Mamta Kalia
Mamta Kalia Mamta Kalia
like calling out the names of all those people. Those who came to eat meat secretly at night, in daylight observed untouchability in front of everybody. One of these was Teja Taga. Many people took loans from him. He demanded pork and liquor before he would give the loan. He was fond of the heavy, very hot, spiced food cooked in the Bhangi households. Pitaji had taken a loan from him once. He had offered him country liquor that day. And pork. Sucking at the pork slices; his face had resembled a spotted dog’s. His eyes red from drinking, had looked satanic. His interest rates were so high that one could spend a whole lifetime paying the interest, and the principal would remain untouched. Most of the residents of the Bhangi basti were drowning in debt. Hence they could not afford to protest too much against any injustice done to them. Most people of our basti suffered everything in silence. Honour and prestige had no meaning for them. Being threatened and controlled by the higherups was an everyday occurrence for the basti dwellers. Jasbir had returned empty-handed from Bagdogra one day. Let alone money, he didn’t even have half-decent clothes on his body. Despite working all these years in Tirath Ram & Company, his hands were empty. Defeated and tired, he began to do wage labour in the village. The situation of our family was deteriorating rapidly. Meanwhile, Janesar had also got married. Once again we had had to borrow money from Teja Taga for the wedding. 20 :: April-June 2010 Mama had called Jasbir to Dehradun. Mama was a sanitation worker in the Dehradun municipality. He also worked at eight or ten homes as a scavenger. He had just one son, Surjan. In the beginning, Jasbir worked under Mama. Afterwards, he found a permanent job in the Survey of India. Although it didn’t pay a lot, at least it provided some security. A regular income boosts a person’s morale. Jasbir began to develop self-confidence after joining the Survey of India. The days of the rainy season were hellish. The lanes filled up with mud, making walking very difficult. The mud was full of pigs’ excrement, which would begin to stink after the rain stopped. Flies and mosquitoes thrived like clouds of locusts. It became extremely difficult to go outside. Our arms and legs would get smeared with dirt. The feet became mangy. The space between the toes filled up with reddish sores. Once these sores started to itch, they would itch nonstop. The lanes were full of muddy water for months. There was no other way to get to school except through crossing these mudfilled lanes. There were several johris around our locality and their water would seep into the lanes. There was one well in our basti, People had raised money to get it cemented. Both the plinth and the parapet of the well were quite high. Despite this safeguard, the water in the well was full of long worms during the rainy season. We had no other alternative but to drink that water. We did not have the right to take water from the well of the Tagas.
It rained a lot in the year 1962. All the homes of our locality were made of clay. The non-stop rain that fell over many days was disastrous for these clay houses. Our house had sprung leaks all over. We would set a pot under the leak. Every time a drop fell in the pot it made a sound: tup, tup. We had to stay awake during these rainy nights. A fear constantly dogged us: who knew when a wall might collapse. Sometimes a huge big hole would suddenly open up in the ceiling, and to close such a hole was a very difficult job. Climbing up on the roof of the clay houses was a very dangerous undertaking. One night, when it was raining cats and dogs, a big hole opened up in our roof. I was entrusted with the job of going up on the roof as I weighed the least in our family. Since the rain was pouring down on me, I could not see a thing in the pitch dark. Placing my feet on Pitaji’s shoulders, I climbed up on the roof. Pitaji guided me from below, ‘Careful Munshiji ... steady feet... Don’t walk towards the middle... Stay near the wall.’ I had a big lump of clay in one hand while I looked for the hole with the other, in complete darkness. Pitaji called out to me non-stop, ‘Munshiji, have you found the hole?’ At last I succeeded, found the gap and sealed it with the clod in my hand. I had a very hard time climbing down after closing the hole. I could not keep my eyes open in the pouring rain. As I was slowly climbing down, orienting myself by Pitaji’s voice, my foot slipped. For a second I felt I was up in the air. But Pitaji’s experienced eyes had seen me even in that pitch dark and I had managed to regain my balance in his strong grip. My. screams had brought my mother out, and she was relieved to see me safe. I was shivering from the cold. My mother wiped me dry with a cloth and set me down by the chulha. That night a huge piece of our baithak had collapsed. Pitaji and Ma had not slept for a second. Many homes had fallen down in our basti. People were screaming and shouting. Pitaji had gone out and shouted, ‘Mamu... Is everything all right?’ Mamu had yelled in a voice as strong as my father’s, ‘Everything is all right... the back shed has fallen down.’ A big commotion started at the crack of dawn in the colony. Everybody was out, looking for a safe place. The rain was continuing to pour. The remaining houses could collapse any minute. Pitaji had gone towards the Tagas’ houses and he had returned very soon. ‘Hurry up,’ he called. ‘I have got the baithak of Mamraj opened up.’ Ma gathered up some essentials in a hurry, and we left for Mamraj Taga’s baithak, our belongings perched on our heads and our bodies drenched in the rain. Mamraj’s baithak had been locked up for years. No one used it. Even the plaster on the walls had crumbled. Still it was a sanctuary. We hadn’t even put down our stuff in Mamraj Taga’s baithak, when another thirty or forty people came in after us. The rest of the people of our April-June 2010 :: 21
- Page 1 and 2: A Journal of Mahatma Gandhi Antarra
- Page 3 and 4: Contents Focus LANGUAGE DISCOURSE W
- Page 5 and 6: Editor's Note Those who have a pass
- Page 7 and 8: Focus JOOTHAN Om Prakash Valmiki Tr
- Page 9 and 10: unwarranted. Ram Singh and Sukkhan
- Page 11 and 12: angry that his dense moustache was
- Page 13 and 14: place where uplas or cow dung cakes
- Page 15 and 16: He had entered the cowsheds of the
- Page 17 and 18: that she kept with great care with
- Page 19: to lose touch with those companions
- Page 23 and 24: was cooked at home, we all got very
- Page 25 and 26: Discourse JOOTHAN: A DALIT LITERARY
- Page 27 and 28: in the present. These are memories
- Page 29 and 30: sun and the needle pricks of the sh
- Page 31 and 32: as well as the rhetorical use of th
- Page 33 and 34: he used to come to our house in Alm
- Page 35 and 36: although drawing its special charac
- Page 37 and 38: the forests, or the discovery of la
- Page 39 and 40: oth the above-mentioned tendencies
- Page 41 and 42: enterprising elements with more cap
- Page 43 and 44: quite opposite to them. This has on
- Page 45 and 46: considerable “reverse flow”, th
- Page 47 and 48: on the basis of a new model. This n
- Page 49 and 50: Our mind Clouds with the din of Loo
- Page 51 and 52: He’s not born in any castle- In t
- Page 53 and 54: Such Is The Time Such is this time
- Page 55 and 56: manning machines returning home, af
- Page 57 and 58: I have to tell them each time that
- Page 59 and 60: Said—I used to love this man. Had
- Page 61 and 62: Poetry FIVE POEMS Nilesh Raghuvansh
- Page 63 and 64: How dear it is to hear him so! His
- Page 65 and 66: Books Never willed anybody for a gi
- Page 67 and 68: Discourse POST MODERNISM: A CRITICA
- Page 69 and 70: (Daniel Bell), or ‘post-modern ti
like calling out the names of all those<br />
people. Those who came to eat meat<br />
secretly at night, in daylight observed<br />
untouchability in front of everybody.<br />
One of these was Teja Taga. Many<br />
people took loans from him. He demanded<br />
pork and liquor before he would give<br />
the loan. He was fond of the heavy,<br />
very hot, spiced food cooked in the<br />
Bhangi households. Pitaji had taken a<br />
loan from him once. He had offered him<br />
country liquor that day. And pork.<br />
Sucking at the pork slices; his face had<br />
resembled a spotted dog’s. His eyes red<br />
from drinking, had looked satanic. His<br />
interest rates were so high that one could<br />
spend a whole lifetime paying the interest,<br />
and the principal would remain<br />
untouched. Most of the residents of the<br />
Bhangi basti were drowning in debt. Hence<br />
they could not afford to protest too<br />
much against any injustice done to them.<br />
Most people of our basti suffered<br />
everything in silence. Honour and<br />
prestige had no meaning for them. Being<br />
threatened and controlled by the higherups<br />
was an everyday occurrence for the<br />
basti dwellers.<br />
Jasbir had returned empty-handed<br />
from Bagdogra one day. Let alone money,<br />
he didn’t even have half-decent clothes<br />
on his body. Despite working all these<br />
years in Tirath Ram & Company, his<br />
hands were empty. Defeated and tired,<br />
he began to do wage labour in the village.<br />
The situation of our family was<br />
deteriorating rapidly. Meanwhile, Janesar<br />
had also got married. Once again we<br />
had had to borrow money from Teja<br />
Taga for the wedding.<br />
20 :: April-June 2010<br />
Mama had called Jasbir to Dehradun.<br />
Mama was a sanitation worker in the<br />
Dehradun municipality. He also worked<br />
at eight or ten homes as a scavenger.<br />
He had just one son, Surjan. In the<br />
beginning, Jasbir worked under Mama.<br />
Afterwards, he found a permanent job<br />
in the Survey of India. Although it didn’t<br />
pay a lot, at least it provided some<br />
security. A regular income boosts a<br />
person’s morale. Jasbir began to develop<br />
self-confidence after joining the Survey<br />
of India.<br />
The days of the rainy season were<br />
hellish. The lanes filled up with mud,<br />
making walking very difficult. The mud<br />
was full of pigs’ excrement, which would<br />
begin to stink after the rain stopped.<br />
Flies and mosquitoes thrived like clouds<br />
of locusts. It became extremely difficult<br />
to go outside. Our arms and legs would<br />
get smeared with dirt. The feet became<br />
mangy. The space between the toes filled<br />
up with reddish sores. Once these sores<br />
started to itch, they would itch nonstop.<br />
The lanes were full of muddy water<br />
for months. There was no other way<br />
to get to school except through crossing<br />
these mudfilled lanes. There were several<br />
johris around our locality and their water<br />
would seep into the lanes. There was<br />
one well in our basti, People had raised<br />
money to get it cemented. Both the plinth<br />
and the parapet of the well were quite<br />
high. Despite this safeguard, the water<br />
in the well was full of long worms during<br />
the rainy season. We had no other<br />
alternative but to drink that water. We<br />
did not have the right to take water<br />
from the well of the Tagas.