Sidhu Paaji ,
This might be somewhat delayed, but important nonetheless. It is in response to your recent statement that you — and, by implication, all Punjabis — have nothing in common with the culture of Tamil Nadu. Let me begin in the words of every English-spouting Tamil character actor of the ’70s: “What naansens you are talking!”
While we have put up with your incomprehensible couplets and meaningless idioms from the commentary box, plus the context-less cackle in various comedy shows, I say, now, enough is enough, sir.
Let me show you in this short piece the various deep, enduring connections between our two lovely states:
First and foremost, that wonderfully infectious dance, the bhangra , that epitomises Punjab’s robust, masculine culture, may have been invented by you all. But it owes its popularity to our Puratchi Thalaivar MGR (along with the co-ordinated assistance of one Ms L Vijayalakshmi), who made it world-famous half a century ago via the song ‘ Aadaludan Paadal ’. Please check, it is there in every history book. Till this day, no Tamil wedding is complete without Marimuthu mama and Pazhanivel periappa doing the bhangra to a Mika Singh medley.
Secondly, as you well know, many of our Punjabi brothers wear resplendent turbans. Have you ever beheld our own S Radhakrishnan, Rt Hon Srinivasa Sastri, Sir T Vijayaraghavacharya, CV Raman, and, above all, Nagasami Naidu, founder of Dindigul Thalapakatti restaurant? He has a turban in his name and logo, for god’s sake! You still say there is no similarity in our cultures? My suggestion is that you eat their naatu kozhi chops along with your words when you come here next.
Third, do the names Simran, Kajal Agarwal, Tamannah Bhatia, Rakul Preet Singh, Tapsee Pannu and Charmy Kaur mean anything to you, sir? They do to us. More than you can imagine. They are our precious sisters from Punjab (or thereabouts), revered by Tamil kudimagans of all ages and sizes. These lovely women, as we speak, sir, are valiantly learning to say ‘ aththaan’ or ‘ machi’ (depending on the script) in their own voices. While they have bought apartments and houses for themselves in Chennai, we have built temples for some of them.
We have heard the world speak of verdant Punjab, sir. We totally agree. We have seen it in many movies, most of them featuring the late Amrish Puri running around maniacally, shouting, “Simran, Simran”, and throwing grain at bewildered pigeons. In which part of Punjab do you think many of these movies were shot? Pollachi ! Don’t believe me? Contact Priyadarshan, that lovely Malayali who re-imagined Punjab in Tamil Nadu at half the price.
Let us come to names. Listen to this famous folk tale. Long ago, Punjabi folks were suffering from acute hair loss. An enterprising Tamilian went to Punjab and sold them hair oil based on a family recipe. Voilà, all their hair problems were solved immediately. And, as a mark of gratitude, the Punjabis gave him the name Punjab-e-Keshan , meaning the man who restored Punjab’s hair. And, today, that name has evolved to become Panchapakesan, a popular name in Tamil Nadu.
I request you, sir, from now on, to peruse our history books before you make hasty comments about our lovely cultures which are so inextricably intertwined.
Krishna Shastri Devulapalli is a satirist. He has written four books, and edited an anthology.
