Shabana Aazmi, Actress the Great, stirred a hornet's nest the other day by simply and perhaps inadvertently (or thoughtlessly) asserting in the press that she was denied purchase of a flat in some parts of Mumbai because she was a Muslim. There were reactions from various people, some criticizing Shabana for her statement and some supporting her and confirming her assertion.
This is the age of indulgence by the electronic media who do not let go even the smallest opportunity and sensationalize the most innocuous event, utterance or a goof; and blow the same up out of proportion in the hope of catching more and more eye-balls. Accordingly, one of the channels immediately lapped up this opportunity and being driven by the desire to be first off the block had the audacity to institute a feature called " I am a Muslim" or one with some such name and started interviewing some Muslims in confirmation of Shabana's hypothesis. Most of the TV channels are interested only in upping their TRPs in the hope of sweeping the wind falls of enhanced revenues that accrue in the wake of enhanced TRPs. These channels are least concerned with the sociological effect of their shenanigans.
The print media does not lag behind its electronic counter part in creating the sensational nuisance but mercifully its effects are not as wide ranging nor as far reaching as electronic media's are.
I would like to assure Shabana and other aggrieved Muslim co-Indians that they are not alone in being subjected to discrimination. I too have experienced discrimination on a number of occasions. Here below, I cite some examples.
1. I came to Mumbai in 1964 as a trainee in a central government organization. The training program being residential, I was accommodated in a hostel for a year. At the end of the training period, I along with other trainees, had to vacate the hostel. We were to be on our own and had to find our own accommodation. I requested a Marathi trainee colleague of mine to help. After some days I was informed that a Marathi family had agreed to accommodate two persons as Paying Guests and we were required to meet them to decide the various terms and conditions. I promptly presented myself to the prospective landlords. I was received by a very kind looking, suave and well mannered middle aged lady. I was received fairly warmly and was shown the room. I was also given a verbal list of DO's and DONT's and also informed the compensation that we would be required to pay. I informed the lady that I liked the room and also that I accepted all the terms and conditions. I silently thanked my colleague who had referred me to this kind landlady. In my heart, I was genuinely overjoyed because it meant no running around looking for a shelter. But perhaps, I had been too hasty in indulging in thanks-giving and internal rejoicing. I was in the middle of my thoughts when I was fielded the question "Which part of the country do you come from?". It was obvious that I was not from Maharashtra as I was not speaking in Marathi. I promptly replied that I hailed from Punjab. To which came the very polite assertion ' Sorry, but we would like to give this accommodation to Hindus only.' When I equally politely asserted that I was a Hindu from Punjab, I was reminded that Punjabis were not accepted as Hindus. That signalled the end of the interview and I had a foreboding that wherever I went, I would meet the same fate. I accepted this as a fait accompli. "What cannot be cured must be endured."
I thanked the lady and walked out. I went back and thanked my Marathi colleague and begged pardon for having caused embarrassment. And before any body could utter 'Punjabi', I found myself holed up in Sion Koilwada, amongst Punjabis of every kind. It is (not) another matter that I found that Koliwada, euphemistically called Mumbai's own mini Punjab , comprised a multitude of Punjabs viz. Peshawari Punjab, Multani Punjab, Pindi Punjab, Hazara Punjab and many many more.
This is the age of indulgence by the electronic media who do not let go even the smallest opportunity and sensationalize the most innocuous event, utterance or a goof; and blow the same up out of proportion in the hope of catching more and more eye-balls. Accordingly, one of the channels immediately lapped up this opportunity and being driven by the desire to be first off the block had the audacity to institute a feature called " I am a Muslim" or one with some such name and started interviewing some Muslims in confirmation of Shabana's hypothesis. Most of the TV channels are interested only in upping their TRPs in the hope of sweeping the wind falls of enhanced revenues that accrue in the wake of enhanced TRPs. These channels are least concerned with the sociological effect of their shenanigans.
The print media does not lag behind its electronic counter part in creating the sensational nuisance but mercifully its effects are not as wide ranging nor as far reaching as electronic media's are.
I would like to assure Shabana and other aggrieved Muslim co-Indians that they are not alone in being subjected to discrimination. I too have experienced discrimination on a number of occasions. Here below, I cite some examples.
1. I came to Mumbai in 1964 as a trainee in a central government organization. The training program being residential, I was accommodated in a hostel for a year. At the end of the training period, I along with other trainees, had to vacate the hostel. We were to be on our own and had to find our own accommodation. I requested a Marathi trainee colleague of mine to help. After some days I was informed that a Marathi family had agreed to accommodate two persons as Paying Guests and we were required to meet them to decide the various terms and conditions. I promptly presented myself to the prospective landlords. I was received by a very kind looking, suave and well mannered middle aged lady. I was received fairly warmly and was shown the room. I was also given a verbal list of DO's and DONT's and also informed the compensation that we would be required to pay. I informed the lady that I liked the room and also that I accepted all the terms and conditions. I silently thanked my colleague who had referred me to this kind landlady. In my heart, I was genuinely overjoyed because it meant no running around looking for a shelter. But perhaps, I had been too hasty in indulging in thanks-giving and internal rejoicing. I was in the middle of my thoughts when I was fielded the question "Which part of the country do you come from?". It was obvious that I was not from Maharashtra as I was not speaking in Marathi. I promptly replied that I hailed from Punjab. To which came the very polite assertion ' Sorry, but we would like to give this accommodation to Hindus only.' When I equally politely asserted that I was a Hindu from Punjab, I was reminded that Punjabis were not accepted as Hindus. That signalled the end of the interview and I had a foreboding that wherever I went, I would meet the same fate. I accepted this as a fait accompli. "What cannot be cured must be endured."
I thanked the lady and walked out. I went back and thanked my Marathi colleague and begged pardon for having caused embarrassment. And before any body could utter 'Punjabi', I found myself holed up in Sion Koilwada, amongst Punjabis of every kind. It is (not) another matter that I found that Koliwada, euphemistically called Mumbai's own mini Punjab , comprised a multitude of Punjabs viz. Peshawari Punjab, Multani Punjab, Pindi Punjab, Hazara Punjab and many many more.
More about Punjab, Punjbiyat and Punjabis on another occasion.
My stay in Koliwada lasted one year at the end of which period, I was asked by my partner to look for another place. That was the start of my yearly hunt for a new place. Each time that I went seeking a new accommodation, I was made to feel that as a Punjabi, I was not very much welcome. It is noteworthy that some of the landlords were Punjabis who were in fact more vehement than Sindhis and others in their insistence that they did not welcome Punjabis as tenants. I never bothered to go deep into the hows and whys of their paranoia. More often than not, I would make myself believe that there was something amiss with me as an individual and the fact of being denied the accommodation was not a comment on the Punjabi community at large. I took these incidents in my stride. I found them hilarious. In fact, on numerous occasions, I have narrated these anecdotes to regale my near and dear ones and I have enjoyed my narrating them in equal measure. Here goes the most hilarious of them all.
A little background first.
Before I got married, I was staying as a paying guest with a very wonderful and affectionate Punjabi family. I refer to this family as 'Maalikan'. I would like to reiterate that I did not get this PG accommodation without the usual reservations being expressed against my being a Punjabi. The difference was that I had a very strong reference from a very close relative of the head of 'Maalikan' family. It is a matter of pride for me that later I was treated as a member of the 'Maalikan' family, which ties have continued till date and have also been sustained by the second generation.
To continue with the main story, around two months before I got married, me and the 'Maalikan' family mutually decided that for the benefit of all I should move to an independent accommodation which would become our nest ( mine and my wife's). Accordingly, the struggle began. Each day of a full month found me visiting an estate agent and one or more prospective landlords but nothing materialized. One of the reasons for being unsuccessful was my being a Punjabi. Each passing day made me more and more desolate and I was at my wits' end not knowing at all what I would do if I did an accommodation even after my marriage. But God is great. I found an old couplet materializing in my case
कश्तिआं सब की किनारे पे पहुँच जाती हैं
नाखुदा जिसका नहीं उसका खुदा होता है
The help came from one of the most unexpected quarters. And all my life it has happened that close on the heels of the solution of a problem, comes another problem. I was informed that a flat was being vacated by one of our senior colleagues who I refer as Guru and the flat would be mine if Guru recommended my name. I promptly approached Guru and told him about my predicament. He sympathised with me but informed me of the problem. The flat was not for Punjabis. Back to square one. But then Guru himself suggested that, for my sake, he would inform the landlord that I was a Hindi speaking person and rest would have to be managed by me. I agreed very gladly. I got a shock when he revealed the surname of the landlord. It was a very typical and famous Punjabi surname. I was afraid that I would be caught when I feigned being a non-punjabi before this family. I would refer to this family as Camphors. However, I decided to take a calculated risk because on more than one occasion earlier I had been mistaken to be a Muslim because of my heavy use of so called ' Urdu' vocabulary while speaking Hindi. Also, I had a very close friend of mine who hailed from Western UP. I fondly refer to this friend as 'Mittar'. He had some very peculiar mannerisms and at times he chose to speak in a very unfamiliar and funny dialect. On a number of occasions I had been able to raise many a laughter by mimicking his antics. I decided to make up and play Mittar when required to face Camphors or any other prospective landlord.
Before I got married, I was staying as a paying guest with a very wonderful and affectionate Punjabi family. I refer to this family as 'Maalikan'. I would like to reiterate that I did not get this PG accommodation without the usual reservations being expressed against my being a Punjabi. The difference was that I had a very strong reference from a very close relative of the head of 'Maalikan' family. It is a matter of pride for me that later I was treated as a member of the 'Maalikan' family, which ties have continued till date and have also been sustained by the second generation.
To continue with the main story, around two months before I got married, me and the 'Maalikan' family mutually decided that for the benefit of all I should move to an independent accommodation which would become our nest ( mine and my wife's). Accordingly, the struggle began. Each day of a full month found me visiting an estate agent and one or more prospective landlords but nothing materialized. One of the reasons for being unsuccessful was my being a Punjabi. Each passing day made me more and more desolate and I was at my wits' end not knowing at all what I would do if I did an accommodation even after my marriage. But God is great. I found an old couplet materializing in my case
कश्तिआं सब की किनारे पे पहुँच जाती हैं
नाखुदा जिसका नहीं उसका खुदा होता है
The help came from one of the most unexpected quarters. And all my life it has happened that close on the heels of the solution of a problem, comes another problem. I was informed that a flat was being vacated by one of our senior colleagues who I refer as Guru and the flat would be mine if Guru recommended my name. I promptly approached Guru and told him about my predicament. He sympathised with me but informed me of the problem. The flat was not for Punjabis. Back to square one. But then Guru himself suggested that, for my sake, he would inform the landlord that I was a Hindi speaking person and rest would have to be managed by me. I agreed very gladly. I got a shock when he revealed the surname of the landlord. It was a very typical and famous Punjabi surname. I was afraid that I would be caught when I feigned being a non-punjabi before this family. I would refer to this family as Camphors. However, I decided to take a calculated risk because on more than one occasion earlier I had been mistaken to be a Muslim because of my heavy use of so called ' Urdu' vocabulary while speaking Hindi. Also, I had a very close friend of mine who hailed from Western UP. I fondly refer to this friend as 'Mittar'. He had some very peculiar mannerisms and at times he chose to speak in a very unfamiliar and funny dialect. On a number of occasions I had been able to raise many a laughter by mimicking his antics. I decided to make up and play Mittar when required to face Camphors or any other prospective landlord.
Guru got me an appointment with the Camphors who lived in a fairly posh locality in Central Mumbai. I went to see them after having rehearsed my playing Mittar to near perfection. On the appointed day, I went to see the Camphors. I chose to wear a very distinctively UnPunjabi shirt , which I had borrowed from Mittar hoping that Mittar's ghost will come along with the shirt and help me become him.
I was greeted by the daughter-in-law of the house. I said a very polite 'Namaste', took care to remove my shoes, washed my hands after removing the shoes and settled on the edge of a chair instead of sinking in the sofa. I was offered a glass of water, which I held in both hands and made a loud hissing sound while sipping the water. All the time, I was not me but Mittar.
I was interviewed in depth. Every bouncer that was hurled on to me was dispatched over the boundary by me with Mittar being my bat. But all the time I was walking on thin ice. Simultaneously with the process of interviewing me, the Camphors were exchanging notes about Mittar (me) taking care to speak only in Punjabi to avoid their comments being understood by me. I felt like the fabled The Blue Jackal who had fallen in the tub of 'Blue' while running to escape the city hounds. I was scared of myself because I was not sure when the urge to join in the conversation would overwhelm me . But I escaped unscathed and I got the flat. I took care not to invite Camphors for my marriage because that would have been easy give away. The fun was yet to start.
I was greeted by the daughter-in-law of the house. I said a very polite 'Namaste', took care to remove my shoes, washed my hands after removing the shoes and settled on the edge of a chair instead of sinking in the sofa. I was offered a glass of water, which I held in both hands and made a loud hissing sound while sipping the water. All the time, I was not me but Mittar.
I was interviewed in depth. Every bouncer that was hurled on to me was dispatched over the boundary by me with Mittar being my bat. But all the time I was walking on thin ice. Simultaneously with the process of interviewing me, the Camphors were exchanging notes about Mittar (me) taking care to speak only in Punjabi to avoid their comments being understood by me. I felt like the fabled The Blue Jackal who had fallen in the tub of 'Blue' while running to escape the city hounds. I was scared of myself because I was not sure when the urge to join in the conversation would overwhelm me . But I escaped unscathed and I got the flat. I took care not to invite Camphors for my marriage because that would have been easy give away. The fun was yet to start.
One evening, my Mother-in-Law along with my brother-in-Law and his wife (whom we affectionately called 'Big K, my wife being called 'Lil K') came visiting us. The dinner had been laid and we were just about to start when the door bell rang. To my consternation, I found Camphor himself at the door step. I let him in and introduced him to all present taking care that I spoke only in Hindi. My in-laws were perplexed to find me switching over to Hindi. They were wondering as to what had come to possess me suddenly. I avoided their glances. Another shock was in store and before any one could say 'Jiffy', I found Camphor addressing 'Big K' and exclaiming " You are so and so's daughter- Isn't it". 'Big K' being endowed with an elephantine memory reciprocated by averring " and you are Mr. so and so----". My heart came to my mouth. Incidentally, I realised that one of the dishes included in the dinner menu of the evening was 'French beans'. I excused myself and went out to avoid being there when the beans were spilled.
When I came back, Camphor was ready to leave, waiting only for me to comeback. He had been offered to join in for the dinner which he declined and instead preferred a cup of tea. He duly finished his tea and shook hands with me and left with a strange expression on his face. He would have hardly gone about 5 metres when I felt the ceiling of my flat had fallen. There was a roar of laughter. My wife would not stop switching between looking at me and bursting into peels of laughter. The others also were unstoppable. Even my mother-in-law seemed highly amused.
It took them quite sometime to return to normalcy. When I asked them why they were laughing, the madness returned. No body bothered to answer, they just kept laughing as if they had consumed tons of 'Bhaang'. Finally, the revelation came. When I had walked out, Camphor admonished 'Big K' and inquired if she was inimical to 'Lil K'. All present were aghast at the comment / query. But Camphor continued
' अपनी ननद के लिए तुम्हे यह भैय्या ही मिला था? '
I was not sure whether it was a sad commentary on my personality and general demeanour or a complement to my histrionic abilities that I was able to carry my act to the climax. I have always taken it to be the latter.
I was not sure whether it was a sad commentary on my personality and general demeanour or a complement to my histrionic abilities that I was able to carry my act to the climax. I have always taken it to be the latter.
Sometime later, Camphor met Tandy, a common acquaintance of Big K and himself. He inquired in a very conspiratorial tone almost accusing Big K of the injustice to which she had subjected her innocent and unsuspecting sister-in-law. When Tandy showed his ignorance of the devious plot hatched by Big K, Camphor let out the big secret thus
'Big K ने क्या ज़ुल्म किया , अपनी ननद एक UP वाले भैय्या के साथ ब्याह दी.'
Tandy protested and affirmed that that was not a fact. He informed that ' Lil K' was married to 'oldKid' who was a hardcore Punjabi, who was proud of the Punjab, Punjabiyat and Punjabi language. Camphor did not believe it till he confronted me. By that time, I had resolved to vacate his flat. I begged his pardon for having cheated him and he reluctantly forgave me.
The irony is that after I vacated his flat, Camphor gave it on lease to a real UP bhaiyya. The last I heard was that they were in litigation because this UP bhaiyya had claimed tenancy rights.
Shabana Ji! There is no denying the fact that there is rampant discrimination in our Indian Society. It comes in multitudes of shapes and forms. Language, caste and religion are the most commonly visible macro level reasons. In addition, there are a number of hidden or overt excuses; financial status and lineage being often touted as parameters of class distinction.
In an accompanying blog, I have elaborated on the kinds of discrimantion that I have suffered and because of that I can easily empathise with Shabana and others. But where I differ with them, is in their insistence on 'Religion'. My hypothesis is
"Something must be amiss with me which leads to discrimination against me and makes me unacceptable. I must do introspection, find the root causes and work to eliminate them."
Shabana Ji, I wonder whether you have ever done any introspection and have paused to ponder why this discrimination or dispathy bordering on mutual distrust and hatred has continued for centuries.
I give you a simple quiz. How is that in spite of a ban on loudspeakers, they keep blaring in the mosques showing no compassion for infants, students, sick and old people who are subjected to this noise pollution which even Iqbal has denounced.
I have also been wondering, ever since I read Shabana's ( and earlier Emraan Hashmi's) assertion as to where hordes of Muslim actors, artistes, writers, singers are residing in Mumbai. I find that world of glamour and glitz is ruled by Muslims at various levels and the number is ever increasing. Where are all these people residing, certainly not on foot paths or shanty colonies?
Shabana Ji, you are not alone but I also find that there are not many people with you either.
Shabana Ji! There is no denying the fact that there is rampant discrimination in our Indian Society. It comes in multitudes of shapes and forms. Language, caste and religion are the most commonly visible macro level reasons. In addition, there are a number of hidden or overt excuses; financial status and lineage being often touted as parameters of class distinction.
In an accompanying blog, I have elaborated on the kinds of discrimantion that I have suffered and because of that I can easily empathise with Shabana and others. But where I differ with them, is in their insistence on 'Religion'. My hypothesis is
"Something must be amiss with me which leads to discrimination against me and makes me unacceptable. I must do introspection, find the root causes and work to eliminate them."
Shabana Ji, I wonder whether you have ever done any introspection and have paused to ponder why this discrimination or dispathy bordering on mutual distrust and hatred has continued for centuries.
I give you a simple quiz. How is that in spite of a ban on loudspeakers, they keep blaring in the mosques showing no compassion for infants, students, sick and old people who are subjected to this noise pollution which even Iqbal has denounced.
I have also been wondering, ever since I read Shabana's ( and earlier Emraan Hashmi's) assertion as to where hordes of Muslim actors, artistes, writers, singers are residing in Mumbai. I find that world of glamour and glitz is ruled by Muslims at various levels and the number is ever increasing. Where are all these people residing, certainly not on foot paths or shanty colonies?
Shabana Ji, you are not alone but I also find that there are not many people with you either.
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