It
was pretty late when I reached home. And I bumped into this sardar. He said “Chal
station jaate hain, mujhe egg bhurji lana hain” I just hopped onto his bike.
Since it was late night, the egg-stall owner was in a mad rush to close down.
My sardar friend was just finishing his bhurji…as fast as he could.
A
police van passed by, and the egg guy, to avoid being spotted by the van, shifted
the handcart a bit on the side. Another man, eating at the other end of the
handcart- wasn’t too comfortable with the handcart’s shifted position. Sardar-
out of sheer human-to-human concern- said “ Bhaiyaji, aap yeh side kyon nahi aa
jaate. Mera khatam hone ko aaya ( bhai, why don’t you shift your plate this
side. I’m almost through now)”.
An
earthquake struck. The man threw his plate and all of a sudden came barging
towards my friend. My sardar friend didn’t know what hit him, as the first few
blows landed on his face and he fell on the ground flat, blood oozing out from
his lips. Saala, bhaiya bola? Madar….xxx tu mujhe bhaiya bola? Saale suvar ki
aulad, gaali diya mujhe? Tu samajta kya hai apne aapko huh? MC-BC bhaiya tera
baap, Teri maa, Saale Mumbai amchi Mumbai, aur mee kaun? Marathi manoos…..all
these poisonous venom spewing out in Marathi…..and the blows keep raining on my
sardar friend. Pleaded, requested…and tried to tell him that he never meant
anything offensive, anything derogatory…and the ‘bhaiya’ term was a common
respectful request.
In 5 minutes, this man had broken my specs, as I tried to
intervene, he had also smashed the rear view mirrors of the sardars’ bike. He
had heaped on the most foul abuses and
gaalis, which, are not publishable. He gave a long lecture- while hitting and
screaming- of how Marathi manoos ka hi Mumbai hain. Bhaiya’s and Biharis….aakar
kharab kar rahe hain….( the ideology of MNS) and that how Bhaiya’s are
outsiders and they should be sent packing back home. The climax is – he was a
police constable.
It
just brings us to one point. Of how political ideology is shaping and
influencing so much hatred against migrants….so much that without any
provocation, without any rhyme or reason, a silent polite sardar was beaten up.
His only fault- was he uttered the word ‘Bhaiya’.
Escalate
this incident and think of the future that we could be staring at. Where nobody
wants to be Indian, but only want to demarcate their ward, their territory,
their state and their caste castles. Is India a piece of cake that any
politician can come, slice it, cut it and create his/her own slice- a slice on
the basis of religion, caste, creed, state, language, borders, insider-outsider
politics, OBC/ST/STC…….the list could be endless.
Would
be best to end this story with what one Chacha’ taxi driver told me one day,
while passing by parel. We missed a govinda group by a whisker, in the traffic
jam…and he said’ Saab, yahan agar galti apna nahi hoga toh bhi sab marega…bolega
Bhaiya hain, fod daalo uski taxi ko.Itna zeher acha nahi hain. He then
mentioned about Nagpada/ Bhindi bazzar, where he stays. Sir, yahan, ek
musalmaan bolega ki “ bachao”, toh dus log daud ke aayenge. Mujhe koi puchega
nahi ki main Bihari Muslim hoon, ya Maharashtrian muslim hoon.
Well-
the profound truth.
Think
about the deep lesson that lies within.
Jai
hind.
No comments:
Post a Comment