Mama’s boy Andrew Scolt and the buy-one-get-one-free twins Biswanath and Somnath Dasgupta at the awards night

Mama’s boy Andrew Scolt and the buy-one-get-one-free twins Biswanath and Somnath Dasgupta at the awards night with the ayarams and gayarams putting shuttlecocks to shame and turncoats changing parties as easily as they do their dhotis, switching loyalties is in and ditching old friends the order of the day. You will, therefore, forgive me for crossing over. No, I haven’t sold my soul for a seat; I’ve only moved from page M4 to M2 (Metro 4 to Metro 2, to the uninitiated) and from Tuesday to Friday, or maybe even Saturday.

Do join me once a fortnight at my new party address, as you and I keep a collective eye on our candidate, Calcutta, voting sometimes for and sometimes against it; praising it to the high heavens one minute, shredding it to pieces the next. Today, we’ll indulge in some peeth chaprano (back-patting!).

The Calcuttan may lack some of the qualities so essential to make a man of substance or a complete woman… or is it the other way round! But if there’s one quality we have in abundance, it is a super sporting spirit. Many Calcuttans personify it; some more than others; perhaps none better than Usha Uthup.

At the Godrej Renew Hair Colour Cream Sananda Tiolottama last week, she, yet again, raised the bar of the level of sporting spirit in the city to new heights. Called on stage by the MC, yours truly, who was truly relieved to see her, she had no hang-ups being invited at the last minute to present the awards in the sub-categories.

Not just that, she responded spontaneously to my request to sing a few lines for each of our winners. Grace Gomes, the winner of the Most Beautiful Smile was serenaded with Smile through Nat King Cole, while Kaustavi the winner of the Most Beautiful Eyes was gifted with Surmaiyee ankhiyon mein. Thanks Ushadi for being there when we need you and even when we think we don’t!

Another special attribute that sets us Calcuttans apart is our very own brand of humour. We enjoy a good laugh, even if the joke’s on us and don’t mind getting away from our daily routine and playing the clown. Once again, going by my experience at the Tilottama that night, I am happy to report that the Calcuttan’s sense of humour (SOH) is still intact and is still unconventional, uninhibited and occasionally below-the-belt.

After our eight finalists tackled questions ranging from the cerebral (‘god or science’) query of Rahul Khanna to the philosophically fashionable (‘If you were allowed only one, which item of make-up would you take with you to an island’) googly from Blossom Kochar, I sensed that they needed to take a chill pill.

So, we got them to let their hair down and chew on the funny bone. We told the girls that we had just the perfect match for each of them — someone who would certainly light up their evening. We advised them to be themselves, react spontaneously, and shun stereotypical answers of the ‘beauty is something from within’ variety.

The girls, mostly school and college students, were most Calcuttan in their response. They cracked up with laugher and took pot shots at the prospective suitors, themselves sporting Calcuttans. The first was Sanchita who admitted that she got weak at the knees whenever she saw a tall, handsome man. So on strode the macho, mustachioed Ajaybhai and guess what, Sanchita came up to his knees. The16-footer is the ever-smiling stilt-walker your kids look up to at Clown Town. In spite of the thoughtful lambooji handing over a pair of binoculars in case she had a problem looking into his eyes, the young lady looked him straight in the knee and said: “Thank you; but no thank you!”

Next it was Sonali Sehgal’s SOH test. I asked her to choose between a professional and a waster. She went for a doctor. Little ‘dutt’ she realise that I had professional quiz master Severin Coates Reid as Tunna Bhai, fraud cousin of fraud MBBS Munna Bhai, up the sleeve of my Sharbari Datta masterpiece. When he asked her if she had any “tunsun” in her life, “kya?” she looked him straight in his daku-like scar and told him she didn’t, but having met him, “tunsun shuru ho gaya tha”!

Our third finalist was Olivia, and she had Babu Shona offered to her on a platter. She refused. TTIS’ associate editor Andrew Scolt in his mama’s boy garb who happily walked off with his mama saying he was very attached to her and wanted to remain that way forever. He would, the naughty fellow! His mama turned out to be a bombshell in a tight black dress.

Next in the laugh line was Pamela, who admitted that she loved BOGOF (Buy One and Get One Free) offers. So we made her a BOGOF biyer offer – Naadu and Chaadu. Biswanath and Somnath Dasgupta, the creative brainboxes of my team, are genuinely a-minute-apart identical twins, and had no problem bringing the mirror image brothers alive on stage. They said they would each take three-and-a-half pheras at the marriage ceremony and promised their prospective bride 24-hour service and care, since one slept during the day and the other at night. Particularly mind-blowing was their entry: while one inhaled from a cigarette, the other blew out the smoke.

Then there was Mr Busybody — always busy with his body — in the shape of former bodybuilder and PT teacher Chandan Das, 58, and still good enough to give Salman a run for his bucks — black or otherwise! He was followed by computer hardware specialist Ryan Shaw who found it hard wearing a hideous wacko–jacko wig. The Bad man looked Dangerous as he danced onto stage after Grace said she would like to have a husband who loved children and wanted to be surrounded by kids all the time. Horrible joke, that!

The seventh eligible bachelor was Bancha Shylock Ram, a dirty old man, filthy rich, with an even filthier mind. Played by Partha Ghosh, our stone-faced moneybag, he told his prospective bride that he had only one condition: “Rattirey khuley ditey hobey, shokaley poriye ditey hobey (you’ve got to open them at night, and put them on in the morning).” He was talking about his dentures, silly!

The last man in at the swayamvar was for the lady who said she wanted a husband who will put her up on a pedestal. You guessed right — she got travel consultant Kumar Mitra, a look-alike of the father of nine who transferred his better-half from the head of his kitchen to the head of his cabinet (Laloo Prasad Yadav, for the uninitiated). For some strange reason, our eighth finalist laughed her head off.

Yes, we finally laughed that night after a serious competitive dash for the prestigious crown. I, for one, felt reassured that our funny bone is just where it should be.