Odd it may sound and vulgar it may read but Anurag
Kashyap’s directed film Gangs of Wasseypur punch line is garnering publicity
and increasingly used colloquially among the masses. The maverick Director
maintains that there’s no double meaning attached to it. Okay, I don’t say it either.
There’s is nothing offensive about it but neither is it official. You must be
thinking who I, to make such remarks, am? Well, I am the “Common Man” and the
victim of the flip side of the phrase. The slang aspect of the phrase seems to
be so evident everywhere around me. These were unsaid words, but existing in
practise, until Kashyap choose to say it bluntly.
I am a government employee with middle class earning
whose aspirations are totally dependent on Provident fund and other gratuities.
I take bus to my office everyday at 9 am and the same bus to my home at 6 pm. I
am oddly placed in the vicissitude of the hierarchy of society where I am
compelled to live by the rules the state decides. I belong to the most
vulnerable section that has to think beyond square meals and cannot afford to
remain indifferent to the rising prices. I cannot afford to be as shabby as the
poor, social questioning hinders, or as prodigal as the rich, earning is a
constraint. My life is so predictable yet can’t do anything about the uninvited
odds.
One odd morning I missed my bus. Reaching office
on time was a priority. Seeing the watch I realised that I am almost late as it
was fifteen minutes to nine. I can’t wait for the next bus so going against my
daily quota of travelling expense I decided to hire an auto rickshaw. Moving to
the auto stand I asked the auto driver to take me to Krishi Bhawan, my office.
I was surprised to hear the unreasonable fare from him. I asked him go by meter
tariff. He declined. I moved to another one, a witness to the scene standing
nearby, who too choose to go by the same amount of fare. Irked at their
stubbornness I dropped the idea of hiring any auto standing at the auto stand.
Standing by the road side I waited for unreserved autos passing by. After
waiting for a while I looked back to the ones standing at the auto stand with a
plea in my eyes but I was responded by a mockery in their eyes. They all seem
to be united in their spirit “Teri kah ke
lunga”.
Finally, next bus towards my workplace arrived. It
was fully crowded, not even an inch to stand in. Still I dared to venture
inside. Somehow I managed to hang by its door handles and some space on its
steps to rest my feet. My face was repeatedly boxed by the elbow of the one
standing in front of me. I requested him to watch his movements. I was relied
rudely, “Dikkat hai to aagey chale jao”.
Aware of the fact that I can’t move inside I bore in patience the next 20
minutes of boxing. Every time the elbow hit my face I saw it coming and then
after hitting the unsaid phrase echoed in my ears “Teri kah ke lunga”. I was reminded of Saurav ganguly, averse to
short pitched rising deliveries, who too got hit repeatedly and him staying
helpless. I believe he must also have heard it again and again from Shoaib
Akhtar , “Teri kah ke lunga”.
As I reached office my senior choose to visit my
desk. Oh God! The devil was here. He could have seen me by calling in his
cabin. I guess his intentions were not noble. And so it happened, he lambasted
me for arriving late. Bloody hell! I am not a school kid whom you can yell at
for missing the assembly prayer. As if the reason was not proving sufficient
for him he choose to bring my inefficiencies too, publicly.
Sometime later in the day I was called to my Boss’
cabin. A week ago I was assigned the
drafting of a project proposal. The noting was to be made by the Director of
the department, my boss. Then it was to be sent to the ministry for approval.
The file returned from the ministry without being approved. The comments
attached to the proposal pointed serious discrepancies in the project. One
being the missing noting. At this juncture I must tell you that the noting made
by the Director is instrumental in approval of any projects. One can say that
it is an appraisal at the directorial level before it is moved to concern
Minister. To save himself from the embarrassment and instead of taking onus of
the mistake he considered it opportune to lay the blame on me. Speaking to the
Minister over phone he answered by stating it a clerical error. And the next
five minutes I heard him say it again and again, both in active and passive
voices, that he will penalise the clerk. And so it happened the moron raped me in
the next twenty minutes. It was nothing short of a holocaust conducted by the
Nazis in 1930s, questioning my vey presence in the department.
Never before was I as sure about my feelings as I
was at this moment. All I wanted was to run a dagger into his intestine with
the frequency of 3 Mbps. If there was some instrument to measure my hatred, I
am sure I would be reading much higher than that of Shylock, the Jew, who hated
Antonio. But here the situation was different my boss was all guns blazing at
me. I was reprimanded for the act which I was not completely responsible for. “Wo toh bas meri le raha tha”.Oh Ganesha!
What a real bad day it was turning out to be? Daruwala, what more is in store
for me?
It struck 6 in the evening and it was time to
leave for home. Boarding a bus in the evening time is like doing an Amarnath
yatra where conditions are difficult but the spirit is high (due to the desire
to reach home). Standing in the bus presents you with an array of smells in a
sweated environment where people stand with the help of support suspended from
the ceiling of the bus thus leaving their armpit exposed. The buses in usual
are jam packed. Even then the conductor makes the bus stop at every stand calling
out for passengers to board in. In the process he does not announces the
upcoming stations rather “Yeh dil maange
more more and more”. The passengers travelling inside, who choose to protest,
are looked up with a reply in his eye, “Teri
toh kah ke lunga, main”
The phone in my pocket rang. Oh! It is my wife.
She is a worry invited forever. I never wanted to get married so early. I
detested the idea of seeing a girl for marriage but my parent were hell bent on
me settling down once I got employed. I remember the day before marriage we met
to know each other. One look and I was completely floored by her beauty but
only to realize it post marriage that it was wonder of L’oreal products. “Ab jawaan ladka ko toh har ladki acchi
lagti hai, so mujhe bhi ye bha gayi aur hum ‘naa’ nahi bol sake.” Life is a list of priorities and et cetera
but post marriage the et cetera
becomes the priority of life.
I picked up the phone to
hear a list of things to be taken home. Getting down from the bus I strolled
towards the sabji mandi. Standing at the vendor’s stall I didn’t feel like
asking for prices. Moreover I could not see any fresh vegetables. In fact they
seemed to be discarded wholesale bought at nominal price and now being sold at
market retail price. Picking up the basket I started sorting out the good one
for me. The vendor objected on the pretext that it is a time consuming affair
and he has other customers in waiting. I had to give in to his direction as
going to other vendor meant paying higher prices. United they stood in their
attitude against customers, “Teri kah ke
lunga”.
Finally the Home sweet
home. Everything was sweet about it except the complaining wife. As I was ascending
the steps I heard a voice calling from back. It was my landlord.
He said, “Where are you slipping in quietly.”
Bloody leech! Why this
bastard does have to show his face right now?
Concealing my real
emotions, I replied, “Oh no, Sir, It’s just been a tough day for me”.
“It is first day of the
month and I was expecting the rent from you” He said.
Reaching out for my
wallet I took out the money I had withdrew from the ATM for rent and handed
over ten red Gandhis to him. He counted them, licking his fingers.
After counting
he looked up and said, “It’s almost a year now and I want a 10% hike from your
side”.
Moron didn’t say it
before asking for the monthly advance rent. Avoiding him I started climbing the
stairs and said, “Okay, will think over it”.
Pat came the reply, “I
am serious about it. Either pay more or vacate the premises”.
His tone suddenly charged
me up. I climbed the floor briskly, kept the stuff in the living room and
headed directly to the agent dealing in rented flats. In the next one hour I
moved around the locality with him on his Bajaj Pulsar exploring various options.
Every time I visited a new flat he quoted higher price than the previous one. I
requested to negotiate but he was relentless. Add to that he demanded a 75% commission
of the rent. The writing was clear on the wall; take it or move. Losing all my
charge, I considered it wise to concur to the demand of my landlord in meek
submission. Walking back I wondered why the Delhi government does not do
anything for soaring rents. I realized, why will they do anything for the tenants
most of whom are migrant from other states who do not possess the voting right
here. They are just silent witness to the plight of people.
After having my dinner I
sat in front of TV swapping news channels. For next ten minutes I heard them
all say Scams, Scandals, Rising Inflation, Oil price hike, falling stock
prices, Investors losing confidence, status quo in the case of terrorist
prosecution. Suddenly, I was poked in my stomach, burning with acidity after
having oily dinner, by my wife to give her the TV remote. I had to yield.
Lying on the bed I
thought of the day and many more similar days to come. Is it that I have turned
in to a cynical idiot or actually the struggle for common man is unprecedented?
It struck midnight and the pendulum on the clock rang and said, “Main Samay hun, tumhari barabar leta
rahunga............”
