Perhaps no regional language is farther from Bangla than the Chittagong dialect. It is so different from Bangla that linguists have often wondered whether it originated from a language other than Bangla. But Dr. Enamul Haq has documented that Chittagonian dialect has derived from Bangla, though in much deviated form. Non-Chittagonians find this dialect very difficult to follow, and they fret about the intonation, saying that when they hear the dialect it seems to them as if somebody is shaking a can full of marbles close to their ears. Sometimes they resent everything Chittagonian because of the strange dialect.

Chittagonians, in their turn, feel comfortable with their dialect and don't like to speak in Bangla unless they are forced to, though educated middle-class by and large now speaks in Bangla, and does try to speak it without the local accent. Majority of the Chittagonians are shy about speaking in Bangla because the gap between the native register and the dialect is so wide that speaking in Bangla is like learning a new language. Chittagonians, therefore, speak Bangla with the accent of the dialect. Actually people from other districts speak with accents too, but their dialects being closer to Bangla in speech patterns, the oddities do not sound unpleasant. But does Chittagonian dialect sound unpleasant? As any conscious person knows no dialect can be either all sweet or all sour. It is a given thing, just a reality, and so is the Chittagonian dialect. So people with

ears for fresh sounds find a rich music in the Chittagonian dialect too.

It is said that the speech pattern in an area changes every ten miles. The Chittagonian dialect is not spoken the same way everywhere, and, in fact, four major variations of the dialect may be noticed. As Chittagong lies from north to south like a mango leaf, the dialect likewise varies from north to south. In the north, that is the Mirersarai-Sitakundu range, people speak with a strong Noakhalian tilt for which they are often teased as Noakhalians. Non-Chittagonians often complaint that Chittagonians indiscriminately consider all people from outside Chittagong as Noakhalians. The people of Hathazari and Fatikchhari speak the dialect with short aspirated accents while people in the south, in Cox's Bazar and Teknaf, speak with a slightly lingering deflection. People who are original domiciles of the city have a distinct pronunciation mode, which sounds funny to other Chittagonians, as they utter 's' as 's' and not as 'sh'. For example, they would say 'Subidha' in place of 'Shubidha' which means advantage. For the phrase, 'until now' the Chittagonians in general say, 'ehono', but they would say, 'ebo'. In these various ways they provide a lot of fun to others.

The ancient city dwellers are mainly to be found in Patherghata, Firingee Bazar and Enayet Bazar. In the past, many families in these areas had members who were sailors, and many were Khalasis, and they made fortunes. The renowned Dobash family is one such. One of its members, the late

Abu Taher Putu (Putu Bhai) made his name as a footballer in Pakistan time. A life-long bachelor, Putu Bhai drew everybody close to him by his endearing personality. He had a very old servant who suddenly died last year. Putu Bhai was busy looking after the last rites for the burial of the dead. As soon as he interred his servant, he came back home with a severe pain in the chest. He died in the same evening, leaving nobody any chance to do anything for him whatsoever.

The Chittagonian folk songs have made very creative use of the dialect. Two maestro singers, Syam Sunder Vaishnab and Shefali Ghosh did not only sing Chittagonian songs on national media but also took them to far off places in the country. Non-Chittagonian may dislike the dialect, but they love the songs. Vaishnab and Ghosh were an invincible pair and always sang in duet until Syam Sunder died a couple of years ago.. They rendered the songs with enough dramatic postures and verve, thereby stealing the hearts of thousands. The most popular Chittagonian song is of course the one sung in adoration of the river Karnaphuli and the sampan, the prime boat of the area, 'Fan chhoddo chhoddo dheu tuli, Lusai paharattun namiyere jargui Karnafully,' (The Karnaphuli is gliding down from the Lusai hill in little waves). Other popular songs are mostly love songs making a nostalgic mention of the lost heroic days: "Hasti Durai jargui damal maliniro mahale," (the hero is rushing toward the bed chamber of his beloved riding an elephant).

The Chittagonians show their wit

and humour when they speak freely in dialect. The two most baffling words they are gia ('g' is pronounced as in 'Gear') and fanlar. Gia is a word that establishes phallic communion. It is used as a pronoun for a wide range of nouns. Look at its flexibility: A asks B, "Are you eating gia?" B answers, "Yes I'm eating gia." Got the joke! The other word fanlar means 'it seems' or "I think'. The father might ask his son: "If you took Chemistry rather than English, you would fanlar do well." The suspicious wife might whisper into her husband's ears, "you fanlar see another woman!"

The Chittagonian also love to use slang and obscenities while they are in a friendly atmosphere. Sometimes people at the upper echelon betray this habit. This is about a former minister from Chittagong, whom I won't name but who could not speak without using a four lettered word. One day the Prime Minister, who was his political colleague for a long time, tried to admonish him mildly. The Prime Minister said, "I heard that you always speak in slang even as minister?" The Chittagonian minister, unruffled, said, "Who (then the four-lettered word coming) told you that?”

The Chittagonians prefer to use proper names with a deflection. So, Ali becomes Aillya, Selim becomes Selimmya, and Moin becomes Moinnya. As long as you don't mind, it doesn't matter. And if you mind, you can also call your friend's name in a similar manner, it'll not matter either.

The writer is Professor, Department of English, Chittagong University.