Intergalactic Intervention in the Bangladeshi Countryside

“তোমার চোইদ্দ গুষ্টি উদ্ধার করুম মিয়া! $%#$%^% … “, a stream of potent invectives sailed across the mustard field. The source of the invectives? Goni Mia. A gaunt and wizened figure of indeterminable age. His skin bronzed after toiling years in the fields.

The recipient? Moti Mia. From far, absolutely indistinguishable from Goni Mia. It makes sense, for they were brothers. The only thing that set the two apart was Goni Mia’s vain effort at sporting a beard — a few long strands of gray clung shamelessly to his chin.

“কি উদ্ধার করবি? দেইখা নিবো!”, Goni Mia piped back.

[ED: Forgive me, dear readers, for not translating the Bengali phrases into English. Colloquialisms, idioms, and slang can often be quite challenging to translate directly, especially when they are specific to a particular region or culture. They often rely on context, shared knowledge, or cultural references to convey their whole meaning. Suffice it to say that the siblings were engaging in a not-too-friendly discussion.]

Goni Mia: “You and what army?”
[ED: A reasonably successful attempt at finding an English English colloquialism]
Moti Mia: “Your dad’s army!”
Goni Mia: “A curse on your dad!”
Moti Mia: “Don’t take my father’s name in vain, you moron!”
“….”
[Silence]

It suddenly dawned on them that they possessed a common father. The time-tested Bengali insults that lovingly portray the virtues of one’s forefathers didn’t seem appropriate in this context.

The siblings have been going at it since early this morning. It was a beautiful Bangladeshi spring day. A mild breeze played a merry song in the bamboo groves.

Rice stalks danced.

Idyllic.

Tranquil.

A typical Bengali spring day.

Er..Um. Not quite, for I had forgotten the Mia Bhais. Despite the reason for their dispute having been long forgotten, the two siblings were still engaged in the exchange of vituperative insults.

Moti Mia: “ *** ”
Goni Mia: “ *** ”
Moti Mia: “ *** ”
Goni Mia: “ *** ”
Moti Mia: “ *** ”
Goni Mia: “ *** ”

[ED: Unprintables deleted]

Moti Mia picked up a piece of dried cow dung and flung it at Goni Mia. Goni Mia picked up a piece of dried cow dung and flung it at Moti Mia.

“VRRRRRRRR ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
PHSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssssss………………”

Sounds resembling a jet plane abruptly stopped this non-verbal exchange of vituperations. Suddenly, a saucer-shaped object appeared out of the sky and landed in the mustard field between the two Mia Bhais. To us literate sophisticates, the appearance of an obviously alien spacecraft would have been cause for some apprehension. Our two rural protagonists were, however, completely nonchalant.

Moti Mia: “Another visitor from town? শহর থাইকা কেডা আইলো?”
Goni Mia: “Is it election time? ইলেকশন টিলেকশন নাকি?”
Moti Mia: “Probably. That’s when we get townies. হ্যাঁ হইতে পারে!”
Goni Mia: “Maybe there’s been a flood somewhere. It might be relief goods!! আবার বন্যা হইসে? রিলিফ মাল হইতে পারে!!!”
Moti Mia: “I would have heard, you moron! আমি সশুইনতামনা বোকা কোথাকার!”
Goni Mia: “Don’t call me a moron. Donkey! আমারে বোকা কও কেন, গাধা!!”

Moti Mia: “”তোমার চোইদ্দ গুষ্টি উদ্ধার করুম মিয়া! $#%%$”
Goni Mia: “কি উদ্ধার করবি? দেইখা নিবো! $#%$$”

During the course of the discourse, a biped emerged from the saucer. He was encased in a silvery outer garment that we, sophisticates, would have instantly recognized as a spacesuit. The alien creature looked quite resplendent.

“Please stop!” urged the Resplendent Alien, “Why do you fight so?”
Moti Mia: “Huh! What is it to you? And, who are you?”
The Resplendent Alien: “I am Akbar the Great”.

[ED: Insufficient linguistic training caused the alien to mistranslate his name in Bengali]

Goni Mia: “Yeah, right! And I am the Son of Sam!”

Goni Mia had never heard of Sam Berkowitz, but his Bengali retort can only be ideally conveyed in this fashion.

The Resplendent Alien, hereafter referred to as Akbar, was quite nonplussed. He hadn’t expected such disrespectful retorts. Akbar had thought his mission would be short and easy. He needed an A+ in PP405 to graduate with a sufficiently high GPA to enter the Universal Bureaucracy at the entry-level level.

[ED:
PP405: Planetary Pacification.
A project-oriented course in bringing peace to primitive planets. 3 credit hours. Grade dependent on the population or the level of anarchy prevailing on the pacified planet.]

It was only the other day that Gzzyvgfte returned triumphant from pacifying a type A planet that was in the throes of a global war. Not only did Gzzyvgfte receive an A+, but he also received three job offers even before his graduation.

Akbar tried again.

Akbar: “You should not fight! You must make peace with
each other. Fighting is an evil thing!”
Moti Mia: “You bloody townies are all the same!”
Goni Mia: “You live in big houses with many servants!”
Moti Mia: “You have water in pipes. And cars and big shops”
Goni Mia: “You are never hungry. And then one day, you come out to..”
Moti Mia: “.. the villages, and tell us how to run our lives.”
Goni Mia: “Go back to your $%&& Dhaka!”

Akbar was at a total loss. He had visions of being treated by the natives like a god. And here, he could not pacify even two puny specimens of the human species.

He tried again.

Akbar: “Stop fighting, or else…”
Moti Mia: “Or else what? You will kill us?”
Goni Mia: “Go ahead, make my day! Life would be so much easier if I were dead.”
Moti Mia: “Go back to your *&^&* Dhaka!”

Akbar was at the end of his tether. He stood ruminating for a while. The Mia Bhais had resumed their interrupted discourse.

Moti Mia: “ *** ”
Goni Mia: “ *** ”

Moti Mia: “”তোমার চোইদ্দ গুষ্টি উদ্ধার করুম মিয়া! $#%%$”
Goni Mia: “কি উদ্ধার করবি? দেইখা নিবো! $#%$$”

Akbar had had enough. He quietly headed back to his spaceship. There was a Type A planet in the Jkythfi Sector that needed pacification. It hadn’t yet reached the low depths that Earth has, but the situation was grave enough to warrant an A+.

“VRRRRRRRR ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
PHSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssssss………………”

Akbar’s spaceship disappeared into the blue sky.

It was a beautiful Bangladeshi spring day. A mild breeze played a merry song in the bamboo groves.

Rice stalks danced.

Idyllic.

Tranquil.

Er. Um. Not quite.

Moti Mia: “”তোমার চোইদ্দ গুষ্টি উদ্ধার করুম মিয়া! $#%%$”
Goni Mia: “কি উদ্ধার করবি? দেইখা নিবো! $#%$$”