(Bihar Times) The whole Bihar appears bingo at any of its bus stop---from Patna to Purnia to Paschimi Champaran. The colour, class, caste; the pride, prejudice; the talk, walk; the commerce, curiosity; the sweat-smell, pell-mell; the cacophonous noise, punctured poise; the fetid filth, faithful fight and all the hustle and bustle of the boulevard Bihar are conspicuous at the bus stands across the state.

In the time of all this Bihari bhagao- Marathi Manoos brouhaha in Maharashtra I happened to be at one of those bus-stands recently. Slurping chai at "Banwari Tee Staall" I got a chance to get to know what Bihar feels today. It was too local yet too much national; too repetitive yet too much topical; too apolitical yet too much political.

A lower middle class, college dropout youth all geared up to migrate to Mumbai and his feeble father loaded with head-full of questions and apprehensions were engaged in some contravenous conversation. Sitting next to them on a one-legged creaky wooden bench this is what I overheard----as a pretentious oblivious!

Making a big slurp of Banwari's deep burnt reddish tea son Satya Prakash says: "Now there is no use of going to college and wasting my time and your hard earned money any more. I've become a man like you and strong enough to earn for the family".

"…but what will you do and where do you go? If you complete your education I'm sure you will get a salary job in those big cities", argues father Mishri Lal putting his palm on the tea glass to compress the blowing steam inside.

"But for how long you keep doing this bone-breaking job of a bus-conductor and feed nine wide-open hungry mouths. I feel ashamed of me. No..no there is no use of studying further", says Satya Prakash with obvious frustration write large on his boyish face.

"…And, you also got me married last year? She is pregnant and needs extra care for her and the child. What was the need of getting me married so early?", questioned Satya Prakash leaving his father mum for a moment.

Mishri Lal stares point blank. Lips glued to each-other.

He was apparently not bothered with the kind of unexpected question fired by his son but seemingly perturbed with millions of questions and apprehensions running riot in his half-bald head.

At one time he just looks at his frail, falling frames of body and the very next moment he sees at his young son who is yet to have a full grown moustache like he had at his time.

A short pause with a long rhythmic burp and he takes an expensive sip of Banwari's brownish tea by removing his wet palm from the top of its off-white glass. "But, things are not good in Bambaiee. People like us are being thrashed, bashed up and even killed by them".

"Deo Narayan's brother was telling me only yesterday that his family members are returning back from there as their taxi was torched by them. They are targeting people like us whom they have been calling bhaiyyas for long".

"But, I'll not drive Taxi or sell pav-bhaji at Juhu or Chowpatti, neither I'll sale pan, bidi or cigarette on the pavements and moreover I'm not going as an examinee. Haven't you seen they target only these kind of people who look like bhaiyyas", asks Satya Prakash as if he is well aware of all what is happening in Bambaiee.

"Have they ever attack any fileem star, bada babus or businessman from Bihar? Tell me have you read or heard even one incident?"

"Arre, these are just politics and once the poll is over everything will be over. Don't you know there are about 40 lakh of Us there living in every possible available space?"

"Sab, politics hai, Baauji.. you don't worry."

Still Banwari's half-glass tea is there in their off-white glasses with their palm pressing hard on top of it.

"…but didn't you see how they killed Rahul Raj and wasn't there news in Prabhat Khabar two days back that Pawan Kumar's dead body has reached his Barakhurd village in Nalanda? Both were young like you".

".. they even are justifying Rahul's killing and presenting CCTV footage that Pawan fell from the train and died in mishap. No, no I'm not that strong enough to carry deadbody of my young son on my shoulder."

Son Satya Prakash looks other way trying to ignore his fathers' word.

"Try to understand Baauji…they will not figure me out? They can't. Didn't Mahendra Babu once was saying I donot look like from Bihar? I had addressed him as "hullo, sir" and I was wearing the same blue denim jeans and red polo T-shirt which you had bought me on Maladidi's wedding two years back".

"I'll wear that and speak in English. They will never point me out as a Bihari. You tell me, do I look like one? And, Baauji, what will I do here?"

"Is there any work, any factory, any job for people like us here? Why lakhs 'n lakh migrate from here every year. Whatever little arable field you have that too is now Kosi maiya. What will we eat.. baalu?, drink?... badh ka paani? How would we lay concrete roof on our house before next monsoon?... Huh!".

"But Nitish Babu is promising to make Bihar a developed state, make everything available here by 2015?", Mishri Lal argues.

"For this we've to wait till 2015? Can we survive empty stomach by that time? Though, I donot doubt what Nitish Babu is promising or saying but

it is a long time and what will happen when again his gol-matol rival would come in power? Politics hai, kuch bhi ho sakta hai!", says Satya Prakash.

Now, both make a big slurp of the remaining tea and emptied Banwari's tea glass, rub their wet palms on their shirts and starts from where they had left.

"…But, what if they figure you out, catch you, no, I mean suppose…"

"In worst case I'll be killed, they will kill us but here I will be killed by poverty, hunger, unemployment… ."

"But, if I'll be killed there by them we'd become famous overnight Baauji. You know, all the top politicians will come unitedly to condemn my killing, they will meet Prime Minister, President to seek an inquiry. The whole India would know my name and I'll be the top news for everyone for two-three days".

"…and, they would come to our half-mud, half-thatched and half-concrete house with all the TV and Paper wallas along with them. All will come, sit with you, present their concocted grief-stricken faces and promising for a judicial or CBI inquiry they would come out to pose for presswalla…. .compensation of lakhs would be declared…"

".. they may even resign from Parliament [but certainly not from Rajya Sabha]"

"You'll be famous Baauji. Our family will become famous. People of our village, district and state would see didi, maa and all chutkis wailing inconsolably on TV…"

"A day after you even will be coaxed to sit on a dharna demanding compensation and top inquiry into my killing".

"In a way my death will at least take us out of poverty and looming hunger. What I could not do while living would be done by my killing. I will die for my family. My death will not go waste".

"It will do good for the family, Baauji".

Mishri Lal could not hold his tears and covered his face with his faded cotton towel. He remained in that position for five minutes.

Meanwhile, Banwari comes for paisa. But, seeing Mishri Lal soaking his face into his towel he slowly slips away from the spot.

"...I donot want to lose you…I'll not survive to see all this. Please don't go to Baambaie. The monster and his goons will kill you".

"See how big they have made him. He challenges everyone police, politicians, pokes noses at court and judges, says Baambaie runs on his whims and fancies…all seems helpless before him…"

"He fumes fire with rage in eyes, hate in heart.. wears glasses but sees nothing beyond personal."

".. personal is political and politics is property for him. It all runs in his blood, genes. His cartoonist Chacha too had done it earlier and reaped political property."

"They are out to tear apart our country in the name of Bihari bhagao; they are out to make hara-kiri. They are xenophobic."

"They are handful with no political representation in state assembly or parliament but they frighten us, thrash us, beat us, threaten us and if getting a chance kill us."

Now Mishri Lal gathers his depleting strength and appears strong in his words. He even paid Banwari his paisas for two glass tea but he remained firmly sit up at the polio-stricken wooden bench.

"It's a herd mentality, you know Satya Prakash. I've seen it this during communal riots and caste wars. Hatred stimulates herd instincts and it inflicts violence towards those who are not regarded as members of the herd—I've read it somewhere".

Really.

"No, no we will remain here, here in Bihar, in our state. We will work hard here and earn for our family and the state. A day would come when they would be forced to come here and earn their livelihood". But, we will welcome them…aren't you seeing this fileem promo on TV running these days?… mehman ko bhagwan samajhate hain hum".

"We should have faith in what Nitish Babu says and promises, we should pray his gol-matol rival should not come to power again….and,  pray every passing day that their heart may bruise and beat,  pray that every step they take may bruise and burn their feat!".

The bus, Badal Video coach Satya Prakash had come to board, meanwhile, snaked out from the Mitahpur bus stop and another one Maurya Dhwaj Express snaked in. Like others my cousin brother from Baambaie too alights and phews a relief.

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* Patna based special correspondent of The Pioneer

Comment

Comments...

Mr. Tiwary,
You became dramatic in your article which is not suited the plot. The plot here you are narrating is “Situation DO-or-Die”. You mixed up comedy and drama and in a sense it appears to me that the narration is not a true story. The ordinary man who is in such a dire situation does not talk of Long term / Five Years Plan. I remember one story “Akhbar mein Naam”, we had in class 10 in Bihar board. In that story the central character wanted to see his name in news paper be it in any form. Your article lost its all sincerity due to this drama. You seem to be putting your own words / wish through character when you said that let GOL-MATOL politician does not return to power. This kind of cheap statement and narration is not expected from such a grave issue.
I found your article totally out of taste.

Mithilesh Singh Yadav,
Nuremeberg, Germany

mithilesh.singh@aricent.com