ME n MY BIHARI FRIENDS

“Do not mix with bihari people, stay aloof”, instructions like this and several others in the same line was hammered into my ears about four years ago. Ever since I got lucky and got into a good engineering college in Jharkhand (erstwhile Bihar) ever acquaintance of mine did not hesitate from giving me the very same advice over and over again.

“Which engineering college did you get into?” would be the question, barely would I have finished my reply then spat comes the statement of shock “Its in Bihar !, be careful”. “It is actually in Jharkhand” was my automated answer to this common misapprehension.

As the days rolled by, this common opinion did affect me. Unaware of what life had installed for me I started my journey, little did I know how wrong common perceptions are.

In the beginning I stayed aloof but then it happened. May be it was destiny but from friendly smiles in the hostel lobby to introductions which involved using ‘nics’ and wit rather than your place of origin, from meaningless gossip which involved numerous people squeezed into one 10 X 10 room (God only knows how!) to fights in the cricket field over umpiring decisions, things just started to happen. One thing lead to another and there I was with my new formed gang of friends. Although it took me some time to notice but almost all my friends were biharis. Ironically the only other ethnicity I was friends with was Bengali, arguably the second most dreaded ethnicity of the country.

So there I was a misfit by text book definitions. But life is not about not following stereotypes; it is about creating your own rules. So I jumped the bridge, free from all social reserves and end result was true friendship.

Don’t get me wrong. This has not been a fairytale affair. There have been the usual ups and downs. There have been times when I felt that it would have been best if I never came here and never meet the people I met, there have been arguments, criticism, leg pulling, embarrassment, abuses, cynicism and all other negative emotions possible in all possible quantities. But then there have also been some really good times, numerous night outs, birthday bashes, placement treats, simple casual banters on the mess table or serious discussion about life in general, all of which leave you with the notion that you have friends you can depend on. Irrespective of what happened I know this much that what ever happened, the positives as well as the negatives, was because of my doing, my karma. It was a culmination of the person I am and the persons I am a part of and ethnicity had very little to do with it.

If I was given the ability to reverse the arms of clock and change time I will give it a pass. I am what I am. The things that have happened have made be different, for better or worse only time will tell, but I willing to take that chance. I have installed a few qualities within myself which I shall cherish forever, and I would have never learned them if it was not for the company I have. A few things are for sure, no one can indulge like a bihari can, no one can abuse like a bihari can, no one can care like a bihari can. So here I am proudly proclaiming that life would have been less eventful if it was not for my biharis friends.

May be I got lucky. It might be that the best of people who just happen to be biharis became associated with me. That may be true but I think it is fare that this ethnicity is given a fair chance to present their case before declaring the verdict.

In this “Raj” ,where blood is drawn based on whether you are a bhaiyaji or if your ends with a kar it is very much essential that we practice tolerance and do not allow stereotypes to affect our judgments. It is a matter of individual perception.

And you might just get lucky like me and discover great friends and be left with a life time of sweet memory about people called “biharis”.

OLD IS GOLD

It was a hot April afternoon. The Sun was out in full flare. The sky seemed spotless. There was hardly a soul in the streets as Aditya and his Dad rode towards the Lord Shiva temple.

Aditya, now finally a teenager was going there to pay respect to his deceased grandmother. His grandmother had departed for her heavenly journey a few months ago and keeping in line with Hindu customs the family went to the famous Lord Shiva temple of his city to perform the necessary rituals.

Aditya sat in the front seat alongside his Dad who was busy driving. They left the busy city roads and entered the narrow lanes leading to the magnificent temple. The road was stone laden and not made of tar. It was build by the same king who made the Temple. As they neared their destination the crowd grew. The fact that Indians were deeply religious was evident these devotes indifference towards the scorching sun.

They finally found a place to park their vehicle. The Gods have followers from all strata of society. The Temple was gigantic. Legend has it that he entire structure was carved out from one single rock. But Aditya had seen it so many times that its beauty no longer excited him.

Aditya was a typical teenager. He was restless, hyperactive and like all teenagers he did not like to be corrected. He believed he was now “mature”. Also, like all his peers he somehow resented been told what to do and how to do it.

Aditya’s father was a typical “Dad”. He wanted his son to do the “right” thing. He wanted him to study well, be clean and tidy, sleep early, eat his vegetables, and talk softly. But Aditya’s age always prevented him from taking his fathers words in the right sense. Even their interests did not match.

Aditya’s father was a man of science. Research was his life. Even Aditya loved science but how can he wholehearted agree with his father? Many times his father had corrected him when he enquired out the spiritual or the metaphysical

He always thought him to be judgmental. The generation gap was evident. But being an Indian son he dare not say anything. He just kept fuming from inside and occasionally disclosed his thoughts to his Mother. His mother served as a good audience. She knew it was a phase that every teenager goes through

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Aditya and his father entered the holy place. Near the entrance there were numerous beggars. The Temple premise somehow incites the benevolent nature of the devotees making the place a hot spot for beggars. But

Aditya noticed in one corner a very old lady. It seemed as if she was as old as the temple itself. She seemed insignificant in the crowd. But unlike everyone else she did not have her arm stretched out. She was seated quietly. After much deliberation Aditya finally discovered that she was a soothsayer, she had no customers; her fragile body suggested that she was hungry for many days. But she still chose not to beg.

“Come along quickly, I don’t have all day” -his fathers words broke Aditya’s analysis. “I had asked to stay close to me. What if you get lost?” Aditya became furious. How can his father think he would get lost?” I am old enough to take care of myself” Aditya thought so but did not utter a word.

Inside the shrine they searched for a Brahmin. They were required to feed a Brahmin to earn punya so that the soul of their loved one may get salvation. All this time Aditya was remembering his Grandmother. His mother being a working lady, her grandmother served as his foster mother. He was the apple of her eye and he loved her dearly. But Alas! She is no more.

They finally found a Brahmin. He sat down, cross legged, and Aditya served him while being corrected by his father for not doing the rituals properly. His father may have objective and protested correctly a nominal number of times but to his son it was one too many times. But still Aditya did not say anything. After the meal the Brahmin got his dakshina. He then had a friendly banter with Aditya’s Dad. His father talked about the scientific reason behind using banana leaves to consume ones food, he then talked about the architectural marvel of the shrine giving it a technical analysis, he further talk about religion and how we should look at it in an objective way and not give in to century old blind practices. The Brahmin was impressed. But Aditya was not.

With all the rituals done they came out of the temple. Aditya distributed alms among the beggars. He turned back hoping to find his father but he was no where to be found. After stressing his vision he found his father near the old lady soothsayer.

His father- a man of science was talking to a soothsayer whom he at numerous occasions had labeled illogical. He could believe my eyes. His father was leaning forward with both his arms stretched out. The old lady was meticulously reading the lines in his palm and making remarks. She first made projections about his past. Aditya’s father nodded to whatever she said. ”It is all true” he said .Then she made claims about his future. With eyes wide open and a beaming face, Aditya’s father listened with great sincerity. When she was done he gave her a heavy tip for her services and walked away as a satisfied man.

Aditya was furious. How can his father not practice what he preaches? He had corrected Aditya so many times now it was Aditya’s turn. As they approached their car Aditya finally burst out.

“How can you do this? You believe is soothsaying whereas you always ask me to think logically. What logic were you trying to display back there?” Aditya was loud. He had never talked to his father like that.

His father, calm as always smiled at him and replied in the softest voice “No son, I still don’t believe in soothsaying”.

Aditya was puzzled. He looked back and got his answer. The old lady who was a minute ago all alone was surrounded by customers. Aditya’s dad knew the mentality of people. They always follow the herd. He simply wanted to break the ice. After his dad’s high praise many passersby where curious to query the “talented” soothsayer. The old lady will not be hungry today.

Aditya made eye contact with the old lady. She smiled; it was as if she was saying thank you. She understood what he failed to realize. She understood his Dad’s true intention. He entered the car and they drove away.

Aditya had always believed his dad to be a scientist but above all Aditya’s father was first and foremost a humanist. His Old man truly had a heart of Gold.

The above is an work of fiction but fiction always draws inspiration from real LIFE.