I am a true Indian and a Harijan. So are all my relatives, friends and contacts. One happy day I gave good news to all, "I am going to Varanasi." All were happy but worried too. With congratulations, I was showered with pieces of advice.
"Varanasi-Holy Ganga! ….how lucky you are! Great?
"No, no, you would have tried to America."
"It's the same thing. Varanasi or America…Makes no difference. Success is more important…This time Varanasi…next …America! Who knows?"
Really, a big name! A big city, a lonely planet and a glamorous playground of the dark-superstitious-Hindu world.
"But beware of Pundas, Brahman, Sadhus and cheats."
"Don't go out alone on banks of river Ganga. It is full of rowdy Sadhus, pundits and cheats. "
I was surprised that why everybody was so scared of Hindu Sadhus and pundits but love Muslim Mazars and dargahs.
In India too, I have been hearing this since I was a child. Indian model of secularism has made Muslims as the most important species. That is talking about them has become fashionable, intellectualism, humanism and above all a powerful vote bank.
Long, whitish donning skull cap, some in lungis and most of the women in burqas and in hijabs. We have all possible shades of Islam among us.
"Crazy people. They love everything Islam and Islamic. Good or bad makes no difference"
"Ha-ha, hee-hee, hoo-hoo," everybody laughed.
Mr Dior of France has created a perfume called Poison. A black bottle in the shape of half cut apple. So is Brut. Similarly Rape jeans.
All are so popular here and there too.
Whatever the trend there, it is to be followed here.
"Varanasi is a very expensive city. Where will you stay?"
"Take my niece's address. She lives in the safe township, Malviya Nagar. You can stay with her. You can go to Knowledge Village in the morning and come back in the evening." Shall I ask if the niece is Hindu or Muslim? What a funny question! A Hindu niece will be a Hindu.
Whatever she is, my lodging has been prearranged. Happy! Spoke to the niece, "Enquire at the Varanasi Railway Station and a cab to Malviya Nagar. Call me from there. I will come and pick you up. Telephones in Varanasi are out of order most of the time."
When everything was ready my mother gave me a golden ring studded with blue Sapphire. She said, "It will protect me from inauspicious waves and looks.
All of us live with our past. All of us allow it to shape our future. But some of us know how to shrug the past. I think that is who I am.....
Good. Tension free.
My train reached Varanasi. Big railway station. Everything was big. Big longue. Big luggage. Big sadhus and big pundits. Big women. Big enquiry board. Visible clearly from far. But station itself was very dirty.
The first thing I did after coming out of the coach, I kissed the blue sapphire and the soil of the oldest city and oldest civilization of the world.
Carrying the big luggage on a big trolley, I crossed the big longue, reached the big enquiry counter and stood in front of a blue eyed, healthy, black glass wearing woman. I was surprised why she was wearing black glasses inside a room. She was blind.
"When does the local train leave for Malviya Nagar?
"I don't know."
"Do you have a timetable? Information booklet?"
"I don't know."
I was shocked to see their hostile behaviour towards visitors.
I was almost in tears. Muttered- Malviya Nagar. I was advised by my host," Take a taxi and come. It will cost you Rs.40/= Ask a policeman and get the fare fixed, otherwise, you will be cheated."
I had this choice only. At least my hotel expenses have been saved. I moved towards the taxi stand. There were so many taxis. All the drivers were in grey and whites.
I reached one of the taxis. "Malviya Nagar."
"Meter or without the meter?"
I was taken aback. Was it Varanasi or Chennai?
He has his name plate written ‘Saddam Husain.' on his shirt.
I remembered I had been advised to ask the policeman to get the fare fixed. I saw one there sitting in the booth….Shukla …! Written on his name plate.
"Beware of Brahmans. Stay away from the Brahmans."
Hey, Krishna! Protect. He was advancing towards me like Genghis Khan, the brute and inexhaustible rapist.
"May I help you?" He asked. Tall, strong, tilak on his broad forehead. I was scared and dumbstruck. My tongue trapped. I managed to murmur, "The fare to Malviya Nagar."
"Switch on the meter," he ordered in a firm voice to the driver and me. "It will come around Rs.40/=. Okay?"
"Okay." I was happy to be released from his clutches.
He walked away. He was very decent and soft spoken. I felt like stopping him and talking…But ….beware of Brahmans.
All of us live with our past. All of us allow it to shape our future. But some of us know how to shrug the past. I think that is who I am.....
The driver was on his seat. He opened the boot of the car by pulling a knob. I put my luggage in it. As soon as I entered the taxi, it moved. Speed was very high like the arrow of Arjun's Gandiv. I was on the cloud nine although a little nervous. Outside it was hot, but inside the taxi it was cool. The temperature was comfortable. I closed my eyes to take a small nap. I heard the driver's voice.
"Where do you have to go Madam?"
"Malviya Nagar."
"Any idea, where's that?"
"I don't know. Wait; Let me see it on the map." As I was seeing the map, the meter clicked Rs.50/=.
"I Shouted, we have crossed Malviya Nagar. Meter is indicating Rs.50/=."
"Stupid policeman. Forty! He does not know anything. Wanted to ruin my business as I don't bribe him"
"So? Miser Indian. Get down here."
"How can I get down here in a remote forest?"
"I have to go to Malviya Nagar."
"It will cost you near about 70 to 80 rupees."
"Whatever. I have to go there. Move. Signboards may give us some clue. I also tried to find out on the map."
I kissed my blue sapphire.
"Malviya Nagar. Malviya Nagar. " I jumped with joy.
"Street? Block, building, number?"
"Raja Harish Chandra Road, Amrapali Towers, B-Blok, Flat No.101.
Oh God, Jai Hanuman, Here Krishna Here Ram, Om Namah Shivaya, please bless me and help me.
The driver got down in front of a tall building.
"This is your address."
"This one?" Totally abandoned type. Few Mazars near by. On the other side was a forest. Totally dark.
I went into the building campus. There was a temple near the entrance. Some sadhus and pundits were busy in some puja and chanting holy mantras.
Taxi driver muttered something.
I heard, "Hindu bitch."
Who? Where? Or me? There was no one. So am I a bitch? Oh Krishna! Protect me.
In a split second rape of Syria, Iraq, Egypt, Nigeria etc., danced in my mind.
I shouted, "The policeman has the number of your car. Take me to the proper address."
He laughed at me.
"Listen, listen. The policeman is our brother and a local. He will not help you against us."
I was taken aback. In India, Muslims are treated like VIPs. But here they are naming me as a bitch. What a great bond? Actually, nobody cares for Hindus and Indians.
A whistle thud and a guard was standing in front of me.
He was like a demon. Tall, strong, tilak on his broad forehead, moustache, and blue eyed. He laughed at me.
"Yes, madam. Why are you disturbing us here?"
I was shocked at his behaviour. I was just enquiring about the right address only and he was blaming me of disturbing him.
"Please help me. I have to go to Raja Harish Chandra Road, Amrapali Towers.
Asking a Brahman for help!... What is this?
He appeared more dangerous.
Here Krishna, Here Ram.
I kissed my blue sapphire ring.
The demon opened the door of the car and sat next to me. I minimized myself into the corner. He roared, "Driver."
The driver came running and puffing.
"Raja Harish Chandra Road, Amrapali Towers. No ifs and buts"
My blood froze. The driver became pale. He was hurling abuses some time in English, some time in their local dialects.
"Donkey, bastard, pig…!
On his name plate was written, Ram Kumar Mishra.
We reached "Raja Harish Chandra Road, Amrapali Towers.
The taxi stopped. I got down.
"Open the boot," I shouted.
The driver also got down. He was a middle aged man.
"Open the boot."
"Give me the money first."
"I will give you the fare but first give my luggage."
"No first give the money. Educated Hindu women run away without paying."
I was shocked and surprised. How poorly they think of educated Hindu women?
"I was told that taxi drivers like you ran away with luggage as well as money. Open the boot take out my luggage and take your money."
Ultimately again Ram Kumar Mishra roared,"Give her luggage. Don't talk much. I am here."
Blue sapphire – strong skull capped man and women passed by. All were staring at me.
At last, both I and my luggage were safe.
I called the niece and she took me to her small flat. I told her about my experience. "These taxi driver scoundrels are all cheating and consider we educated Hindu girls as second-grade citizens."
Luckily I have got a shelter so easily. I enjoyed my first night with this unknown niece of my neighbour. Next day I strolled in the campus of the building. All very imposing, huge and luxurious houses. Long, bright foreign made cars.
The niece said,"This is very good, posh and safe colony. No local or non-Hindu live here. All are outsiders. Some are Europeans. So no tension, no crime. Women are very safe here.
I spent the next night with her. The next morning I took a train to Knowledge Village where I was appointed as an academic executive in a university. My job would take the full day. I would have to find out a room near my workplace.
The flat of the niece was near the ghetto of Muslims where the majority of the people were in silk and cloth business.
The train arrived. The gate of the coach was quite wide. I was feeling clumsy and uncomfortable…
A large number of locals entered the coach in like rowdies.
I saw four empty seats. I tried to occupy one. The table cum board which had been locked with the seat suddenly opened and hit my hips.
"We are playing chess here," a well built, fair complexioned man said. He had opened the table without any warning. On two other seats were big sized men. One seat was empty. People in the coach were laughing at me. They were all rich people wearing expensive clothes and carrying briefcases. They all must be going to markets, every morning and returning together in the evening. They must be playing chess every day. But the same thing could have been said politely. They were all local weavers except me. "Are all locals as uncivilized?"
I cursed myself. Coward! Coward Hindu woman. I felt like crying. Humiliation, anger, frustration, shame, self-condemnation and what not. They cannot defeat me in arguments. Academically I was much higher. Hindus are treated so badly everywhere.
I took the cheapest room near the Knowledge Park. The hotel has strange rules. They made me first deposit entire amount. If I leave the hotel earlier,
"Take back your money when you leave," came a terse reply. I have no reply. We are the third class citizen.
I kissed my blue sapphire to get some solace.
Leaving my suitcase in the room, I went out for a walk. It was very hot outside. But I wanted to see the city. I also ate a tasteless burger and drank coffee.
Fast and furious winds started blowing. I rushed towards the hotel. I put an overcoat to protect my sari. The winds did not stop. They became more furious. The shade by the road side was crowded with the people waiting for the taxis. Taxi drivers were giving preference to locals and people from ghettos. This was another shock. In India, there is racism in everything. After an hour I got a cab and reached the hotel.
Everybody was surprised. How could I reach on time in this weather otherwise,"Indians are never on time."
Next day again the weather was very bad and taxis were asking four times the amount. Very difficult situation. Almost impossible to reach the office. It was raining very heavily now. My umbrella turned inside out. I was very badly tired. "Taxi" I yelled.
Nobody stopped. I was running to reach on time. I requested a policeman. But he was also of no help. I reached a tourist office. The attendant told me," You cannot sit here. Office time is over, so I have to lock the office." On his name plate was written Amar Paswan.
The weather was very cruel.
My skin was burning and my head was spinning. Only I remained there in the storm like King Lear, plunging, drowning, and floating in the storm.
I could not reach my office nor to my hotel.
I saw a temple nearby. I rushed inside. I saw a small cabin type shelter. I sat there on the ground. There I got respite from rain and storm.
I have just lain down…I removed my wet sari…went off to sleep.
"Wake up, get up!"
"Let me sleep."
"It is morning. Wake up."
I opened my eyes. A very smart, fair skinned and sharp featured young man was shaking me.
I screamed loudly.
He moved back, shocked and scared.
I got up.
He came near me with a glass of hot milk.
"Thank Baba Vishwanath, you are alive."
Tears dripped down my cheeks.
"Why did you come here?"
"I could not get any taxi and there were heavy rain and storm outside."
"Where do you have to go?"
"Raja Harish Chandra Road, Amrapali Towers, B-Blok, Flat No.101."
I tried to get up. I faltered. He lifted me by holding my hand. Again I stumbled. He put his hand around my waist and lifted me. I did not resist, rather I liked his touch.
"Are you drunk or drug addict?"
"No. I am tired and hungry."
He touched my forehead and hand.
"You have fear."
"May be! I am feeling very weak and exhausted."
"Do you have disprin or paracetamol with you?"
"No."
He gave a call to someone and told that Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj was speaking. He ordered to bring disprin or paracetamol tablets.
He took me to his room. I lied down on his bed. A boy brought the medicines. He gave the money. He gave me biscuits to eat before medicines. He dissolved the disprin in water and gave me. I took the paracetamol with the milk. I was feeling much better.
After some time he brought two plates of aloo-puris. We both ate breakfast together and took tea.
"What is the time?" I asked.
"Eleven…morning."
"Now I have to leave."
"I won't let you go alone."
He gripped my hand firmly.
"Why?"
"Taxi and auto drivers, rickshaw pullers, beggars, drug addicts, juggle and ghetto dwellers, etc., may cheat you or rob you."
"I feel scared."
"Of Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj? Then run away."
He removed his hand. This time I gripped it more tightly.
I was amazed but happy that a Brahman priest is so kind and caring for a Harijan woman.
He took me to the taxi stand and asked the driver to drop me at my hotel and not to charge any money. I was surprised the respect he had in the mind of the people.
I came back to my hotel room and removed my dirty clothes…lay down on the bed crying…and slept.
I was wrong.
Yes. Brahman. Male. And me?
Female. Hindu.. Harijan. Alone
I took Disprin. The hotel was full of people. But all were tired. Some were Sheikhs, some foreigners, a few lean and thin Indians. But all of them were tired and exhausted.
On the next morning, I got up. Absolutely happy and tension free. I kissed my blue sapphire. I checked out the room, collected my luggage, handed over the keys, and took my money back.
I finished my coffee. Ate the pizza, swallowed the disprin again and called the cab.
Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj cured a sick worm. I failed but Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj had won.
I reached the temple. Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj received me and alighted my luggage.
"I will live here permanently."
Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj smiled, gripped my hand and took me to his room.
I kissed my blue sapphire.
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