This is a fairly old write-up, written soon after Rafat and Sarita's Boston visit. This note probably puts my Bhopal visit in a better context.
Its been 3 days that Sarita and Rafat left Boston. And i am still in shock, trying to realize who they were for me, and what I was for them. To start with, i was completely taken aback by the energy and unconditional love these girls had to offer all of us. No inhibitions, no judgments, no expectations.. just pure affection for people they don't even know, a strange form of respect for everyone around them, perfectly in balance with the respect they had for themselves. The strangest and the most shocking aspect of all of this was actually this perfect balance that they struck. I can tell from my own life that every time i attempted such an act, i found myself facing contradictions. In contrast, the simplicity with which the girls managed to synch the two shook me completely.. are u kidding me?? these are just 15 year old kids!!! Will I be ever able to see life the way they do?! Am i capable of offering such unconditional love? Will i ever be a part of "them"? But the bigger "shock" probably needed some time to sink in. And that's what is probably making me write this note to myself. May be 20 years down the line, this deep cut I am bearing now will be fleshed out by newer tissues developed by my thoughts, for the better or the worse. This note will then, hopefully, at least remind me of the cuts I had once. The girls left me wondering: "where do I fit as an actor in this whole play? what should my role be?" At this point, I can imagine 2 basic roles i could take up later on in my life. Lets do a thought experiment. Assume that there's an insulated box, with 2 chambers filled with a gas whose particles can take decisions, the chambers being separated by an insulating partition, which is free to move along the length of the box. The partition is kind of semi-permeable, in the sense that it takes a lot of effort for the particles to move from Chamber B to Chamber A. Also that there is a heating system in each of these chambers, and that these systems can be controlled by the particles in each chamber. Also, assume that empiricals like the Laws of Thermodynamics hold in our world. By divine accident (?) i am a particle which landed up in chamber B, which, it turns out, has its heater functioning at the highest level, whereas chamber A's heater is almost dysfunctional, which is leading to the partition getting moved so as to shrink Chamber A with time. Since I have been brought up as a believer in stable equilibrium, i am driven to help towards restoring the balance. There are 2 distinct roles that I could take up. I could either try and migrate into Chamber A, and turn on the heating there, or i could stay in Chamber B, and turn its heater down a bit. The natural question is which of these roles suits me the best? Since i somehow like the letter A more than the letter B, my heart urges me to try and migrate, whereas my brain instructs me otherwise, since there is a big time-tested evidence that i would almost surely not make it across the partition in the first place. This is the conflict i have been going through for the last 3 days, after the girls left. And as usual, Gourab De takes up my mom's role, trying to pull me out of these troubled waters, and what could be a better place to talk about this than 1369?!! At least tonight, i believe in staying back. The first thing i realize today is that i can't possibly take up the role that the girls did. As Utpal Dutt had said in Agantuk, "...years before i left home, Rabindranath, Marx, Freud had entered my marrow, which is why i need 'field-notes'. I wouldn't need them if i were a tribal myself". As always, Agantuk continues to be strangely relevant in my own life! There's no escaping the fact that Rabindranath, Marx, Freud have made their way into my blood, as they have done to almost everyone around me in Chamber B. And i have spent 25 long years towards acquiring this knowledge, whether its for good or bad, that's besides the point. So may be i am more suited to turn down the heating in B. This role, although seemingly more efficient, is probably much more traumatic than the other one, since this means my heart and my mind will have to fight this battle as long as i live. As Rabs pointed out correctly, that's possibly why I, as a volunteer of AID, is much more aggressive about my beliefs, than these girls who visited us. Although this seems counter-intuitive to start with, since I don't live in the conditions in which they have to, it looks like this relentless battle between the heart and the mind is what adds to my aggression, my reservations and disbelieves. My resentments breed from a sense of guilt that I have for being part of this Chamber B in the first place. And this trauma will probably be chronic for me henceforth. But for once, i may have to side with my mind against my heart, since here its not just me who has stakes in my decision anymore, i am part of a much bigger ecosystem when it comes down to this. One satisfying corollary this has is the legitimacy that it gives to my life till now. The knowledge I have earned, the culture I am part of, the profession I have chosen, everything is suddenly meaningful, and I am suddenly not so frustrated that i chose something like "Math" as a "career" if i might say, as opposed to being a doctor, a lawyer, or even a sweeper, who somehow seem more relevant than me when it comes to serving communities. My academics is what validates my place in this society, a society that has developed its normalizations in a way such that it excludes, for example, those 2 girls from itself. And today, I feel a necessity for what I have been doing in my life so far, a necessity not just in terms of my own pleasure and ego, but a necessity which involves much more than that, a necessity as basic as being able to be a part of this society, a necessity that legitimizes my very existence. As an aside, come to think of it, this is possibly what the caste-system was meant to do... provide people with an identity, which entailed their inclusion in the society. But as everyone knows, the consequences have been completely the opposite, for reasons that are part of a different story. When i write this short note, i feel privileged that i possibly have an audience for it, which is a consequence of my life so far, a thought that makes me feel happy, and validates what i wrote above, and also points out a direction to me. And that is the basic purpose of this account, providing myself with a direction on a day i might feel lost like the way i have been feeling for the last few days. Looking back at the conversations i had along these lines with my father sometime back, i now understand what he meant when he said "Do whatever you want to do, but don't get emotionally attached, because that's something that will hamper your work itself". I wont ever be able to measure my parents!! They somehow always think ahead of me!!! And this also, at least for the moment, settles my first question in this note: "Will I be ever able to see life the way they do?!" The temporary, untested answer I have is "Possibly Not". But even if I am never able to treat life the way these kids do, what is important is that I realize my incapacity. What is even more important is that I know the language to be able to describe my deficiency to the people around me because of what I have learned in my life so far. And perhaps that's where I am meant to work. Although my brain won't allow my heart to have its own way, it at least knows what my heart wants. That's a happy story there! :-) Anyway, back to my K3 surfaces. At least i feel happy at the moment for being able to weigh in favour of one idea against the other. A feeling of reassurance, as opposed to the uncertainty i was going through for the last few days. Thanks to the 2 girls from Chamber A, who posed the question in the first place, and thanks to Gourab De from Chamber B, who had some form of a solution to it. Just goes to show how relevant each of them is for the other. At some level, its humorous that there would be such contradictory forces in nature. Probably that's what people call dark humour, only that its really pitch dark these days.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
To and From Bhopal
Day 1:
Rafat, Rafat's father and Sarita were waiting at Bhopal station for us when we called in from a 20-min away Habibgunj to check if they were there.
The glow in their eyes and the smiles and giggles, and the non-stop meaningless chit-chat made us forget the previous 2 sleepless nights and the longish journey from Boston to Bhopal. I felt like I was finally home.
We went to Rafat's house. A really beautiful house I must say. I wasn't expecting such a spacious and well-kept house in an old urban settlement like Bhopal. To start with, it was a bit awkward, because clearly we were being treated as “people from America” and not just as Rafat's friends. And it took me a while to reach a comfort zone, more about that later.
Rafat's father runs a fast-food shop nearby. And both him and his wife have been very active in the Bhopal campaign. They had even gone for a dharna at Nandigram.
We handed over Rafat and Sarita their gifts from Boston, and they went ecstatic with joy. Sarita said she was going to take a night-out and reply to the letters from the Bostonians, so that I could take them back. Clearly, they were much more awed by the letters people had written them, than by the fancy cards we had bought for them. One of my beliefs just got reinforced, watching them read out those letters, and going again and again through the photo albums.
Sarita left soon, since she had to be home before late. Rafat's dad went back to his shop so that his youngest son Aamir (Khan!!), who was till then sitting there, could come back home. And Rafat's mom resigned into a dark kitchen to cook for her guests.
So it was us, Rafat, her sister Yasmeen, and Aamir who were left to entertain ourselves.
Next, I decided I should take a shower and Shock Number 1: the bathroom is kind of open! And I was at a fix for a while, but had to get over it soon.
Aamir is a really nice kid.. very articulate eyes, and a bright smile! He kept giving these admiring looks.. “aaplog Amreeka me rehte hain?!!!”. This made me recount my childhood, when I would go out of my mind when one of our family friends who was touring Europe then, used to send me postcards from various European cities. It was weird to suddenly realize that I was at the other end of the table now.
Soon Rafat's dad came back, and we had dinner which was just too good to describe. We then talked a bit about the campaign. These are the people who had walked all the way to Delhi, sat there for months, got themselves arrested with the police, and made a huge impact in the media. I was sitting here in Bhopal, listening to their accounts firsthand. It took me quite some time to wrap my head around it.
The stories were nothing new (thanks to Rafat, Sarita, Rachana, and Sattu bhaiya, who had toured the US earlier this year, and had described these stories to us). But there was something new and inexplicable about being physically here in Bhopal, listening to these people, drinking the same water as they do, and every time you were approached with a glass of water by someone, you couldn't say “No, thanks!” although you weren't thirsty.
We were the joined by 3 other friends of this family, Naeem, Shoaib and Shahid, who are also quite involved in the campaign. They stayed for a while, and chatted. It was now that I started feeling more comfortable talking, because we were suddenly talking about cricket, and how IPL was bad, and how baseball is an idiotic game to play, and all of a sudden, none of us were “from America”. These were really wonderful people, who said they'll take us to a nearby killa day after tomorrow.
Shoaib actually came and grabbed my hands (in spite of my warning him) which was still “dirty” from the dinner we just had, “Arre chhodiye ji, bas khana hi to hai!!”
I won't possibly be able to do that to anyone. Later I learned that his wife was affected directly by the gas, and was bed-ridden.
There is something weird about these people, something that I cannot explain. The way they just show up and sit and chat for hours at someone's place, grab your dirty hands because he wants to, turns down an offer for dinner because he had expected chicken instead of just daal chaawal,.. there is something which makes them act the way they want to, without holding back.
Just when I was trying to take this in, I called up my parents to let them know that I had reached Bhopal safely, and one of the suggestions that I got was “keep your passport safe”. And things cleared out almost instantaneously... trust, belief in other human beings, being able to laugh with a sparkle in the eyes even when your wife is bed-ridden from the gas-disaster, .. all of these probably come from having “nothing-to-lose”. They don't own a passport which they are afraid of losing, they couldn't care less, in fact, these people own very little to mistrust anyone. Whereas the society where me or my parents come from, has just too much ownership to lose, too many reasons to not trust someone.
I may not be entirely correct with the above, but thats the way I feel tonight.
Aamir's bright face, and his hurried movements to bring us water, mosquito coils, pen and paper, keep coming back to my mind as I try to sleep... is all of this because he doesn't have a room of his own, where he can go and “chill” since he is “freaked out” by 2 strangers in his house?!! May be, may be not..
Day 2:
I woke up with cocks crowing all around me :D and the 4:45 ajaan in the nearby mosque. This house is actually owned by a person who doesn't live here. He had tried to clear the place off his tenants, and got rid of most of them. But Rafat's parents had filed a suit, and have been living here since. The landlord has disappeared, and they don't have to pay rent any more.
Today I met a person who cannot speak, and is affected by the gas too. He has severe chest pain, etc. Rafat's father introduced us to him, and he went and bought tea for us. I felt my eyes getting moist. There was this person right in front of me, a complete stranger to me, and me to him, I don't even know his name, I never knew him before, and will probably never see him again, yet he bought this glass of hot steaming tea for me, and this is when he cannot even pay for his own treatment, at a decent hospital. I couldn't understand his sign languages, and could only see that he was really excited about something. Rafat's dad later explained that he was talking about the good places nearby that we should visit. This helplessness was not new to me. I have been going through this ever since I landed here. I somehow cannot communicate to these people, I don't really understand their “language”. And while I tried to talk to this person through his sign languages, it was as if my helplessness was standing in front of me.. right there!
We were told how one of Rafat's neighbours had committed suicide because of the amount of debt he was in. I didn't know how to react.. yet again!
We went to Sarita's place later in the day. And then she took us to UC factory and Sambhavana. I don't think I can express it in words, I am sure the pictures we took will do a much better job, so I think I'll leave the talking to them.
One point worth mentioning: We passed through a large slum on our way, called Shankarnagar. We were told that most of the kids there do not go to school, and have taken to child labour.
One last remark before I sleep: As Garga da was saying a couple of days back, this level of abject poverty and deprivation destroys people, their souls. Its totally untrue that human beings learn to live in whatever conditions you put them in.. they just can't!! These kinds of conditions which exist in Bhopal, and in so many other places in our huge “shining” country, leave deep dents in the personal constitution of the people living there. Most of these people share just one common dream.. that is to exist! But even that is incredibly difficult, in fact impossible for all practical purposes, thanks to the society human beings have graduated into.
The table fan in our room isn't working properly, and I am being amused by Rafat's incessant rantings against the mechanic, how he should be thrashed up for not fixing the fan properly, and Rafat's 2 brothers running around, worried, and Rafat's dad going for the mechanic,.. all this happening at midnight.. talk about relatives and talk about strangers!
By the way, today I ate the hottest curry ever in my life. This was a chicken curry prepared by Rafat's dad, Jabbar bhai, and all our eyes and noses were flowing. Oh, and also the bitterest thing ever too.. this herb grown at Sambhavana, it CANNOT get worse! We had to spit all over the place in disgust, (of course behind the back of Manmohan, our over-enthusiastic guide at Sambhavana, who had given us this one leaf with such an innocent look, and who chewed up one whole such plant without turning a hair!!)
Days 3,4:
I am on my way to Calcutta, cutting across a beautiful forest in MP, and there is too much noise in my head to let me wait till I reach home to write this last bit of my note, which is why I was forced to borrow this pen from the person sitting next to me, although I was almost caught in an argument with him on Chhattisgarh a while back.
Anyway, coming back to Bhopal:
I am totally exhausted and drained, both emotionally and psychologically, to say the least. The flurry of events, particularly over the last couple of days, have been stoning me down to death. As the sad, and at the same time, bright faces of Rafat, Yasmeen, Jabbar bhai and Aamir Khan got lost amidst so many others as our train slowly crawled out of a receding crowded Bhopal station, I cried. Yes, I cried like a kid, standing there on one of the footholds of our train, and made sure that I cried my heart out. The reason was not just that I was leaving the Khan family behind as I was being taken away by this Bhopal-HWH Express. The reason was that I was being taken away from “their” world back to “my” world by a system which I cannot control. The reason was my helplessness again, which only allows me to be a mere spectator. All I can do is watch the receding faces and wave at them, and if I am really lucky, may be cry. Thats why I made sure that I cried my heart out, because you don't always get to cry.
But now when I am more in control of myself, and when the untouched beauty of an old forest has calmed my mind down with her kind touch of golden yellow light of a setting sun, I can sit back and think.
And my thoughts are like those television shows we used to watch as kids, where a telecast was interrupted frequently by transmission losses, because of winds messing around with the antennae on the terrace. I keep thinking about how I now feel that I can actually be a part of a community like this if I try hard enough (this had been one of my biggest worries over the last few months, and I cannot explain how relieved and happy I am to have realized this), I keep thinking about Sarita's paintings, Rafat's persona, Yasmeen's shayari, Aamir Khan's haircut, Jabbar bhai's coolness, Shahid bhai's kusti obsession, Naeem bhai's one-liners, Saadique bhai's non-stop antics, Vikas bhai's fictitious (or may be not!) girlfriends, and the list keeps on going.. . But every 5 minutes or so, I keep getting flashes of the little boy who has to sit for the whole day on a rock on the way up the hill to the Raisen fort, to sell water pouches to the visitors, the 8-9 year old working at a restaurant near Mazaar Sharif, who was being rebuked by his employer because a customer had left without paying the bill, and was sent after the guy to recover the money (I don't know what would happen to him in case he failed to get the money). I keep seeing the face of the 5-6-year old girl, who was begging near the Dargaah, and kept pulling my shirt, and although I wanted to empty my wallet to her, I didn't, because I thought there was no point. I ended up giving her 2 toffees which I had bought earlier that day, and kept watching her as she hurriedly crossed the street to give one of the toffees to another kid like her, and they started frantically tearing off the wrappers.. I removed my gaze from them, could not watch any more. I wish I could paint her face, but I am not capable enough.
Since this is mainly a note to myself, I can afford to be unorganised, and will now try to remind myself of some of the friends I have made over the last few days:
Rafat: If only she was 7-8 years older, I would have proposed her! I always thought I was born after my time, but on this occasion I regret having born before my time. I never thought I would come across someone like her ever, because I always believed that characters like her can only exist in a novel. After having met her, I have no more complaints to make against life, I am happy, just happy. She is now my answer to anyone who uses terms like “slum-dweller”, “lower class” or even “2nd generation survivor from Bhopal”. She is Rafat, one of the finest characters I have had the privilege to meet. I can't imagine someone running a home as much as she does at this age, doing her studies at the same time, fighting for the rights of her people, writing whenever she finds some spare time, and all of this with an ever-lasting bight smile, and eyes that can melt stones. She is this strange mix of courage, force and kindness at the same time. I cannot even imagine to be able to pen her down. She is probably a perfect example that dignity and assertiveness can go together with humility, kindness and empathy for everyone, absolutely everyone.
Today, after waking up, I was actually scared of looking at her eyes. I didn't know how to take leave from her... Yes, I was scared of her eyes. My breaking down started the moment she pushed into my hands the ear-rings she had bought for my sister. (I had only asked her once about what Bhopal memento should I buy for my sister). I didn't know what to say or think, I just had a million questions buzzing in my head.. Why? How? And so on. I kept staring at her blankly. Where does so much empathy come from? How can someone at her position empathize so much with me? I always thought I had to be the one empathizing with her since I am one of the “haves” and she is one of the “have-nots” . But I was so terribly terribly wrong! Rafat made me laugh at myself with pity,.. there she was, reminding me every moment that, in fact, I was the one who could use some empathy. And I broke down. It has been like this throughout the last 3-4 days, I have gotten tired of taking, taking and taking, so much so that I have stopped thinking about “giving back”. All I can give back is perhaps a dry smile, and may be a few wet tears, nothing more. I feel like I am the poorest person on earth, I have nothing to give to anyone, nothing at all.
Rafat will always stand out as one in a billion for me. I can't help laughing out loud when I think today of my first introduction with her.. “Meet Rafat, one of the 2nd generation survivors from Bhopal”. Ha ha!
Yasmeen: Rafat's younger sister. She writes Urdu shayari!! and is a great painter too! We made her pose like a wandering soul at the Raisen killa, and she was giggling about it ever since.
Aamir Khan: He had taken up the entire responsibility of hosting us, entertaining us, being our local guide, shopping for us, making us eat beyond capacity (to be fair, in this last thing he was assisted by the entire family! No one held back!!), fetching water for us from the local tank (one of ICJB's achievements) even before the sun came out, not letting even one mosquito bite us by walking around with a Mortein coil, explaining to us the way Chingaari and Sambhavana work, the amount of work Sattu bhaiya has been doing in the slums there, and so on.. he never stopped talking. But he sucks at mobile-cricket, although he wouldn't admit it, and keeps trying relentlessly to win. Oh, and also, he takes around 2 hours to bath!
Jabbar bhai: One of the coolest dads I have seen. He cooked one of the hottest chicken curries I have ever had, organized one of the funnest trips I have ever been part of, killed one of his pet chicken so that we could have meat! (more on that later), went out at midnight to fix the table-fan in our room when it stopped working, sported a Save Darfur t-shirt (which made me feel so proud of I don't know what!), fetched buckets after buckets of water (with the help of Aamir Khan) which, after a point of time, embarrassed us to the limit. He seemed to have transcended his generation, and plays a big role in his kids' lives as well, at the same time maintains being a not-so-much-nonsense father, which I think is why he is so cool!
Rafat's mom: A “mom”, which says a lot about her, and an “Activist”, which says the rest. She fed us like there was no tomorrow, (one day she made us 2 breakfasts, because she somehow felt that we would be hungry later on!!) and yet again, we were embarrassed every now and then. She used to make us tea every 2 hours or so, because, I think, she thought we might be afraid of drinking their water! How can someone like me respond to this except possibly shed tears on the foothold of an express train...
Rafat's second brother: Just like the other kids in the family.. lovely! He kept smiling the whole time, got really excited about a prospective fishing tour (which sadly didn't happen) and tried to teach us mobile-cricket, which he totally rocks at!
Naeem bhai: Rocks at one-liners! Can keep you entertained for hours! Fights kusti! Can do push-ups and chin-ups over a 100-feet deep well!! Is very proud of his city and his mosque.. his eyes were shining when he was showing us around the mosque!
Shaheed bhai: Fights kusti too, and you can tell from his looks that he does. The only male member in his family, so his mom stays super-tensed. He is not allowed to eat or drink outside. He had lied to his mother when he came with us for the trip. Its really funny to see a wrestler getting so scared of his mom.
Shoaib Bhai: His wife is gas-affected and bed-ridden. He runs a cosmetics shop. Again, a very kind soul.
Saadiq bhai: THE entertainer! Its impossible to keep him shut. Hot-headed, but its really easy to calm him down. Plays antakshari with himself! You can't get bored when he is around. The kids are all huge fans of these guys, and for good reason!
There is a certain recklessness in these characters.. a glimpse of which we saw in Sarita when she visited Boston. I have been wondering where this comes from.
Does it come from a sense of indignation? Everyone in a community like this has to be assertive about one's own dignity. Unlike my community, dignity doesn't just automatically find recognition there. May be this assertiveness is what leads to such recklessness, fearlessness. Lets them speak their minds, without worrying about the consequences. Lets them do chin-ups in a well, without thinking twice.
Vikaas bhai: He works for the children's organisation. Was very inquisitive about America.
Manmohan, Ratna didi: They work at Sambhavana, particularly in the Ayurvedic garden. And with hyper-active people like them, no wonder why Sambhavana rocks! Manmohan gave us a full tour of the huge garden, described each and every plant that is grown there, and their uses. Then he did something which he needn't have done. He gave each of us a leaf of a plant which is used to cure fever. It tasted disgusting to say the least, the bitterest thing I have ever tasted. But Manmohan himself ate one whole plant, I have NO idea how!
Masjid and Dargaah: Rafat believes that your wishes are always heard to, if you ask sincerely for them at the Dargaah, and hence, now, I believe in it too. One of my beliefs that got reinforced (and hence has again made me extremely happy) in this trip is the importance of religion in people's lives. Jabbar bhai “qurbaan”-ed his chicken for us. In the beginning, I was a bit taken aback by this, and felt a little angry and sad. But when I thought more about it, I could see how I have outsourced my “sins”. I buy and cook chicken without any qualms, and here I am in disapproval of someone who actually has the heart to sacrifice his chicken for his guests. Where would such powers come from in a world devoid of religion? Science and rationality doesn't teach us this!
And this, I think, is exactly where science differs from religion, although science has probably been as holistic as religion. The difference is that science has not been able to account for the human element, which religion has to a great extent. I agree that organized religion has its own problems, but still, I think religion and culture are the biggest achievements of “human intelligence”, bigger than science. The reason behind this is that religion and culture are still bottom-up approaches to life, as opposed to science, which is necessarily top-down, which comes from some closed quarters and laboratories and government offices.
The biggest mosque in Asia: We visited this huge mosque, which Naeem bhai and Shahid bhai said is the largest in Asia. A wonderful piece of architecture.. and its of enormous size! I particularly liked the huge tree in the middle of the courtyard. This mosque is in New Bhopal, and to me it felt like an escape from the discomfort I was having otherwise in New Bhopal.
Visit to Sambhavana: Sambhavana is just too good, the people who work there are SO inspiring! I am sure the pictures that we took will do a better job than me writing about it here. I am tempted to write the next few lines here because I think they tie into some of the current issues being talked about in AID, which makes this kind of contextual. One of the feelings that I distinctively had after spending time at these places is that it’s hard to be benign to people who are from the outside world when you are so involved in a community like this. I grew really bitter about the outside world, momentarily, and this includes contempt towards myself too. Particularly because I am a part of the society these people are fighting against.
But at the same time, I believe that there has to be a dialogue between the 2 worlds. This is because one needs to mobilize opinion inside this other world regarding these issues as well, since most of these mechanisms of socio-economic oppressions are operated directly as well as indirectly from the so-called affluent, developed society. This space for communication or interaction is extremely hard to build for someone working, for instance, in Bhopal, since he/she is totally sucked into the community and work there. This, I think, is exactly where people like Kiran, Ravi or Aravinda come in. They have been part of both worlds over the years, and they understand the language of both kinds of people, which is why I whole-heartedly believe that they should be allowed, and also encouraged, to work the way they have been doing. You take away people like Ravi and Aravinda from AID-US, and I don't see how we can keep working as an organization doing grass-root development in India.
Old Bhopal vs. New Bhopal: We went to see New Bhopal on our way back from the Raisen killa. This was the first time that I felt I was out-of-place in a modern city like New Bhopal. I somehow didn't want to be there, I just wanted to go back to Rafat's place and get a cup of hot steaming tea. I was seeing the world through their eyes, and it was a completely different world. And here lies the greatness of someone like Rafat, who can transcend such disconnects. I think I can see what it feels like being a Rachana, but don't think I can ever see what it feels like being a Safreen 'Rafat' Khan.
Such dignity is what should lead us in our endeavours, because not only it gives a huge driving force, but also direction, so might as well follow dignity.
The last night in Bhopal:
The kids were helping their mom prepare meal for us even in the dead of the night, after returning from the killa, although everyone was tired like hell. Aamir Khan, as usual, got obsessed with the Mortein coil. Rafat walked upto me with a suit for Adrita which she and her mom had made... and I was left speechless... again! Disconnect disconnect.. what disconnect? When it comes to people like Rafat and her mom, no bridge is hard to build.
I didn't want to sleep, I wanted to sit there with the rest of the family, in their little courtyard, and take in every possible moment that I was allowed. But I had to sleep, for I was tired and I had a train to catch the next morning.
But I could hardly sleep, kept waking up every hour or so, and finally gave up at around 4:30. I brushed and sat outside, waiting for the ajaan.
Rafat, Rafat's father and Sarita were waiting at Bhopal station for us when we called in from a 20-min away Habibgunj to check if they were there.
The glow in their eyes and the smiles and giggles, and the non-stop meaningless chit-chat made us forget the previous 2 sleepless nights and the longish journey from Boston to Bhopal. I felt like I was finally home.
We went to Rafat's house. A really beautiful house I must say. I wasn't expecting such a spacious and well-kept house in an old urban settlement like Bhopal. To start with, it was a bit awkward, because clearly we were being treated as “people from America” and not just as Rafat's friends. And it took me a while to reach a comfort zone, more about that later.
Rafat's father runs a fast-food shop nearby. And both him and his wife have been very active in the Bhopal campaign. They had even gone for a dharna at Nandigram.
We handed over Rafat and Sarita their gifts from Boston, and they went ecstatic with joy. Sarita said she was going to take a night-out and reply to the letters from the Bostonians, so that I could take them back. Clearly, they were much more awed by the letters people had written them, than by the fancy cards we had bought for them. One of my beliefs just got reinforced, watching them read out those letters, and going again and again through the photo albums.
Sarita left soon, since she had to be home before late. Rafat's dad went back to his shop so that his youngest son Aamir (Khan!!), who was till then sitting there, could come back home. And Rafat's mom resigned into a dark kitchen to cook for her guests.
So it was us, Rafat, her sister Yasmeen, and Aamir who were left to entertain ourselves.
Next, I decided I should take a shower and Shock Number 1: the bathroom is kind of open! And I was at a fix for a while, but had to get over it soon.
Aamir is a really nice kid.. very articulate eyes, and a bright smile! He kept giving these admiring looks.. “aaplog Amreeka me rehte hain?!!!”. This made me recount my childhood, when I would go out of my mind when one of our family friends who was touring Europe then, used to send me postcards from various European cities. It was weird to suddenly realize that I was at the other end of the table now.
Soon Rafat's dad came back, and we had dinner which was just too good to describe. We then talked a bit about the campaign. These are the people who had walked all the way to Delhi, sat there for months, got themselves arrested with the police, and made a huge impact in the media. I was sitting here in Bhopal, listening to their accounts firsthand. It took me quite some time to wrap my head around it.
The stories were nothing new (thanks to Rafat, Sarita, Rachana, and Sattu bhaiya, who had toured the US earlier this year, and had described these stories to us). But there was something new and inexplicable about being physically here in Bhopal, listening to these people, drinking the same water as they do, and every time you were approached with a glass of water by someone, you couldn't say “No, thanks!” although you weren't thirsty.
We were the joined by 3 other friends of this family, Naeem, Shoaib and Shahid, who are also quite involved in the campaign. They stayed for a while, and chatted. It was now that I started feeling more comfortable talking, because we were suddenly talking about cricket, and how IPL was bad, and how baseball is an idiotic game to play, and all of a sudden, none of us were “from America”. These were really wonderful people, who said they'll take us to a nearby killa day after tomorrow.
Shoaib actually came and grabbed my hands (in spite of my warning him) which was still “dirty” from the dinner we just had, “Arre chhodiye ji, bas khana hi to hai!!”
I won't possibly be able to do that to anyone. Later I learned that his wife was affected directly by the gas, and was bed-ridden.
There is something weird about these people, something that I cannot explain. The way they just show up and sit and chat for hours at someone's place, grab your dirty hands because he wants to, turns down an offer for dinner because he had expected chicken instead of just daal chaawal,.. there is something which makes them act the way they want to, without holding back.
Just when I was trying to take this in, I called up my parents to let them know that I had reached Bhopal safely, and one of the suggestions that I got was “keep your passport safe”. And things cleared out almost instantaneously... trust, belief in other human beings, being able to laugh with a sparkle in the eyes even when your wife is bed-ridden from the gas-disaster, .. all of these probably come from having “nothing-to-lose”. They don't own a passport which they are afraid of losing, they couldn't care less, in fact, these people own very little to mistrust anyone. Whereas the society where me or my parents come from, has just too much ownership to lose, too many reasons to not trust someone.
I may not be entirely correct with the above, but thats the way I feel tonight.
Aamir's bright face, and his hurried movements to bring us water, mosquito coils, pen and paper, keep coming back to my mind as I try to sleep... is all of this because he doesn't have a room of his own, where he can go and “chill” since he is “freaked out” by 2 strangers in his house?!! May be, may be not..
Day 2:
I woke up with cocks crowing all around me :D and the 4:45 ajaan in the nearby mosque. This house is actually owned by a person who doesn't live here. He had tried to clear the place off his tenants, and got rid of most of them. But Rafat's parents had filed a suit, and have been living here since. The landlord has disappeared, and they don't have to pay rent any more.
Today I met a person who cannot speak, and is affected by the gas too. He has severe chest pain, etc. Rafat's father introduced us to him, and he went and bought tea for us. I felt my eyes getting moist. There was this person right in front of me, a complete stranger to me, and me to him, I don't even know his name, I never knew him before, and will probably never see him again, yet he bought this glass of hot steaming tea for me, and this is when he cannot even pay for his own treatment, at a decent hospital. I couldn't understand his sign languages, and could only see that he was really excited about something. Rafat's dad later explained that he was talking about the good places nearby that we should visit. This helplessness was not new to me. I have been going through this ever since I landed here. I somehow cannot communicate to these people, I don't really understand their “language”. And while I tried to talk to this person through his sign languages, it was as if my helplessness was standing in front of me.. right there!
We were told how one of Rafat's neighbours had committed suicide because of the amount of debt he was in. I didn't know how to react.. yet again!
We went to Sarita's place later in the day. And then she took us to UC factory and Sambhavana. I don't think I can express it in words, I am sure the pictures we took will do a much better job, so I think I'll leave the talking to them.
One point worth mentioning: We passed through a large slum on our way, called Shankarnagar. We were told that most of the kids there do not go to school, and have taken to child labour.
One last remark before I sleep: As Garga da was saying a couple of days back, this level of abject poverty and deprivation destroys people, their souls. Its totally untrue that human beings learn to live in whatever conditions you put them in.. they just can't!! These kinds of conditions which exist in Bhopal, and in so many other places in our huge “shining” country, leave deep dents in the personal constitution of the people living there. Most of these people share just one common dream.. that is to exist! But even that is incredibly difficult, in fact impossible for all practical purposes, thanks to the society human beings have graduated into.
The table fan in our room isn't working properly, and I am being amused by Rafat's incessant rantings against the mechanic, how he should be thrashed up for not fixing the fan properly, and Rafat's 2 brothers running around, worried, and Rafat's dad going for the mechanic,.. all this happening at midnight.. talk about relatives and talk about strangers!
By the way, today I ate the hottest curry ever in my life. This was a chicken curry prepared by Rafat's dad, Jabbar bhai, and all our eyes and noses were flowing. Oh, and also the bitterest thing ever too.. this herb grown at Sambhavana, it CANNOT get worse! We had to spit all over the place in disgust, (of course behind the back of Manmohan, our over-enthusiastic guide at Sambhavana, who had given us this one leaf with such an innocent look, and who chewed up one whole such plant without turning a hair!!)
Days 3,4:
I am on my way to Calcutta, cutting across a beautiful forest in MP, and there is too much noise in my head to let me wait till I reach home to write this last bit of my note, which is why I was forced to borrow this pen from the person sitting next to me, although I was almost caught in an argument with him on Chhattisgarh a while back.
Anyway, coming back to Bhopal:
I am totally exhausted and drained, both emotionally and psychologically, to say the least. The flurry of events, particularly over the last couple of days, have been stoning me down to death. As the sad, and at the same time, bright faces of Rafat, Yasmeen, Jabbar bhai and Aamir Khan got lost amidst so many others as our train slowly crawled out of a receding crowded Bhopal station, I cried. Yes, I cried like a kid, standing there on one of the footholds of our train, and made sure that I cried my heart out. The reason was not just that I was leaving the Khan family behind as I was being taken away by this Bhopal-HWH Express. The reason was that I was being taken away from “their” world back to “my” world by a system which I cannot control. The reason was my helplessness again, which only allows me to be a mere spectator. All I can do is watch the receding faces and wave at them, and if I am really lucky, may be cry. Thats why I made sure that I cried my heart out, because you don't always get to cry.
But now when I am more in control of myself, and when the untouched beauty of an old forest has calmed my mind down with her kind touch of golden yellow light of a setting sun, I can sit back and think.
And my thoughts are like those television shows we used to watch as kids, where a telecast was interrupted frequently by transmission losses, because of winds messing around with the antennae on the terrace. I keep thinking about how I now feel that I can actually be a part of a community like this if I try hard enough (this had been one of my biggest worries over the last few months, and I cannot explain how relieved and happy I am to have realized this), I keep thinking about Sarita's paintings, Rafat's persona, Yasmeen's shayari, Aamir Khan's haircut, Jabbar bhai's coolness, Shahid bhai's kusti obsession, Naeem bhai's one-liners, Saadique bhai's non-stop antics, Vikas bhai's fictitious (or may be not!) girlfriends, and the list keeps on going.. . But every 5 minutes or so, I keep getting flashes of the little boy who has to sit for the whole day on a rock on the way up the hill to the Raisen fort, to sell water pouches to the visitors, the 8-9 year old working at a restaurant near Mazaar Sharif, who was being rebuked by his employer because a customer had left without paying the bill, and was sent after the guy to recover the money (I don't know what would happen to him in case he failed to get the money). I keep seeing the face of the 5-6-year old girl, who was begging near the Dargaah, and kept pulling my shirt, and although I wanted to empty my wallet to her, I didn't, because I thought there was no point. I ended up giving her 2 toffees which I had bought earlier that day, and kept watching her as she hurriedly crossed the street to give one of the toffees to another kid like her, and they started frantically tearing off the wrappers.. I removed my gaze from them, could not watch any more. I wish I could paint her face, but I am not capable enough.
Since this is mainly a note to myself, I can afford to be unorganised, and will now try to remind myself of some of the friends I have made over the last few days:
Rafat: If only she was 7-8 years older, I would have proposed her! I always thought I was born after my time, but on this occasion I regret having born before my time. I never thought I would come across someone like her ever, because I always believed that characters like her can only exist in a novel. After having met her, I have no more complaints to make against life, I am happy, just happy. She is now my answer to anyone who uses terms like “slum-dweller”, “lower class” or even “2nd generation survivor from Bhopal”. She is Rafat, one of the finest characters I have had the privilege to meet. I can't imagine someone running a home as much as she does at this age, doing her studies at the same time, fighting for the rights of her people, writing whenever she finds some spare time, and all of this with an ever-lasting bight smile, and eyes that can melt stones. She is this strange mix of courage, force and kindness at the same time. I cannot even imagine to be able to pen her down. She is probably a perfect example that dignity and assertiveness can go together with humility, kindness and empathy for everyone, absolutely everyone.
Today, after waking up, I was actually scared of looking at her eyes. I didn't know how to take leave from her... Yes, I was scared of her eyes. My breaking down started the moment she pushed into my hands the ear-rings she had bought for my sister. (I had only asked her once about what Bhopal memento should I buy for my sister). I didn't know what to say or think, I just had a million questions buzzing in my head.. Why? How? And so on. I kept staring at her blankly. Where does so much empathy come from? How can someone at her position empathize so much with me? I always thought I had to be the one empathizing with her since I am one of the “haves” and she is one of the “have-nots” . But I was so terribly terribly wrong! Rafat made me laugh at myself with pity,.. there she was, reminding me every moment that, in fact, I was the one who could use some empathy. And I broke down. It has been like this throughout the last 3-4 days, I have gotten tired of taking, taking and taking, so much so that I have stopped thinking about “giving back”. All I can give back is perhaps a dry smile, and may be a few wet tears, nothing more. I feel like I am the poorest person on earth, I have nothing to give to anyone, nothing at all.
Rafat will always stand out as one in a billion for me. I can't help laughing out loud when I think today of my first introduction with her.. “Meet Rafat, one of the 2nd generation survivors from Bhopal”. Ha ha!
Yasmeen: Rafat's younger sister. She writes Urdu shayari!! and is a great painter too! We made her pose like a wandering soul at the Raisen killa, and she was giggling about it ever since.
Aamir Khan: He had taken up the entire responsibility of hosting us, entertaining us, being our local guide, shopping for us, making us eat beyond capacity (to be fair, in this last thing he was assisted by the entire family! No one held back!!), fetching water for us from the local tank (one of ICJB's achievements) even before the sun came out, not letting even one mosquito bite us by walking around with a Mortein coil, explaining to us the way Chingaari and Sambhavana work, the amount of work Sattu bhaiya has been doing in the slums there, and so on.. he never stopped talking. But he sucks at mobile-cricket, although he wouldn't admit it, and keeps trying relentlessly to win. Oh, and also, he takes around 2 hours to bath!
Jabbar bhai: One of the coolest dads I have seen. He cooked one of the hottest chicken curries I have ever had, organized one of the funnest trips I have ever been part of, killed one of his pet chicken so that we could have meat! (more on that later), went out at midnight to fix the table-fan in our room when it stopped working, sported a Save Darfur t-shirt (which made me feel so proud of I don't know what!), fetched buckets after buckets of water (with the help of Aamir Khan) which, after a point of time, embarrassed us to the limit. He seemed to have transcended his generation, and plays a big role in his kids' lives as well, at the same time maintains being a not-so-much-nonsense father, which I think is why he is so cool!
Rafat's mom: A “mom”, which says a lot about her, and an “Activist”, which says the rest. She fed us like there was no tomorrow, (one day she made us 2 breakfasts, because she somehow felt that we would be hungry later on!!) and yet again, we were embarrassed every now and then. She used to make us tea every 2 hours or so, because, I think, she thought we might be afraid of drinking their water! How can someone like me respond to this except possibly shed tears on the foothold of an express train...
Rafat's second brother: Just like the other kids in the family.. lovely! He kept smiling the whole time, got really excited about a prospective fishing tour (which sadly didn't happen) and tried to teach us mobile-cricket, which he totally rocks at!
Naeem bhai: Rocks at one-liners! Can keep you entertained for hours! Fights kusti! Can do push-ups and chin-ups over a 100-feet deep well!! Is very proud of his city and his mosque.. his eyes were shining when he was showing us around the mosque!
Shaheed bhai: Fights kusti too, and you can tell from his looks that he does. The only male member in his family, so his mom stays super-tensed. He is not allowed to eat or drink outside. He had lied to his mother when he came with us for the trip. Its really funny to see a wrestler getting so scared of his mom.
Shoaib Bhai: His wife is gas-affected and bed-ridden. He runs a cosmetics shop. Again, a very kind soul.
Saadiq bhai: THE entertainer! Its impossible to keep him shut. Hot-headed, but its really easy to calm him down. Plays antakshari with himself! You can't get bored when he is around. The kids are all huge fans of these guys, and for good reason!
There is a certain recklessness in these characters.. a glimpse of which we saw in Sarita when she visited Boston. I have been wondering where this comes from.
Does it come from a sense of indignation? Everyone in a community like this has to be assertive about one's own dignity. Unlike my community, dignity doesn't just automatically find recognition there. May be this assertiveness is what leads to such recklessness, fearlessness. Lets them speak their minds, without worrying about the consequences. Lets them do chin-ups in a well, without thinking twice.
Vikaas bhai: He works for the children's organisation. Was very inquisitive about America.
Manmohan, Ratna didi: They work at Sambhavana, particularly in the Ayurvedic garden. And with hyper-active people like them, no wonder why Sambhavana rocks! Manmohan gave us a full tour of the huge garden, described each and every plant that is grown there, and their uses. Then he did something which he needn't have done. He gave each of us a leaf of a plant which is used to cure fever. It tasted disgusting to say the least, the bitterest thing I have ever tasted. But Manmohan himself ate one whole plant, I have NO idea how!
Masjid and Dargaah: Rafat believes that your wishes are always heard to, if you ask sincerely for them at the Dargaah, and hence, now, I believe in it too. One of my beliefs that got reinforced (and hence has again made me extremely happy) in this trip is the importance of religion in people's lives. Jabbar bhai “qurbaan”-ed his chicken for us. In the beginning, I was a bit taken aback by this, and felt a little angry and sad. But when I thought more about it, I could see how I have outsourced my “sins”. I buy and cook chicken without any qualms, and here I am in disapproval of someone who actually has the heart to sacrifice his chicken for his guests. Where would such powers come from in a world devoid of religion? Science and rationality doesn't teach us this!
And this, I think, is exactly where science differs from religion, although science has probably been as holistic as religion. The difference is that science has not been able to account for the human element, which religion has to a great extent. I agree that organized religion has its own problems, but still, I think religion and culture are the biggest achievements of “human intelligence”, bigger than science. The reason behind this is that religion and culture are still bottom-up approaches to life, as opposed to science, which is necessarily top-down, which comes from some closed quarters and laboratories and government offices.
The biggest mosque in Asia: We visited this huge mosque, which Naeem bhai and Shahid bhai said is the largest in Asia. A wonderful piece of architecture.. and its of enormous size! I particularly liked the huge tree in the middle of the courtyard. This mosque is in New Bhopal, and to me it felt like an escape from the discomfort I was having otherwise in New Bhopal.
Visit to Sambhavana: Sambhavana is just too good, the people who work there are SO inspiring! I am sure the pictures that we took will do a better job than me writing about it here. I am tempted to write the next few lines here because I think they tie into some of the current issues being talked about in AID, which makes this kind of contextual. One of the feelings that I distinctively had after spending time at these places is that it’s hard to be benign to people who are from the outside world when you are so involved in a community like this. I grew really bitter about the outside world, momentarily, and this includes contempt towards myself too. Particularly because I am a part of the society these people are fighting against.
But at the same time, I believe that there has to be a dialogue between the 2 worlds. This is because one needs to mobilize opinion inside this other world regarding these issues as well, since most of these mechanisms of socio-economic oppressions are operated directly as well as indirectly from the so-called affluent, developed society. This space for communication or interaction is extremely hard to build for someone working, for instance, in Bhopal, since he/she is totally sucked into the community and work there. This, I think, is exactly where people like Kiran, Ravi or Aravinda come in. They have been part of both worlds over the years, and they understand the language of both kinds of people, which is why I whole-heartedly believe that they should be allowed, and also encouraged, to work the way they have been doing. You take away people like Ravi and Aravinda from AID-US, and I don't see how we can keep working as an organization doing grass-root development in India.
Old Bhopal vs. New Bhopal: We went to see New Bhopal on our way back from the Raisen killa. This was the first time that I felt I was out-of-place in a modern city like New Bhopal. I somehow didn't want to be there, I just wanted to go back to Rafat's place and get a cup of hot steaming tea. I was seeing the world through their eyes, and it was a completely different world. And here lies the greatness of someone like Rafat, who can transcend such disconnects. I think I can see what it feels like being a Rachana, but don't think I can ever see what it feels like being a Safreen 'Rafat' Khan.
Such dignity is what should lead us in our endeavours, because not only it gives a huge driving force, but also direction, so might as well follow dignity.
The last night in Bhopal:
The kids were helping their mom prepare meal for us even in the dead of the night, after returning from the killa, although everyone was tired like hell. Aamir Khan, as usual, got obsessed with the Mortein coil. Rafat walked upto me with a suit for Adrita which she and her mom had made... and I was left speechless... again! Disconnect disconnect.. what disconnect? When it comes to people like Rafat and her mom, no bridge is hard to build.
I didn't want to sleep, I wanted to sit there with the rest of the family, in their little courtyard, and take in every possible moment that I was allowed. But I had to sleep, for I was tired and I had a train to catch the next morning.
But I could hardly sleep, kept waking up every hour or so, and finally gave up at around 4:30. I brushed and sat outside, waiting for the ajaan.
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