Bhai phonta

It is always nice to return to Kolkata. It’s nicer if the month is November. The weather is magical during the four months of winter here. The clear blue sky and the mild chill in the air … Plus, friends and close relations who are parts of oneself.

Last night, we went to my sister’s home for a family festival called bhai phonta. In Bangla, bhai means brother and phonta means dot. However, my attempts to translate the phrase into English produces a rather ridiculous string of words, every time. So, I would just try to describe what this function is all about. (I am sure many of you can produce a lovely translation of bhai-phonta in English. Please share it with me. I will be happy to steal your words.)

In the function, the sister puts a tilak on her brothers’ forehead and chants a short mantra to ward off evils lurking for them in dark alleys and other such perilous places. The precise mantra varies depending on what district of Bengal the family originally came from, but these six lines – I believe – are common to all. These are also the most touching lines I have ever heard, and have been fortunate to hear almost every year since I was little.

স্বর্গে হুলুস্থুল, মর্ত্যে জোকার
না যাইও ভাই যম দুয়ার।
যম দুয়ারে দিয়ে কাঁটা
বোনে দেয় ভাইরে ফোঁটা।
যমুনায় দেয় যমরে ফোঁটা
আমি দেই আমার ভাইরে ফোঁটা।

There’s great commotion in heaven
And through the world ululations spread.
Please brother, never go to the land of the dead.
I bar your entry to the Kingdom of Yama.
Saying this, I put a dot on your forehead.
Yamuna puts a dot on Yama’s forehead,
And I put one on my brother’s

Yama, as you know, is the king of the world below, where everyone of us has to go for their records to be checked by a chap called Chitragupta, who is endowed with infinite memory, or as our Hindu revivalist friends would love to claim, the first super computer. Anyway, once your records are put before him, Yama takes a call on whether you could move on to heaven, or serve your time in the nether land, being deep-fried in a cauldron for 5000 years, or hung upside down in company of poisonous snakes or ….

Yesterday my sister barred my entry to court of Yama. But what takes the cake is invoking Yama’s sister, Yamuna, in this highly optimistic business. Linguists tell us that that is how the term “emotional blackmail” originated.

Sorry about the digression. My sister and every other sister chants the mantra three times and with her ring finger, puts a dot with sandalwood paste on her sibling’s forehead. Curiously, she uses her left hand for younger bros, and the right for older ones.

Bhai phonta is different from rakhi of North India as it puts women on stronger ground. While in rakhi, the sister ties a rakhi on the forearm of the brother to renew a bond that will protect her, in bhai phonta, she is in the driver’s seat. It is she who takes on the responsibility of protecting her bros, although not directly, but by invoking the good offices of supernatural powers.

Before I wrap up, a significant difference between English and our Indian languages is that our languages don’t have a word for “cousin”. For us, cousins are not gender-neutral; they are either sisters or brothers. Last night, my sister invited, besides me, the only other male cousin of hers who is in town.

As I write this, I recall my sisters who I might not meet for years, but who I am sure – given a chance – would stop me from getting into the Kingdom of Yama.

Keep well, dear sisters, all of you.

10 Nov 2018