*”This piece of literature is completely nonfictional and each and every incident happened for real.Any resemblance of this incident or rather say discrimination on the basis of your native region is just a normal day to day activity for north Indian people living in South or vice versa and not a mere coincidence.”
To begin with, I would like to clarify that I don’t hold any grudges against any caste, color, religion or person from any other region. I still remember our “All Indians are my Brothers and that’s it” Pledge I used to blabber out every morning in school assembly and I mean every word of it except the sister part where I have to swear that I will look upon every Indian girl as my sister even my future wife. (Side Bar- which genius came up with “all Indians are my brothers and sisters” thing, if that’s true than was he planning to marry his own sister? this pledge is the most sadistic, sick and unmoral part of our Indian constitution).
Back to the story, in the summers of 2009 I paid a visit to my sister’s house in Bengaluru (previously Bangalore, and assuming by both the names of this beautiful city, the city naming authorities must been full of perverts who came up with a name which start with the word “BANG”,I have to say, Bang up job guys).I fell in love with the city as soon as my feet touched the ground of this city, the weather, the greenery and other stuff, now I can totally be a nerd and write in details about the weather and greenery but that would not prove my point, so in short Bengaluru is all about awesome weather perfect for going on long bike rides(since I made my trip in 2009,so I am writing this blog based on the climatic conditions prevailing back then, currently as I have been told, the good old weather of bengaluru is not as awesome as it used to be).
It was my birthday, 29th June 2009, My sister and brother in law decided to took me to a dinner to their favorite restaurant and since my sister,ila, is just as I am which means lazy, she forgot to give my jeans for laundry to local washer man aka DHOBI.I had to rush to washer man, (wait, It’s important for story, my sister knew few words of kannad and that primitive washer man knew not a single word of Hindi or English so those few kannad words always helped my sister to formulate broken kannad sentences and deal with washer man and I didn’t knew anything about this, ok back to story) so ,I went to his
shop which looked deserted except for two skinny dudes in lungis ironing clothes on their respective workstations, so I gave my jeans to him, asked him, both in English and Hindi, to wash and iron my jeans while thinking that he might understand one of the language and there he was staring at me in amusement as if I was some sort of alien monster from outer space speaking gibberish so after speaking something in kannad which I suppose were “Screw you, north Indian”, and signaling no by hand motion he and his lungi partner had a good laugh and start doing their work.
I don’t know what provoked me, his ugly ass mustache or his ear shattering laugh, I ordered him to launder my jeans and in return I would pay him five times more he charges on laundry, that Son of a bitch laughed again and this time his laugh was not only shattering my ear drums but it was clearly shattering my pride. In a fit of rage, I shouted at the top of my voice when suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulders, I turned around to see a demonic figure of about 6 n half feet height, eyes glowing red with hell fire peeking through them at me, mustaches which can beat the shit out of mustaches of veerappan and Nathu Lal (who even had Amitabh Bacchan’s reference “muche ho to Nathu Lal jaisi ho, warna na ho”), He leaned forward towards me while I was praying to God that he wouldn’t kiss me as a punishment and in a very clear and correct accent, he uttered “Humhare area Mein aaya hai toh Kannad sikh le,wanra yahan se bhaga denge”
“Inner-Angry” me wanted to punch him, stab him, cut his cojones (testicles) and feed him with Sāmbhar and Coconut chutney for breakfast but the “Outer-Sensible” me clearly knows that violence won’t lead to solution or if I put it in a right way than I first became numb and then a pussy when I saw two of his friends with similar demonic facial characteristics approaching me and I don’t want them to cut my birthday cake right in the middle of a road, so I decided to wash and iron my jeans by myself before they wash and iron the shit out of me that too on my birthday.
It took me months to recover from that incident; may be my behavior with that laundry man was wrong but I would have behaved similarly with a washer man from north, my behavior had nothing to do with region then why that demonic face gentleman brought the issue of region in our fight, I never wanted to insult that laundry man because of his region, color, caste or religion, I just wanted to insult him for being rude and common we all have that right in our Constitution, it’s called “Right to Freedom of speech and expression”.
Manager of my Brother-in-law once asked him in a meeting,”So, Rajat, how do you feel in Bengaluru?”
“I feel great sir, although when I was in North, I was an Indian, but when I came here, I became a North Indian”, he replied.
But it’s not about any Prakhar or Rajat, or any North Indian in south, it’s also the same for every south Indian in North, the way we behave with people is what matters the most. Instead of being a regionalist and a complete douche bag, think about India for a minute. Think about our Creepy “All Indians are my brothers and whatever” Pledge and for crying out loud, think about the time when India won the cricket world cup, didn’t you hugged everyone with joy or were you choosy because of their region. I was at India gate that night, and I didn’t hesitate one moment before celebrating my joy for my country with a stranger who could have been from south, east, or west.
Be an Indian before tagging yourself as a North Indian or South Indian.
This Is Prakhar Gupta, Indian By birth asking you to stay safe and healthy. Have a nice day.
*Anyone who finds it offensive can sue me according to Article 420 of Indian Constitution which states “Go Screw yourself, I don’t care”. True Story.