Outcast

Outcast

He stands in front of a posh theatre looking with interest at the excited theatre goers. ‘Kabali’ is the movie playing. He watches the well dressed, happy teenagers like himself and sighs. Why couldn’t his life be like that? Why was life so tough? Why couldn’t he watch the movie too like anyone else? The wistful expression changes to one of alarm as he sees a group of youngsters, goons you could call them. They swagger down the street – loud talk, much bravado, sheer devilment in their eyes. With a last longing look at the billboard, Rajiv ( named after Rajiv Gandhi) slinks into the shadows and out of sight. He has become very good at doing the vanishing act, he thinks  wryly. But what else could he do, and anyway he did not have reason to complain, did he? A downward twist of his lips reveals the bitterness that one so young harbours within.

Rajiv quietly makes his way to the make-shift home his family lives in. The cheerful, welcoming smile of his mother works like a charm on his deflated spirits. She has a surprise for him. She has cooked an ENTIRE chicken for dinner and proudly brings it to their temporary table - a large cardboard box that he had picked up from the dump. His father beams at him as he hands him a mobile phone. Rajiv opens the package and breaks into a happy smile. At last he had what he wanted - a phone of his own like the others at college. Totally unimaginable.

His parents worked at a construction site on the outskirts of the city. They were really hard workers who slogged like beavers from morn to eve. Their contractor had given them a small incentive for their dedicated work, hence the chicken and his gift. His little sister, Sunita had not been forgotten either. She clutched the case of paints and brushes that her parents had bought her with such pride that it evoked a broad grin from her brother who tried to tease her by trying to snatch the cherished object from her. She squealed in protest and ran to the safety of her father’s lap. Rajiv grinned widely as he prepared to attack his meal. He couldn’t really complain. Life wasn’t too bad after all.

Rajiv studied his mother carefully - yes, she had lost that haunted look that had always pained him so much. And his father, he did not have that hangdog air any longer, he seemed proud and happy and more confident. As for his sister, the look of fear that always lurked in her large, oval, expressive eyes, had been replaced with high spirits and contentment. Yes, life was better. And yet, could he ever brush aside a past, a past he wished so much he could forget?

His life had started in Babutola, a village in Bihar. His family, like many other families lived as a colony on the outskirts of the village. Life was mere existence. They enjoyed no comforts whatsoever – no proper sanitation, no water, no electricity. They were the scum of the land and hence it was their lot to be shunned by the rest of society. They had to walk over a mile to draw water from a well. They were not welcomed by the inhabitants of the village. Temples were taboo, they could not enter the local shops, schools refused to give him an education and most people kept their distance. Why? They were Dalits. What could they do? They could not fight or assert their rights. They had no rights. Nothing, but humiliation and scorn in a country that claimed to be the largest democracy in the world.

Those tender years had been happy. Rajiv grew in the love and warmth of his family. His parents worked in the tannery nearby and he spent many carefree hours playing with the neighboring children: playing or exploring the surroundings, helping his grandmother with the household chores, walking miles to fetch water from the well. Rajiv was proud to think that he was doing his bit like a real man.

He was ten when his father told him that he could come and work in the tannery. No school? He asked his father why he couldn’t study like many others. His father had not replied but the look of consternation on his face stopped him from questioning him further. His sister was born and he found himself replacing his mother at work. It was tough going but Rajiv was not one to give up. With grim determination he slogged all day to help his family survive. The years ticked by and he learned many things. He found out why his life was different from the children of the village. At work the upper castes treated them like slaves. They were the untouchables who polluted the atmosphere! He hated being treated like swine. He had no choice. He swallowed his pride, his self respect and accepted his lot. 

A child had grown into a man.

Rajiv who had always been cheerful and full of fun now became sad and serious. Gone was the curious, cheeky little boy and in his place was a melancholy, grim faced child with the eyes of an old man. Many things were happening around him, things he could not understand. There was this occasion when he had gone with a few other boys from his colony to a hotel in the village. They were not allowed to enter and were asked to get out. And then, there was the incident when they decided to go to the temple after his sister was born. He was shocked when the priest rudely ordered them to stay out. The temple was not for them. Since he had accompanied the women of his family, he had argued and found himself surrounded by people with sticks who started beating him. He had to take to his heels or else he may have even been killed. Rajiv never forgot the incident. He had often wondered how a God could treat people so differently.

When Rajiv was almost fifteen  many things seemed to be happening. His people were always in trouble. On one occasion two old men from the colony were accused of killing a cow and were beaten to death. These men were skinning a dead cow. It was their job. He could never forget the day that his neighbor’s son, a young man of twenty, was attacked by a mob for talking to a girl of another caste. The man somehow managed to flee and was never seen again. Things became worse as the days went by. People were framed and beaten up, stripped and paraded naked, sent to jail or even killed in strange encounters. Nothing was done to protect them. Danger was always around the corner. If they protested, they were herded like cattle and put into the can. His people walked around like ghostly shadows with fear in their hearts.

And then it happened. He had returned home at dusk. Suddenly a group of people surrounded his home and dragged his father out accusing him of stealing a motorcycle. The poor man had been ill and in bed. His explanations and pleas fell on deaf ears. He was thrashed and a couple of men even forced him to eat cow dung for telling lies.. Rajiv met with the same fate when he went to his father’s rescue.

When the assailants finally left, the family packed up and fled. It took them days to reach the city of Mumbai where they felt they would be safe. His parents  found work at a construction site and they managed to rent a small tenement in the ‘chawls’ of Mumbai. Hard work paid. They managed to survive. Rajiv was given admission in a missionary school. He was good, really good at studies and soon was able to top his class, but he was older than most of the other students. Rajiv did not mind. Most of the students and teachers treated him well though there was occasional taunting from some of his classmates. On one occasion, while returning from school, he was attacked by a few of the school bullies. Fortunately he was saved in time by a teacher who was passing by.

He passed out of school in flying colors and managed to get a seat in an engineering college in the city. Life was better now, and he was getting the education he always wanted. Many of his classmates and teachers accepted him and respected him for the person he was. Yet, the stigma remained. He was a Dalit, an outcast in society. Could he change things? Highly unlikely, but he could try and he would definitely fight for a better life for his people. Armed with a professional degree he could hope for better days .

Some day ,perhaps, he will be one with the flow. The stigma of the Dalit will be wiped out and casteism would become a thing of the past.