MIND YOUR LANGUAGE  By Barry O' Brien

There were no  charpokas, peepreys or haatis on  the streets Wednesday
before last.  Except for  a few mamas  and mastaans,  almost everybody
stayed  home  because  it  was  a  hartal.  Bouncy  break-dancers  and
slow-moving langras also had a rest day. Near Howrah and other vantage
entry points, CITU sergeants saw to  it that local trains could get no
further.  Decibel levels  fell drastically, due to the  absence of the
rattle  of   Calcutta's  bone-shakers  and  the   barking  of  minibus
conductors. There  were no cries  of "Aastey ladies",  "Hilakey Chalo"
and "Electrikey Chalao".  If you've lost me and  you're reaching for a
Calictionary,  stay  right where  you  are,  you'll  find it  on  this
page. Calcuttans on the street, more  than any other city, have a term
or a  phrase of their own  for everything under its  scorching sun. No
city can  match it for orginality  and spontaneity when you  talk of a
roadside lexicon.   No other citizen  in the world has  the entensity,
the assion  and the sense of  humour that the Calcuttan  has. With his
turn of  phrase he  is an  Oscar Wilde, Bernard  Shaw and  Sukumar Ray
rolled into one ?  Expressive,  Explosive and alway Exclusive. For the
uninitiated Calcuttan,  here's a handy thesaurus  of innovative street
jargon;  for  the  hardcore  Calcuttan,  it could  serve  as  a  ready
reckoner.

Mama policeman:
  Now you know why you need to stay away from your "Mamr-bari"!

Peepreys:
  auto-rickshaws who are multiplying in hundreds and 
  bugging one and all

Charpokas:
  Maruti 800s

Matchbox:
  Calcutta's first generation mini-buses that left you
  hunchbacked and stiff-necked.

Haati:
  double-decker buses with a 'trunk' in which the driver sits; an
  almost extinct species

Langras:
  three-legged tempos that limp along and handicap other drivers.

Shahi Minars:
  speedbreakers. Erecting them has become a trend, generally after
  someone has been killed on the spot.

Electikey  Chalao:
  a bus conductor's coded jargon, telling his driver to speed-break-
  speed-break in order to jerk passengers further in, since they are 
  all crowding near the entrance.

Hechkee tulchen kano:
  a passenger's retort to the above.

Dada, Fevicol naa ordinary?:
  question asked by a 'standing commuter'(usually on a local train) to a
  'sitting' one, wanting to know how far he is going.  If the answer is
  'ordinary', the 'standing' commuter will stay right there waiting to
  pounce on his seat; if the answer is "fevicol", he will move away to
  try his luck with another passenger.

Dada, kee khelchen? Test naa One day:
  The bus equivalent of above.

Dada, istri korey dilen?:
  what you tell a passenger who in his hurry to get off, 
  stamps hard on your toes.

Dada, je akebarey daak-ticket hoye shetey galen:
  sarcastic comment targeting Romeos who refuse to budge from the
  vicinity of the ladies seats, invariably getting 'stuck', just like a
  stamp on an envelope

Sandow maashi:
  a tongue-in-cheek conductor's term describing a not-so-young lady
  wearing a sleeveless blouse, a la Govinda.

Half-ladies :
  a skinny, boyish girl in jeans and T-shirt; the conductor 
  is in a dilemma!

Dadar kee double ticket naa kee:
  a passenger's caustic remark to a grossly overweight fellow passenger
  who is hogging the seat.

Dada, kon ration-er chaal khaan:
  this is another version of the rude comment above.

Aierey, forsha korey dilo:
  a helpless pickpocket victim's exasperated exclamation.

Dada, engine-er tuning-ta thik karaan:
  below-the-belt advice to a fellow passenger who is snoring loud enough
  to drive the pigs to market.

Kaar badi-tey aaj moolor char-chari ranna hoyechey, dada:
  a subtle comment directed to whom it may concern, in a crowded bus,
  post a 'sudden whiff in the air