[Reader-list] Arjun bhai revisited

[zainab at xtdnet.nl]

2nd February 2005

Arjun Bhai Revisited

It was on 23rd January, a Sunday. As I was walking out of VT Station, lost
in my own thoughts and world, I bumped into Arjun bhai. Actually, he was
the one who called my attention. “What’s the matter? You aren’t to be seen
around these days?” he queried. I told him I was out of town. “What’s the
matter? You aren’t to be seen around as well?” I counter questioned him.
“Yeah, was taking a break for 4-5 days,” he responded. I had to leave so I
told him I would catch up with him sometime soon.

In the interim period, I would see him around and not see him around.
Finally, last evening, I asked if we could meet again this morning to
which he readily agreed. I have perceived that he is keen to talk to me. I
am curious about his story. But I am also treading a thin line, because to
him, I am not an interviewer; I am someone with whom he talks out of
desire and emotion. I must confess that living in the urban is a tough job
for someone like me who is multi-personality and who is talking to
multiple people. With multiple people, I don’t think you cannot have a
singular kind of relationship. There are demands which relationships make.
And I, in Mumbai, am a solid practitioner of time, just like everybody.
Yet, with my desires to be one of the Everyday Heroines, I have to
understand relationships. I am increasingly coming to believe that while
we often allude to the urban as a site of anonymity, and the urban is also
a space for individuality, the idea of urban community is still extremely
nascent or should I say unknown. There cannot be a singular urban
community and I don’t have any ideas of a homogenous/monoculture
community. But the very idea, values and conception of a community is
common at a fundamental level though there may be multiple communities.
Anyhow 
 let me get on with Arjun bhai’s story which he narrated to me
today. I am simply fascinated with his imagination!!!

Arjun bhai meets me exactly at 10:00 AM at VT Station. And again he asks
me for coffee and when I proffer to pay this time, he raises his hand
authoritatively and says, “Nahi!” We go off to the boundary which
separates the local train station from the ‘outstation’ station. There are
several benches there to sit. Arjun bhai says, “Let’s sit on the bankdas
here!” I am a trifle amused when he uses the word bankdas for proper
benches. The word bankda is slang in dhanda language for a multi-purpose
space i.e. a space for conducting business, for sitting and chatting, for
circulation of information, etc. Bankda is a shabby structure/space
because it is illegal and cheap. It is the roadside dhanda terminology.
The benches we are sitting on today are very sophisticated and hip, very
unlike bankda.

I am nervous because I don’t have structured questions for Arjun bhai. I
am simply entering into a conversation with him, without telling him that
I intend to hear out his story. “I came to Mumbai ticketless. But, now I
travel with a legal train pass everyday,” he says blushing. “I did not
study properly. In my village (he hails from Nanded district in
Maharashtra), I got into the habit of playing marbles with the little
boys. That did it! I got hooked and then finished! Did not study any
further, even though my mother kept insisting. I came to Bombay and got
into the business of selling balloons. But blowing balloons is a tough
job, especially on the throat (I assume he meant lungs, but kept pointing
to the throat). Upar se some of the balloons would just burst. So I gave
it up. Then I landed in Goregaon. I started doing film work. I was like a
spot boy, carrying the cameras around. But I did not like the system of
food there. I could not adjust with the environment there. I gave up that
job too. Now when I look back, I find that my contemporaries in that field
have gone ahead of me and I have stayed behind. If I had continued with
camera work, I would have made it ahead too. Then I landed at VT and
started working for my boss, selling toys and now, very recently, socks!
If you actually see, I travel from home to work and back. That’s my
everyday life. It’s like I am in the service sector, the space outside VT
being my office. My boss is nagging. He will tell me not to talk with my
friends during the time of dhanda. Dhande ke time pe dhanda karne ka. He
has not bought me! I don’t like him nagging. But actually, seth dil ka
saaf hai, he has a clean heart. That is why I am in business with him.”

“If you ask me what changes I have seen at VT in all these years, I tell
you it has really improved. The station has become cleaner. Now there are
benches to sit and talk. Then, we now have platforms on both sides. You
would not remember but earlier, the platforms were only on one side. Now
they have been laid on both sides. Then, trains have now become 12 coach
instead of the previous 9 coach. That is a huge convenience for the
public. But the crowd at VT only increases, never decreases. These tea and
coffee stalls have come up before us. The older Ticket Checkers (TCs) knew
us by face. Now, with the young guys, we have to show them our tickets.
They don’t know us yet now. Earlier, train ticket to Kurla (which is where
he lives) used to cost two to three rupees. Train pass would cost Rs.60
for single line and Rs.75 for double line. Now, the pass costs Rs.110 for
single line and Rs.135 for double line. What do you do? You take a pass or
ticket?”

“Earlier, a pot of water used to cost Re 1. Now, I pay five rupees for the
same pot. See, how times have changed. I get my water from the train
station, right here, where the coolers and taps are. If water is not cold
here, just enter the railway yard, straight.” I am a bit surprised and ask
him, “How can you enter the yard? It’s not legal nah?” “Arre,” he tells me
carelessly, “not to worry. Just enter. You will get water from there.”

“Trains are crowded. See, today my shirt has torn in the hustle bustle.
That is how it is here. At least I don’t carry bags with me, so it’s okay.
I carry chappatis from my home in my pocket (showing me his pocket) and
buy vegetables from here, around. I know where good food is served. They
know me too.”

“I have been around for several years. The change in the name of the
station from VT to CST does not mean anything to me. I still call it VT.
After all, it is a place of business for me and I shall use the language
of business here. If I am on the other side, near GPO, conducting
business, I call this CST station. Jaisa dhanda vaisi bhasha.”

“Laws have become strict today. You cannot talk brashly. Policemen start
to warn you.” I ask him if he has ever entered the BMC office. “I have
been to Colaba to release my goods. Colaba office is fine. There, they
release goods for hundred, two hundred rupees. But god help you if the
Worli office has taken the goods. They will not leave you without
extracting twelve hundred rupees,” he tells me. “No, no,” I interject, “I
am asking if you have been inside this majestic BMC office at VT?” “Not
there,” he says, with the same attitude of carelessness.

“How do you know when the BMC van has come to confiscate your goods?” I
ask him. “We have to watch while conducting business. If you see the van
going from across the street, it is very likely that it will turn around
and come to confiscate our goods. But if it is a big raid, then we come to
know a day in advance. In between, I was not around for some days. What
had happened was that a big officer was coming to inspect the railway
station. We had been warned in advance. So we decided to lay low. You
asked me about my networks around the station. Now let me give you an
example. You have been around for some months now and people know you.
It’s the same with me. I have been around for years and I know some people
here. Uthna baithna hota hai (a very dhanda statement for socializing with
influential persons in authority).” He is smiling while telling me all
this. “I know the station master, a little bit. I know some people,” he
says with mischief dancing in his light brown eyes.

“You see it is difficult for us pheriwalas to sit at home. Timepass nahi
hota hai. We just cannot sit at home. We have to go out and do business.
That is our life. You tell me that newspapers are reporting that evicted
hawkers are going back to their villages. I am telling you they are here.
They just cannot go back. Even these four-five days when I had to sit at
home, I felt restless. I don’t like watching TV. I don’t know anything
about TV serials if you ask me. I love cricket matches. When I am at home,
then I watch the match with my friends. I tell my wife to serve me food
while I am watching. If I am at dhanda, I will ask my customers or
passer-bys for the score.” I ask him about the TV screen at the railway
station and whether he watches television at the station. “Nothing doing.
This is Bombay public. See how they are rushing against time. They will
not even look around. But suddenly now, if a fight takes place, all public
will accumulate. This is how public is here!” I reflect quickly on his
statement about public. Yes, publics is a very, very fluid concept in the
emerging urbanism of Mumbai!

“I read newspapers. Marathi. Saamna (the Shiv Sena mouthpiece). Raghu kaka
sits opposite nah (selling newspapers). I pick a copy and read from there.
It’s important to read papers. But if you ask me to write, I am worse than
a first standard kid. It’s not about my handwriting but about my
spellings. What I had learnt in the fourth standard, today a first
standard kid knows more than that. That’s how they teach in schools
today!”

“So, what ‘s your name? I have forgotten. Accha, Zainab. Now, are you
Hindu?” I tell him that I am Muslim. “But you speak excellent Marathi.” I
tell him that language is my forte and that I have been trained in Marathi
for years now. “So where do you live?” I answer him. “Accha, so that is
your village.” he concludes. I start to think, yup, Byculla is my native
town, village and everything. Then what about the city? Isn’t it my native
place?

“Why do you write about me?” I try to explain to him that writing about
him is a matter of my calling. It is what I feel I should be doing. I tell
him, “I think writing about you is my dharm (duty).” He misunderstands my
conception of dharm (i.e. duty) to mean dharm as religion. “No, no. You
see, I don’t believe in religious differences. Whether Hindu or Muslim,
when you cut the finger, water will not ooze out; it’s bound to be blood.
Then why religious differences? Have you been to the Muslim shrine, here
at VT? I went there only seven days ago. I have been wanting to go there,
but not alone. With shrines, it is like this that when the calling comes,
you have to go. That’s how my visit also took place. Even for Haji Malang
(a Sufi Muslim shrine at Worli). I did not have any money. I borrowed
fifty rupees one day from a friend who gave me the sum without any
questions and I landed at Haji Malang. Aisa hi hota hai, jab bulava aata
hai, tab jaana padta hai! (This is how it is; when you are called, you
must go!)”

As I am ending my conversation with him, I get two phone calls from a
colleague regarding another project I have been working on. I respond
quickly. Arjun bhai looks awestruck at me. I tell him it’s a call from my
office and that I am a working woman. He smiles proudly and says, “You
will make lots of tarraki (progress) in life. You have so much general
knowledge!” I deduce that ‘general knowledge’ in his parlance means
‘information’ and I realize that in a city like Mumbai, we all economize
on information. The more information you have, the more sought after you
are!

Arjun bhai recounts his life in the city and how he left home. His eyes
are moist. He says, “During the riots in Bombay, I was in my village. Some
of my relatives here thought I was dead. I am the only child of my
parents. So when I left home and came here, they were worried. What if I
would fall in bad company? What if I did drugs? But I did not do anything
wrong. My heart is clear. You asked me the other day if I go to Chowpatty
or anything? Nothing. I just do my business and go back home. Even at
home, I don’t talk much. With you I am talking this much. If I have
tension and I talk to you, will that help me? No, not at all! So even if I
am in tension, I just smile with everyone. Conflicts can be resolved with
negotiation, when four people with differing views come together and sit
and talk. If I go my way and not listen to the other three, then how can
matters be solved? That is my personality. I like to sit and talk and
resolve differences and arrive at a common understanding.”

We are ready to leave. I ask him finally, “Have you ever cast your vote?”
“No,” he replies. I join both my hands in gratitude to thank him. “No,
no,” he says, “Don’t join your hands and all. I don’t like this. Just
shake hands and say ‘hi’/‘hello’. These are modern times. And I like being
modern.”

He goes off. I think about his last statement on modernity. I clearly
remember that in my last conversation with him, he had told me that modern
times are not good. And when I had asked him what he did not like about
these ‘modern times’, he had said to me, “Women are too liberal these
days. They back answer and retort. They say to the men ‘if you can do
this, we can also do this’. This is what I don’t like about these times.”

I am still not able to understand Arjun bhai. What is he? Where are his
boundaries and reservations of modernity? What does he think about the
emerging Bombay city? I think things are more complex than I had imagined
them to be 




Zainab Bawa
Bombay
www.xanga.com/CityBytes