Saturday, January 4, 2014

Just Another Story

    This obsession with coffee is something that Vishwa and I haven't been able to conquer. But then, everybody has their own indulgences. So, we don't mind. I don't think anybody else should also! We were sipping coffee in Ramu's at our usual table. The latest songs blared on the radio in Ramu's.
"You know something?" Vishwa started. "The system and society in which we live in is not at all right!"
"Who said it is? No system is perfect. It has to be made perfect. We can never be all perfect, can we Vishwa? If we were, we would be gods. But who are we? Mere mortals. Mere specks on this vast canvas of life" - I replied using all that I had listened to and learnt from a religious discourse the previous night. I had been forced to attend it with my family. They had organised it and invited the speaker - someone from one of the numerous orders in the city.
"Stop speaking like some aged philosopher! There is a flaw in our social makeup. Let me tell you what I mean.
 I was in Bengal on of my vagabond journeys. I deeply wanted to go to Dakshineshwar and visit the Kali temple. I hired a cycle rickshaw. A few minutes into the journey, the rickshaw-wallah started talking to me.
"Babu, would you mind if I tell you a story - so that both of us do not feel the journey?" he asked me in Hindi. Till then, I had narrated stories to many people. But here, I found someone who would narrate me one! I, of course, agreed.
"Babu, the story is set in a period some 20-25 years back. The protagonist of the story is a Muslim ladka. He is a very smart guy - a degree holder. During that time, you know, a simple degree meant a lot! It meant, with Allah's blessings, he was eligible for government jobs and go on to become big Sahebs. His parents were very proud of him. They decided to arrange for his nikah.
However, our hero didn't want to get married without getting a proper job. He didn't want to start a family without money. He offered stiff resistance - until he saw the girl! The girl was so beautiful that all his resistance melted! I have to add that this incident about his supposed resistance became the talk of the town and caused much embarrassment to the boy during nikah - everybody made fun of him! He took it all in his stride. Why wouldn't he? He was marrying such a beautiful girl!
At the time of his marriage, he hadn't yet found a job. However, he was confident of finding one - so was everybody around him. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to find a job soon. Around the same time, he learnt that his child would enter the world in a few months time. With happiness, renewed determination and energy, he set out to find himself a job. He drew a blank everywhere - all jobs were either "sold" or given to those with influence and recommendations!
His child was due any day. Then, a disaster occurred. A man-made one at that. The Babri Masjid was pulled down! Shock waves were felt all around the country! There was widespread communal violence. The families started evacuating and moving to places dominated by their own religion.
But our hero could not move to safety - his wife went into labor. All facilities were hit. He wasn't able to move his wife to the hospital in time. She delivered at home and died during childbirth. The child, however survived.
The troubles increased for our protagonist. There was no one to help him cremate his loving wife - beautiful even in death! There was nobody to take care of his child. Everybody had already moved out. So, he was all alone. There wasn't money to find supplies for his child. Even if there was, nobody wanted to help him - he was a Muslim! The baby cried endlessly and fell into sleep - tired! His heart went out to the child - but he was helpless! He then decided to do something that he would not even dream of in other circumstances - to steal money and go to some far off shop and buy something for his new-born child. He didn't want to let the flame of his family die out! As you might expect, he was caught in the act! Even after he told them his heart-wrenching plight, they were unmoved. They promptly handed him over to the police.
The police slapped charges of inciting communal violence on him and the court sentenced him to prison for 5 years.
Within 2 days, he received news - his only child had died!". The rickshaw-wallah stopped his narration.
I had tears in my eyes. "Babu, Dakshineshwar" he said and stopped the rickshaw. I got down and paid him money. Before leaving, he said "Babu, the story I told you all along, was mine. I am the protagonist of the story". I stood rooted for sometime."
Vishwa dabbed his eyes with his kerchief. I had tears in my eyes too.
"You tell me. Had he been given a job on his merit, would his wife have died? Would he have taken to stealing? Would his child have died? Why did the police have to frame him just because he was a Muslim? Didn't those who caught him have hearts to understand his plight? Ultimately, why did somebody have to demolish some stucture? And why should that affect somebody else living hundreds of miles away from that place? That's what I mean by there is a flaw in our social makeup" - Vishwa asked me, in a voice of anger and frustration.
I had no answer.
The songs still blared on the radio in Ramu's. 

1 comment: