Don’t Call Unkaal

It has been two years studying in India and, until recently, I came to know one more thing about Indians. They don’t like (probably, may not be all) being “UNCLE.”

Back in my country, Bhutan, uncle is the most abused title given to almost all elderly masculine folks. Especially, those brought up in urban areas have habit of calling uncle to almost all man with whiskers or not. Women are known for gentleness and in Bhutan; they use the word uncle as part of their courtesy. However, this may not be applicable to all, but I am sure about an abundance usage of the word.  If we happen to be in Thimphu, you will see how Bhutanese use uncle lavishly.

“Uncle, Babesa,” calls a girl from Babesa to taxi driver.

“Uncle, Tashi is beating me,” complains Tashi’s playmate to his dad.

“Uncle, no discount?” asks a customer at shops.

“Uncle, doma?” approaches vendor at bus stations.

Similarly, in many occasions, uncle is an integral part of our everyday conversation. Owing to the dual materialistic nature of nature, aunty has been explored in same line. I know that words like ‘Acho’ and ‘Azhim’ do have good stand, but not to the extent of uncle and aunty.

It was on one of the Sundays where I happened to visit a shop in our local market. There were two girls visiting the same shop. As usual, those girls with their Bhutanese look already made my morning. North eastern part of India has girls of our look. They wanted to recharge their mobiles probably; they wanted to heat up their mobiles on that day calling whosoever.

“Uncle, Vodafone,” uttered the taller girl with recent made reddish hair. I could see how happy her hairs were to reflect gentle morning rays. While another one was busy taking out her pink purse. Her handbag was pink and when she took out her pink purse from it, it was beyond one’s doubt to deduce her favorite colour. She gave me pinkish smile which was something I liked about her conviviality.

“Bhaya, Airtel.” I said following them.  The man instantly worked for me unexpectedly. Those girls were earlier than me. I pressed my number and as and when I passed back his old mobile, I saw some graffiti behind him on the sky-blue wall. “Don’t call Unkaal.” I smiled to myself. Unfortunate girls didn’t see his warning. As I was making way out of the shop, another man came with an utterance of “Bhaya, Airtel.”

After that day, I started being conscientious in addressing people. I was curious to learn the common trend in the area, so I started listening cautiously to the words people around me use.

“Hey, big bro.,” say students from African nations to their seniors and elders.

“Dah, kaho?” say friends from Nepal and Darjeeling.

“Arai, Bhaya,” say friends from India.

By then I realized how Bhutanese would annoy my young friends. They have very good coverage of hairs. The world of fraternity seemed more appealing to people around me.