One of Hubster's good friends visited us today. After a round of chitchat and tea the conversation turned to the word 'appachchi'. The friend's idea was that anyone is free to call their fathers any name they wanted, as we are one Sri Lankan nation and there should not be an up country-low country division.
True. We agreed. There should not be an up country-low country division. It's not as if we don't have enough divisions already. But here's the catch. Lately everyone I've met seems to be calling their fathers appachchi. Even those who addressed their fathers thaththa or some other denonym. Most of the little ones are taught to call their dads appachchi these days. I even know a family with two boys out of whom the elder calls their father thaththa and the younger calls him appachchi. I also have friends whose whole generations have called their fathers appachchi. They are the authentic ones. For me, I call my dad thaththa and my son calls Hubster thaththa and none of these posh name calling for us thank you.
Which is what I first thought it was. A fad. The new posh thing. But today, while talking to our friend, I realised, while it may be posher to call your thaththa appachchi these days, for the average Sri Lankan there's a bigger, almost subconcious reason for it. Racism. The sudden Sinhalese uplift. It's more Sinhalese to call one's father appachchi. They are embracing their true Sinhalese selves.
This is how the BBS and the RB and the whatnot are stealthily, sneakily snaking into the subconscience of the populace.
It's mastermind, that's what it is. Also kind of sick, in the worst way possible.
Also, oh please!