Skip to main content

Incestuously Yours


The term of endearment that Keralite women use, to call their husbands, is incestuous in nature. Chetta (brother) is at once seductive and respectful and is the most accepted honorific for the male spouse.

Interestingly this term has now crossed the threshold of the public domain. And increasingly in the office space, the very mallu “Chetta” has replaced the colonial term for boss: “Sir”.

Now strapped within the confines of a full time job, I am expected to address my boss as Chetta. The connotations are ludicrous and I cannot bring myself to go beyond the name or the sir business. Call it the colonial hangover if you must.

Ah! but someday in the near future, I visualize myself, picking up enough guts to put that very mallu honorific in place, and address my boss as chetta.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Book Review: An Autobiography Of A Sex Worker by Nalini Jameela

I am 51 years old. And I would like to continue to be a sex worker.” This is how the candid and defiant opening statement in Nalini Jameela’s autobiography in Malayalam, Oru Lymgika-thozhilaliyude Atmakadha, goes. It at once throws a challenge at society’s double standards — harsh on prostitutes and soft on the clients. Nalini Jameela, who is the coordinator of the Kerala Sex Workers’ Forum, reveals her sordid story with no trace of compunction. Nalini was a 24-year-old widow when she entered the profession to feed her two children. At that time she did not think about the repercussions of her act. She writes, “I was earning Rs 4.50 at a tile factory near Trissur. My mother-in-law served me with an ultimatum to either give her five rupees a day to look after my children or leave the house. I recounted my woes to a friend, who introduced me to Rosechechi. Rosechechi promised me Rs 50 if I spent time with a man. The first thought that came to my mind was that my children would be looked...

SnooTea: Just My Style

(Photographs by Minu Ittyipe) It began on a lark to spiff up my morning cuppa. Oh well, I just wanted a change from what I had been drinking all my life. I am not complaining about the faithful brew that I stir up with tea dust, it does merrily improve with two extra spoonfuls of sugar but I was just plain bored with the regular. My concept of a cup of tea was corralled in the traditional Indian style- coppery coloured liquid topped with plenty of milk and sugar but now there was in me this undeniable thirst for a more delicate bouquet. Tranquilitea, Coonoor Curiously, though grown in our own backyard, few of us have heard of the orthodox leaf tea, forget the Silver Tips, Golden Tips and the White Tea etc.. that quietly find their way to the export market. To make a foray into this relatively unknown terrain, I headed for Tranquilitea, a tea lounge in the Nilgiris, for a cup of “Tippy” tea. On a sober note, you are cautioned not to confuse “Tippy” with the more commonplace “Tipsy” for...

How Big Is Arundhati Roy's Conscience?

The Kaavya Vishwanathan episode : a young Harvard student writes a book called How Opal Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got a Life and it gets published by Little, Brown. The writer is accused of plagiarizing from Megan McCafferty’s book. Kaavy apologizes and her books are pulled off the shelves. It all reminds me of when in 2001, I compared Arundhati Roy’s book The God of Small Things to “ To Kill a Mocking Bird’’ (published by The New Indian Express) and later in 2003 compared Roy’s book to Ulysses by James Joyce (published in the Vijay Times). There are marked similarities but it didn’t bother Roy’s big and magnanimous conscience –even a whisker. This is not to bash Roy. I had heard about Roy a long time ago, in 1984, when she was a little Ms. Nobody. And from then on admired her guts and loved her style. Five of my friends had spent years of study under Mrs. Roy, Susie's mother in the school called Corpus Christi. And they extolled her "virtues'' on and on ...