Collective Vengeance

We lived in a rustic dense chawl of Kanjur marg that populated majority of factory workers migrated from small districts of Uttar pradesh and Bihar. There were quite many local maharashtrians as well. But not many had agricultural land back at home town, we were elated by the fact that in the event of major mishap, we will have secondary source of income and we can always go back to our village in Ayodhya and make our living. My maternal uncle was general manager in some big company in mumbai and lived in classy appartment in mumbai. We were as good as his servants that time. Thats the reason, he never liked to visit our place,a dingy residence.

That day, Sun rose from west and he arrived in his luxurious mercedes to our place. He scornfully looked at asbestos roof and mediocre flooring of my house. Despite his attitude, I liked him because he was a self-made person. He was another rags to riches story in himself. His driver slept in the car itself. He decided to stay at my residence that night. It was going to be a dreadful night for him and his driver. 

By the late evening, news started to come that weapons have been ceased by local police in the nearby mosque. The mosque lied adjacent to dairy farm owned by a muslim called Saeed. Saeed was a tall handsome person. He owned more than thousand buffellows and few hundred cows. It was quite a lot of business. But I have always seen him, injecting some medicine to sick beasts and delivering milk at the counter. The area near mosque was plush with muslim people. One could make out there number during Eid and Muharram. However, during riots we stopped buying milk from that muslim owned dairy farm. But we always missed that quality of milk. The purest one. 

Soon after the news broke, curfew imposed again in the area. My maternal uncle couldn't go back even if he wanted. That night, he had to stay with us. Police constables manned the area, shouting, 'Jagate Raho'. (Be Alert!!). Anything could happen that night. Some constables hit the doors with their sticks, not with the intention that somebody should open the door, but to reinforce the message that 'One should be alert!!'. As and when somebody hit the door, my heart pulsated faster. My grandfather lived with us. He was very frail and frightened kind of person. In order to be prepared for any mischance, he has bought hard steel rods. As somebody hit the door, he gripped again the rod and pursed his lips, as if he could take them all, whosoever comes. 

Door was knocked again and again. We were used to it. Finally we all slept, carelessly. After some time, I heard some noise and opened my eyes. Two constables were discussing with all elderly people in house that some people have pelted stone on the car, parked a bit distant from our place. Driver was missing. We couldn't go to the car,as it was curfew time and waited for next morning at 9 O'clock until curfew lifted. Elders waited while talking, but I slept.

Next morning, the car was found burned to ashes. The missing driver was found dead near the mosque area. His name was Raqib. My maternal uncle has employed him a month back.

I didn't see my maternal uncle again. After 15 years, I got the news that he died of heart attack.

A zilch of mumbai in me

India is an amazing country. One can find all possible climates over here. From extreme cold to extreme hot, from arid desserts to heavy rainfall areas, one can enjoy all the seasons as per their comfort and will. Mumbai enjoyed two seasons primarily, extreme rain for about six months and moderate & humid summers for another six. The place I resided named Bhayander was famous for limited water supply from municipality so water tanker business was easily seen in the area. They filled up tankers from nearby wells and supplied to apartments on regular basis. But it didn’t suffice and one had to limit the per person usage of water. My elder brother never liked this idea of limiting the water usage for personal usage. He always yearned to live in the countryside, our home town in Faizabad which was plush with water supply from mother earth. There were many like us who were part of this ghettoized life of bhayander. This dearth of the quint-essential element water was replenished by rain water during rainy season. The apartment residents used to put buckets and beakers on the terrace to collect the natural water. Owing to heavy industrialization in the area, the rain water was dark and unfit to drink but it could be used for washing clothes and bathing.

I used local train for commuting to my college in new bombay. During rainy days, it wasn’t surprise that I had to walk in hip deep water from local train station to my residence. It was around 2 km of stretch and such walks were exciting for teenagers, it wasn’t so for the elders. Stepping in the hip deep water was even more exciting while it rained when it felt like you are getting into a river. When the rain had stopped, the logged water didn’t look fresh and it even mixed with the drain water. However, it wasn’t an option for me. When I had to do it, I had to do it. But whenever I did, I enjoyed. Sometimes it wasn’t safe either to have such a tread as there is a possibility of opened up manholes and drowning in it. So whenever I reached home with all my clothes drenched, umbrella wide open, shoes stinking and feet blanched, it didn’t feel nonetheless of an achievement. And a cup of hard-tea after such an adventure was like exaggerate icing on the cake. Mumbai has underground power cable which they typically cut-off during very heavy rains for safety reasons. So the candle-lit dinner in such weather used to be blissful.

That day I got up bit early in the morning. I used to get up very early everyday but that day it was even earlier. I planned to reach college bit early, this had dual benefit, first the local train used to be less crowded in early hour and second I could go and occupy the seat closer to Tithi in the college. Keeping this mind I bathe early and ate my breakfast and started my journey of the day. yes, it used to be 2-3 hour long journey before I reached my college. That day, my timings coincided with my father’s office timing. He left home just one or two minute earlier but we were not together. It was scarce drizzling in the morning so I decided hire the autorickshaw to commute till the railway station. I reached the railway station comfortably and quickly. But when I was paying the fare, I saw a somewhat known person reaching railway station hurrily. He didn’t see me. He was my father who didn’t hire any rickshaw and came walking. Rickshaw guy asked me pay the fare quickly as he had to get other customers also. I was dumbfound to see my father who earned the money and didn’t enjoy it while I enjoyed without earning even a penny. I rarely enjoyed this ‘luxury’ after that.