The Khichdi

"I am making a Khichdi
with lentils."
She says.

I don't like them much
but i dont say a thing.

Her swift cuts
chop the onion
into pieces
and a few silent tears
roll down her cheeks
onion just seems
like a reason

Tomato is shredded
chillies are sliced
poatato too
gives in....
to the blade...
in her hand
maybe he knows
that she'd...
mourn for him
later...

Rice is transferred
to the steel trough
then washed under the tap
like a kid....
returned from...
a mischievious trail
rinsed...ruffled
like son's
front locks

The trough clinging
to her fingers
beseats itself
in
the cooker's hollow.

Then go in
all the spices
tasetless
they are
till her fingers
hold them.....
sprinkled
the way
clouds wet
the lands
barren and tired
with rains....

The Salt follows
with a contentment
after having waited long
for her to pick up
a pinch
out of him.

And then
on her command
jump into
the cavity
the pieces of
potato, tomato
and onion
like obidient soldiers
of a loving general.

A spatula churns them
ready to go
to any depths
for her.

The cooker is closed
and a whistle is placed
on it's outlet
with a gentle pat
on the lid...
warning it
to behave itself
when she
won't be around....
till he blows
a whistle for her
to know what
has cooked inside
his heart.

The hands are washed
plates arranged
with glasses and bowls
to surround them

Cooker blows out
a loud whistle
steam all around
like an outburst.

She comes to him
to console...
and lets him vent
it all out

her personal little
servant holder
pulls out the trough
off the cooker......
like a tumor from
a painful enclosure.

The contents are mixed
religiously
and served
like an offering
to a god....

Till then I just keep
looking at her
following her.
Amazed. Bedazzled....
Bewitched. Mersmerised.
Hypnosis......
The Science
has a name for it.

"Eat...what are you waiting for?"

I consume
the first morsel...

I give up
my disliking
for the lentils
then on...

Before we hit a Bhaiyya...

Yes I am a Maharashtrian. Pure Maharshtrian. Born to Pure Maharashtrian family. Not even a minor diversion from the course of our ancestral heirarchy. Generations spent in a small hamlet in Maharashtra. The core of it. Grandad came to Mumbai. Settled here. Served the 'Gora Saahab'. Mumbai then belonged to 'Gora Saahab'.

My Baba then came to Mumbai. He had completed his scholing in the same hamlet while his father slogged in the city. He completed his education and established himself in the city. The city then was a part of Gujrat. It belonged to Gujrathis.

I was born and brought up here. When I first began to develop a sense of understanding, Mumbai was a part of Maharashtra. People had fought for it's separation from Gujrat. It belonged to Maharashtrians. To me. Since I was one.

My close friends father came to Mumbai from Uttar Pradesh. He made his fortune here. My friend was born and brought up here. Just like me. But he isn't a Maharashtrian. One question arises now. Does Mumbai belong to him?

According to political theories of past few years, Only Maharashtrians have the right to reside in Mumbai. Which later underwent some alterations as those living here before 1995 had complete right to continue with their stay. The year 1995 of criteria was later scheduled to extend beyond 1998 and so on.

And now once again, the question has raised itself like a cobra rising out of a snake charmers cane case. And the charmer this time isn't one but two. And each of them have reised their voices against each other. Resonating through voices of many others. Those who are charmed equally by the flutes of these charmers.

Will or should Bhaiyyas stay in Mumbai? Bhaiyyas, Uttar Bhartiyas or Uttar Pradeshi and Bihari Bhai-Baandhav or whomsoever. Do they have the right to exist in this city at all?

Question is hoisted at the point of 'lathi's. And counter question at the point of 'sword's. Who will stay? Who will go?......before that.......my personal question...Who decides this?

Who decides who is stay in this city and who is not? Who decides who is a son of soil and who is an intruder? Who decides who is a 'Bhoomiputra' and who is a 'Parapraantiya'?

I once read in my eighth standard civics textbook. Indians have a fundamental right to settle in any part of the country. Now I think...maybe it was a 'BIG' printing mistake. Do we really have the right? Or do we follow the instructions of local politicians, struggling leaders and presidents of upcoming parties?

One man stands up and blurts a statement. And masses goes on a rampage.

"We won't tolerate North Indians in Mumbai". And people appear on streets actually displaying their intolerance. They hit every North Indian or 'Bhaiyya' as we know them. May it be a small taxi-driver. Or a bhel-puri wala. Those unreachable like Mr. Bacchan were verbally atacked. (Mind it...I don't respect the old man and his family...but for their Bollywood mafiosi and not for being Uttar Bhartiya). Shops were ransacked, owners were bashed, every possible way to threaten their existence in the city was tried. And to say....this relieved the Maharashtrians. Maybe there are people who were relieved by this outrage. But I felt ashamed. Ashamed to be a Maharashtrian. Ashamed to be a 'Marathi'. Forgive me Raj Saaheb.....but I am ashamed.
No Raj Saaheb...I can't accept your argument. Success is not a community thing. It is about something called 'attitude'. nobody can come and take up ur businesses. Business is not region or emotion. It is a strategy. The one with the best strategy wins. It's never about coming from north or south. It's about individuals. Their aspirations and motivations. Not about their intrusions.

You can only attain success by stepping towards it. Never by thrashing the successful.
Nobody replaces anybody. It is only determination that replaces strongholds.

Mumbai was never a city of a community. It was always a city of talent. A city of toil. And those who toiled, survived. Any Maharshtrian who has given his sweat and soul, this city has held him close to its chest. Just being a Maharshtrian does not give you the right to claim its ownership. You need your soul to be stuck and entangled in it. People do come here. And have a rapratous affair with the city. They just can't leave it and go later on. They do come here in the search of a daily meal. But then who doesn't? Even our forefathers migrated to this place for the same reason. The original inhibitants of the seven islands were the fishermen along the coast. We migrants populated the rest of the land mass. It is a surprise that we did forget this past. The past of jam packed buses and to the brim boats in which our great grandfathers came to the islands expecting a change in lives of tribulations. And the city raised them out of it. Sucessfully or unsuccessfully. It did help them at least build firm walls to their houses in far away villages.
They strived here to make their lives. They weren't north or south or middle Indians then. they were all just people in search of bread. Some made it. Some were left behind. But those who made it...made it merely on their perspiration. Those hadn't had enough courage to perspire day in and day out, complained. Complianed about others racing ahead.

Now we have an identity to that complaining. 'Marathi Maanoos'. And we have marked our targets. Bhaiyyas. They migrate to the city. They take away our businesses. They take away our jobs. They do everything to push us to doom. And we....we will retaliate!!!!....How???....we will ask for BLOOD!!!!!

We will attack them. Sticks. Stones. Swords. If no weapons then slaps and kicks. To drive them away. So that we could succeed. Succeed in our attempts to 'success'.

What if we drive them away? We have a free Mumbai. And all chances to be big shots. And if they retaliate. Then what? fight them back. Till the moment one of us are wiped off. And if we do wipe them off...then....if we dont make it. Who then? Punjabis? Gujrathis? Marwadis? Who???
Or do we work a bit hard shedding off our laze and make ur own place. Learn a bit, qualify ourselves and enter the flow. Like many of our 'Marathi' brothers did. Following them instead of swimming in our pools of jealousy. Speculating how they must've used the wrong ladder up and how we all are blessed by purity to not even look in dat way.

What we need is...to grow up. Growing up involves not physical growth and strenthening of biceps in 'vyayaamshaalaas' sponsored by political parties but a growth of thought. Independent way of think. And being able to differentiate between right and wrong, the sense which most of us haven't yet developed. Niether Uttar Bhartiyas nor the Bhumiputras of the city.