo I can come up with will be com- pletely destroyed when he comes to visit: his hand never- leaves the top of my head.

And now, they are all ten thousand miles away again.

PANTHER VIEW

Friday's

9-10 — Ladies Liquor Special.

samco Bazaar

102 Kent St.

open evenings until 9pm

_ This Halloween ; 5 _ Thursday, November 13th: Biology Pub

Thursday, November 20th: Education Lip Sync Thursday, November 27th: Model U.N: Pub Thursday, December 4th: Engineer’s Pub ~

= Page 8