Akshaya Kumar is a tireless seeker who prefers sleep to debate, rhyme to reason and music to science. A qualified Engineer who, after a 4.5 years’ stint in the corporate arena, set out to meet real people and acquaint himself with real issues, he currently does nothing but pursue his various interests that range from Art (Cinema, Music and Literature) to Trekking to Political activism to the game of Cricket, to the best of his abilities and available opportunities.
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‘Namaste Mama [Greetings Uncle],’ said Dileep as the stoutly-built man entered.
Saffron was an interesting choice for the colour of the kurta. Loud as a regular smalltown man who comes to the village often to add to his own feel-good factor, and quick to remove his kurta to introduce us to the sweaty smell, Bajrangi Mama was definitely not an attractive man. I didn’t bother to find out much about him till I was informed by Dileep, softly in my left ear, that neither Bajrangi was his real name, nor was he a real mama to Dileep. As you may have guessed by now, his name had everything to do with the right-wing outfit well known for its alleged hand in many terrorist activities.
Suddenly, the saffron kurta made a lot more sense. And so did a lot of other things, slowly fitting in together. While I heard him say a loud prayer about peace in the world and about fighting injustice, I might have had my doubts. However, they were soon to be wiped clean.
About to go to bed, a loud call came from behind me, ‘Are bhai aiye, kuchh baat-cheet ho jaye… [Come, let’s have a chat…]’
Least interested in baat-cheet, I found an excuse on my way inside the blanket. Yet, to have some fun at my cost, Dileep informed the Bajrang Dal man that I was a firm believer in the ideology of his outfit. That set off the spark. His moment having arrived, Bajrangi Mama sat up in the bed to explain how he didn’t take any time to see through my sharp face. That I must be a proud Hindu was obvious to him. And of course, with that came the direct inference that I must be an ardent supporter of Bajrang Dal. Excited, he called out, ‘Are sone kahan ja rahe hain phir? Bajrangi hokar… [Why, then, are you going to sleep? Being a Bajrangi…]’
‘Shhhh…,’ Dileep hushed him. He was also informed about my being rather reticent by nature. From here on, Dileep decided to have some fun. He began, ‘Aur Mama, Bajrang Dal ka kaam kaisa chal raha hai? [Well Uncle, how’s work for the Bajrang Dal going on?]’
Mama spoke of how the committed members of Bajrang Dal were trying to shape a “Hindu Rashtra” where Ram shall rule and Hindus shall get the justice they deserve. Dileep interrupted, ‘Lekin mama, agar Bharat Hindu Rashtra banega to gair Hinduon ka kya hoga? [But Uncle, what will happen to the non-Hindus if India is declared a Hindu country?]’ He interrupted.
Mama educated him extra-softly after a pause, ‘Hona kya hai, Ramrajya hoga yahan! Ram ke rajya mein kya hota tha? Jo bhi hamare saath milke rahega unko kuchh nahi hoga… [What else, we will have the kingdom of Ram! What used to happen in the kingdom of Ram? Those who live in harmony with us shall be safe…]”
I might have covered my head with the blanket but I wasn’t sleeping by any chance. Bajrangi Mama went on to tell the story that goes in the name of history nowadays: of how Muslim rulers had oppressed the Hindu folks by taxing them, killing them, converting them, breaking their temples and building mosques there instead. As they had made the practice of Hinduism almost impossible then, it was our turn now – “us” being the Hindus of course – to give it back to “them”. Of course, we were going to be tolerant as we had always been, so we’d not harm those Muslims who support us. However, now the Hindu was not going to shy away from standing up to the challenge whenever needed. Evidently, who better than the Bajrang Dal to lead the show? He told us how the young Bajrangis were going to reform one state after another. In fact, Gujarat and Maharashtra, he argued, had already been there; Orissa, Madhya Pradesh and Karnataka, almost. ‘Hindutva is on the rise, Dileep,’ he stated with a persuasive urgency.
‘Lekin Mama… [But Uncle...],’ Dileep had his doubts, still.
Mama cut them short. Proudly, he declared, ‘Jab Bajrangiyo ka Gada chalta hai na toh Police aur Prashasan ki bolti band ho jati hai! [When the Bajrangis gather on the streets the police and administration shut up!]’
‘Woh kaise…? [How come…?]’
‘Are Dileep, jab paanch sau Bajrangi ek saath kahin jama ho jayen toh kisi ki nahi chalti. Jab Dharm bolta hai tab Rajneeti aur Kanoon sirf sunte hain! [When five hundred Bajranjis are gather together at a place, no one else can say a thing. When Religion speaks, Politics and Law can only listen!]’
If not for boredom that emanates out of repetition, I’d have been seething with anger. However, Dileep was in no mood to give up. He asked mama if Bajrangis were not, at least potentially, goondas [goons] who could use religion to settle personal scores.
‘Samaaj bhi vyakti se hi banta hai, Dileep. Yadi Dharm vyakti ki raksha na kare to samaaj ki kaise karega? [The society is also eventually made up of individuals, Dileep. If Religion cannot protect the individual, how shall it protect the society?]’
Dileep reminded him that the war on Muslims, though ideological in its tone, may also be a collective version of a personal battle. But Bajrangi Mama dismissed him saying, ‘Kutark mat karo, Dileep! Dharm kya kehta hai ye samjho! [Don’t argue in vain, Dileep! Understand what religion tells you!]’
Dileep then tried to bring to his attention some of the political affiliations of Bajrang Dal. Asked for his comments on MNS’s stand against the North Indians in Mumbai, Mama came up with a classic, ‘Yaar ab main kya kahun, yeh Shivsena-wale kuchh samajhte nahi hain! Chahe North Indian ho ya South Indian, hain toh Hindu hi na. Hindu hi Hindu ka dushman ho jayega toh kaise chalega! [What do I say now, These Shivsena people don’t understand anything! Be it someone from the North India or South India, after all they are Hindus. If Hindus becomes enemy to Hindu, how shall we manage!]’
‘Lekin Mama, hum log pehle insaan hain… [But Uncle, first of all we are human…]’
‘Kutark mat karo, Dileep! Mujhse vyarth behes karoge toh main bata raha hun bahut gadbad ho jayegi… [Don’t argue in vain, Dileep! I’m telling you, if you go on like this, it may end up in much trouble for you…]’
‘Yahi ap sab Bajrangiyon ka problem hai, Mama. Ap log kisi ki sunte nahi ho [This is the problem with all you Bajrangis, Uncle. You don’t listen to anyone],’ Dileep was taking a liberty that I didn’t know he could afford.
‘So jao Dileep warna nahak mujhse kuchh gadbad ho jayegi! [Just go to sleep Dileep, or there will be trouble from me!]’
—
Dileep went mum for a bit. Mama himself broke the silence with another revelation. He claimed the difference between the others and the Bajrangis was that the latter were “brave” and they actually didn’t stop at discussing – they were people who were committed to bringing about a change.
‘Toh fir ye batao Mama, tumne kabhi kisi Mussalman ko mara hai? [Okay then tell me Uncle, have you ever killed any Muslim yourself?]’
Mama only laughed.
‘Batao toh… [Do tell…]” More laughter.
‘Batao na mama, aj tak tumne kitne Mussalmanon ko khud mara hai? [Tell me Uncle, how many Muslims have you killed yourself till date?]’
‘Tum Dal join karo, Dileep. Tab bataunga. [You join the Dal, Dileep. Then I will tell you.]’
‘Kar lunga mama, lekin kuchh idea toh do… [That I’ll do Uncle, but give me an idea at least…]’
Mama replied extra-softly, ‘Kya baat karte ho! Deewaron ke bhi kaan hote hain. Tum Dal join karo… [What are you talking about? Even the walls have ears. You join the Dal first…]’
‘Bajrangi hokar darte ho? Batao na… [Are you afraid, despite being a Bajrangi? Come on, tell…]’
‘Dar ki baat nahi hai. Tum Dal mein ao toh sahi, mere hi nahi sabke bare mein pata chalega! [It’s not a matter of fear. You become a part of the Dal, you’ll get to know all the stories.]’ On his face was a resolve to not say a word about it, a resolve that came from external factors. Deep down within, it seemed, he was itching to tell the stories.
Dileep agreed, ‘Theek hai mama, maine soch liya hai. Main kal Bajrang Dal join karunga. [All right Uncle, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll join the Bajrang Dal tomorrow.]’
Mama was ecstatic. Dileep was tentative about other people’s acceptance, but Mama assured him of it. I don’t know how, but this convesation encouraged Dileep to ask a really good question. ‘Mama, mera ek dost hai. Bahut hi achcha dost! Lekin who Mussalman hai. Kya use Dal join kara sakte hain? [Uncle, I’ve a very good friend, but he’s Muslim. Can the Dal let him join with me?]’
Silence.
‘Azam bahut hi achcha dost hai Mama… [Azam is a very good friend, Uncle…]’
‘Tum samajhte nahin ho Dileep. Gadbad ho jayegi. [You don’t understand, Dileep. It’ll be an issue.]’
‘Kya gadbad hogi, Mama? Jo main karunga woh bhi vaisa hi karega. Ye sab ap mujh pe chhod do. [What issue can it be, Uncle? He’ll do whatever I do. You can leave all that on me.]’
‘Woh baat nahi hai, Dileep. Mussalman hokar… [It’s not about that, Dileep. Being a Muslim…]’
‘Achcha tum hi batao. Tumhara koi Mussalman dost nahin hai? [Okay you tell me. Don’t you have a Muslim friend?]’
‘Nahin! [No!]’
‘Ek bhi nahin? Aisa kaise ho sakta hai, Mama? [Not even one? How’s that possible, Uncle?]’
‘Are main keh raha hun nahin hai! In Mussalmanon se dosti ho hi nahin sakti! [I’m telling you there isn’t! You can’t be friendly with these Muslims!]’
‘School mein bhi nahin? Tab toh raha hoga koi na koi… [Not even in school? There must have been someone or the other back then…]’
‘Mujhe toh tabhi se in salon se nafrat thi! [I had hated those bastards even back then!]’
‘Bina ek ko bhi jane? Kaisi baatein karte ho, Mama! [Without knowing any of them personally? What are you saying, Uncle!]’
‘Sab janta hun main… Tum abhi so jao. Kal tumhara rajyabhishek hoga! [I know them very well… You go to sleep now. Tomorrow you’ll be appointed to the kingdom!]’
—
Under the blanket, I had my doubts and fears over Dileep’s recent resolution. I hadn’t known him for long enough, but I thought I knew him enough to not do something like this. I pretended to be fast asleep when a satisfied Mama declared they should both sleep towards the great dawn that’d change their lives.
The lights were switched off and blankets stretched over everyone when I heard Mama asking softly, ‘Dileep, ye apke dost ko bhi Dal join kara dete? [Dileep, why don’t we try to get your friend to join the Dal too?]’
‘Mujhe subah uthkar baat karne do, Mama. [Let me talk to him in the morning, Uncle.]’
I didn’t want the night to get over. I didn’t want to discuss anything. Mama seemed too dangerous a man to argue with. All I wanted was to leave.
The sun rose and so did we. Mama greeted me with a ‘Suprabhat’ but I merely nodded. I wanted a moment with Dileep alone but Mama was always around. While I peacefully sipped a cup of tea, he walked up to me and proposed again like the night, ‘Aiye, kuchh baat-cheet ho jaye… [Come, let’s have a chat…]’
‘Ap chaliye, main ata hun [You go ahead, I’ll join you in a minute],’ I said, but I never went. Instead, I went into the bathroom and stayed in there rather long, hoping Mama would get the message.
The message he might have got, but that didn’t deter Mama. He kept trying to talk to me, and I went on avoiding him till about lunch time. I was supposed to leave with Dileep after lunch and was afraid Mama would create trouble at lunch.
While we ate together, Bajrangi Mama didn’t say a thing. I wasn’t complaining, but it constantly seemed I had my lunch on a knife’s edge. When we left hurriedly post-lunch, Mama did come to see us off but didn’t say anything to me; instead, what he chose to give me was a menacing look.
All I said in reply was, ‘Namaste Mama!’
—
Sitting pillion on Dileep’s bike, I asked him about ten minutes later, ‘What happened? Mama talked to you about me?’
‘Yeah. And I told him you hated Bajrangis and were not very religious,’ he informed very matter-of-factly.
‘So?’ I was anxious.
‘He immediately offered to arrange for a few chaps who would beat you up and teach you a lesson.’
‘Really? He said that?’
‘Promptly.’
‘Then…?’
‘I told him that wouldn’t help and promised to talk to you myselelf.’
‘Oh… and are you joining Bajrang Dal?’
He smiled, ‘Tomorrow, I told him!’
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AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Bajrang Dal is a right-wing Hindu fundamentalist organization. It is the youth wing of the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP) and is based on the ideology of Hindutva. Those who join the outfit are often called Bajrangis.
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