One of the joys of living in this multi-cultural, multi-linguistic, multi-cuisine, in fact multi-pretty-much-everything country of ours, is the unending stream of ethnic jokes that entertains us so frequently. Yes, ethnic jokes. This may sound utterly politically incorrect, but, hand on heart, haven’t we all chortled with uninhibited mirth at that staple of all joke parties, the Sardar Joke? Ever since our childhood, we have been treated to Santa Singh – Banta Singh gags that had us rolling about with uncontrollable mirth. And let’s face it, wasn’t one of the first jokes that we ourselves told others a Sardar joke, possibly about Milkha Singh, or some kin of his? As we stammered through the three line joke, we often began to giggle uncontrollably even before we could get to the punch line.

Indeed, Sardar Jokes are so much a part of our comic landscape that we forget that the Singhs are a community too. And yes, they are a highly respected, hardworking, good looking lot, whose contributions to the development of this country in all kinds of fields can be overlooked only at our own peril. So why does the country love these Santa-Banta jokes so much that now there are also websites devoted to them? One can also subscribe to these jokes on one’s cell, receiving one daily. Obviously there is a feeling that starting the day with a laugh along with these lovable, if mythical creatures, puts us all in a good enough humour to face the rigours of a working day with equanimity.

The thing about these Sardar jokes is that no Sardar has ever been known to take umbrage about them. In fact, many Sardars themselves relate these with the greatest delight. The most famous Sardar-joke-teller is probably Khushwant Singh, whose numerous Joke Books are full of them. Indeed, he relishes the role of raconteur, and is the first to laugh good naturedly at himself, and his community.

And then there is Jaspal Bhatti, whose very face brings a smile to ours. Though not a teller of Sardar Jokes per se, he is not above poking gentle fun at his own kinsmen also.

These days, young and old alike move around the country much more than they ever did before. They meet people from all ethnic, linguistic, and cultural groups. They count among their good friends men and women from all over the country. Naturally, all the little foibles of each linguistic group are extremely well known to them. And since youth, especially, is nothing if not irreverent, it is a given that much good natured ribbing and teasing should take place.

The thing is, in these scenarios, no offence is meant. The teaser will take it all in good spirit if the teased person retaliates with equal, or more, irreverence. The political incorrectness of calling a Bangla person a roshogolla with exaggerated emphasis on the “Sh” sound is offset by the friendly affection with which it is said.

Of course there is an invisible, but definitely present barrier, a point beyond which the ethnic joke ceases to be funny, and becomes offensive. Several Bollywood films of the sixties and seventies, for instance, had portrayals of the “South of the Vindhya” gentlemen and ladies that were borderline offensive. Indeed, the “Southie” in many films was a stock comic character, sometimes just by virtue of being one. Those portrayals are definitely offensive to our modern sensibilities. But the current crops of jokes about South Indians, especially about their geekiness, certainly have nothing offensive about them in their humour. And to the credit of the Southerners, one never hears of them being up in arms against some perceived insults. They have been, for the most part, mature enough to laugh at these jokes, themselves.

There are any number of regional jokes that land up in our inboxes to lighten up our day. So, for instance, “Why did the Gujju think the film Gandhi was about a woman?” “Because Be(h)n (Kingsley) was in it.” “What is a communist Sindhi called?” “Lalwani” “What are the degrees of egoism in Tamil Nadu?” “I, Iyer, Iyengar.” In any case, things such as the propensity of South Indians to over-oil their hair are always pointed out with a certain amount of glee. No harm meant, all in good fun, here.

Jokes of this kind can only sprout if the community one is joking about is known to others. Till the other day, the Assamese were hardly visible outside this region. This has now been largely rectified, with names such as Barua and Kalita quite commonly heard all over the country, especially the metro cities.

Actually, it is seen that all too often, youths from our region, especially those who are insecure about themselves and their identities, tend to take offence when somebody ribs them good-naturedly about their ethnicity. One is not talking of offensive stuff here, obviously. Still, it is a fact that many of us show signs of a too-thin-skin when people tease us about our accents, for instance. Or, indeed, the chinkiness of our eyes. Does it really matter if a friend calls you “Chinky”, if she herself is generally known as “Idli”, because she is from Chennai?

A symptom of this over-sensitivity was that, till the other day, there were no “Assamese jokes” worth speaking of. The internet is crawling with jokes about many communities, many of them, one suspects, put up by the people of those communities themselves. Certainly, one can imagine them enjoying those gentle jokes about their food habits and pronunciations. But there were never any jokes about the Assamese, even though the Assamese diaspora is now scattered all over the globe.

Thankfully, this is now gradually changing. It is a sign of the growing maturity, sophistication and confidence of our people, especially our youths, that at last there are Assamese jokes doing the rounds of parties, and are on the internet. To the standard Sardar, Gujju, Marwari, Bangla jokes have been added Assamese ones, mostly to do with our pronunciations. Our fumbles with Hindi pronunciation have always been hilarious, but they were never actually codified into a proper joke before. This shows, as nothing else does, that the rest of our countrymen now know about us. No longer are we the almost-invisible “forest dweller” type living in the back of beyond in popular perception that we were till a generation or so ago.

One of the most popular “Assamese jokes” that surfaces at many parties across the country goes like this:

Two Assamese friends go to a restaurant in Delhi and order two cups of tea.

“Do sah lao.” The waiter brings two dosas. After much confusion, they accept the dosa and ask for two spoons.

“Ok, Ok, Do samos lao.”

So the waiter brings two samosas this time.

Nice, isn’t it? And quite likely to be true, too!

This propensity of ours to convert the “Ch” sound routinely to “S” is now almost as famous as is that of the Bangla person’s to convert the “S” sound into a “Sh” one. The way we say Silly Sicken in a Sinese Restaurant provokes much hilarity. And why not? It’s all in good fun.

All Things Considered, let’s say Cheers to these developments. Or should that be Seers?

MITRA PHUKAN