My journey 3

My marriage a mirage; no it is not the juggle of alphabets, no!  Why was I forced into a drama called as marriage by society is a sight of insecurity among rural parents and possessiveness of parents on sons as good as ownership of domestic animals like cows or buffaloes. We have fed him so far, no he should give milk and milk to us only as we are masters. Parent word is synonym with masters. Son is a slave, or master and animal. The parent child relationship as we are made to read and cram in school morality books is all bakwas, hum-buck and utter absurd. Even among parents with good education and millions of dollars at their command consider sons as domestic animals. The relationship is just selfish, animal and master type. I never found more than that in most cases.

After working as agriculture labor in my father's farm, for the fear of bad social publicity they permitted me to go out, and I went to Thapar Institute of Engineering and Technology, now Thapar University Patiala in Punjab to study civil engineering. Initially stayed in Hostel C where most freshers used to live and Thapar was infamous for cruelest form of  ragging. But well that phase passed with any physical harm to me though one among us died during the ragging. He was asked to shave the hairs from a senior's private part mix them in curd and eat. He was forced to swallow faster, his throat choke. Seniors thought he is making drama and slapped him which aggravated his situation he fell down unconscious. We heard next day that our class mate's seat is vacant for new admission. Ragging concluded with the ritual candle dance in Thaparian tradition. In darkness of a July monsoon night we were herded in the playground, ordered to get into birthday suits, thick candles were inserted into our anus that is shit holes, asked to sing Thapar Anthem loud and the candles were lighted by seniors and the dance on Thapar anthem started, well this is usual style nothing great about it.

The hostel expenses, books and stationery expenses, purchase of slide rule and fees were costly, very difficult to pay. Everyday a drawing sheet for engineering drawing class, drawing pencils, drawing board, set of squares, compass boxes, etc were needed. Hostel food whether you eat one time in a day or both times, whether you miss afternoon tea, or morning breakfast was at same cost for everyone. I could not pay the first bill even. I took a decision to leave hostel and move to near by locality called model town in a room with a partner.

The hostel dues of first month were settled from the hostel security and mess bill from mess security. I moved into a room of Rupees twenty per month rent, no advance, and I found Sardar Kamaljit Singhji, a nice sardar, though my senior as he was a third year mechanical student and I was a first year civil. We lived nicely. Kamaljit Singhji was a good cook. He used to make Roti and Kadhi every day. The Kadhi was not in curd or butter-milk, no, it was a mixture of little besan in water with salt, that was all. My job was to clean the utensils and kerosene stove after lunch and dinner. There was nothing like breakfast or evening tea, no luxury. The food was simple and same everyday, Roti and thin besan solution as curry. It saved me from hostel rent and mess bill. The house had two rooms in other room used to live Sardar Malkiyat Singh and Balkar Singh. Their job was to deliver milk door to door, and news papers, very enterprising young sardars. I learnt respect for labor from them, which used to hate till now. They were very respectful to us, the engineers, a very respectable profession at that time when India had only 60 to 70 engineering college and only very brilliant could get into engineering. Medical profession was considered as that of gods, very few colleges and few students. I never heard till that time that so and so is studying medicine, till then. They used to offer us occasionally Tea, from the saved after completing distribution.

My expenses were minimum I think I could not reduce it lesser. The lunch at shops was priced at 50 paisa, chapati, subzi and dal, no rice or curd. We were able to make it in about 15 to 20 rupees in a month and about 15 rupees in room rent and electricity. I used to feel rich if my father send a Rupees 50 money order, though my classmates living in hostel were getting 150 to 200 from their father.

This expense was not bearable by my father every time he will send me 40 or 50 money order, he will write me that this money is raised by selling a cow, next time by selling a buffalo or selling wheat grain that was kept for home kitchen. It used to make me feel guilty, dam guilty. I decided to apply for a scholarship. I made an application for scholarship to UP technical Education Board Kanpur and wrote a letter to UP Chief Minister Hemvati Nanadan Bahuguna. Luckily the CM-UP read my letter and wrote to Technical Education Board for expedition my scholarship application, I got approval with in no time, though the actual disbursement of scholarship was a very lazy affair. The scholarship amount was doubled by UP and it was sufficient for my civil engineering study. I am ever thankful to Shri Hemvati Nandan Bahuguna for making it double on my request for every beneficiary. It was a merit based scholarship, and my argument was that as I am studying out of UP, the expense is more in Punjab, the state of UP is subsidizing the engineering college so the students of UP studying outside state should be give higher scholarship amount. The scholarship amount for UP residents studying outside UP sate the amount of scholarship was doubled.My faith in functioning of government developed, which is still positive. I understand now why I chose to serve a state government s my first job, rather working for Baroda Dairy or NDDB after IRMA.

 Well the scholarship money arrived after 200 days. I have to live with sold cow and buffalo everyday. I thought of doing something to earn and study. I had a good BSc degree in chemistry, so a job of chemist in a carbon black factory easily became my beginning, my first job. The factory area was at 4 kilometer distance from ‘model town’ where I lived, there no direct local bus available, walking was only way. My attraction in the factory became ‘two times tea’ from canteen. I used to wait for that moment of tea enjoyment, otherwise I could not afford purchasing tea, and there was no tea in my life. Our lunch and dinner was same Roti and besan kadhi, vegetables like potato or anything else were unaffordable. I still remember the enjoyment of the sips of that cup of tea which used to arrive from the factory canteen for employees, wow what a taste that was.

Then some suggested me to give tuition. I was a civil engineering student of respected Thapar College. So getting students was not difficult but not easy as well. I asked every Tom Dick and Harry to help me find some students. The answer used to be very polite, everyone and anyone who pass tenth exam wants to give tuition, you too. Some how a retired government hospital clerk Shri Ram Parsad Sharma , who used to call me for writing his letters occasionally as his hands used to shiver because of age helped me in arranging a tuition of two students in the same family of an executive engineer of PWD. The boy Romy Singh was a reluctant student of ninth and his sister Pinky Singh was a student of sixth. The tuition rate rupees 50 per month was fantastic in 1970. I became a private tuition master at the age of 19 years. My neighbor Sharmaji on his evening walks used to sit on tea shop the local news sharing spots. He got very good report of my teaching work at Sardar Balwant Singh's bungalow to his children Romie and Pinkey Singh. He got call from the Superintending Engineer Hira Lal Sharma, asking him if I can teach his daughter. And I was asked to teach Suman the little lady of SE Saheb at his own bungalow. The attraction at both these places was the thick Tea in very good cups, as both the families were rich educated and caring towards me, they were happy with the progress of their children.

I had two problems of walking to their places time consuming work and at times I had to prepare to teach them. My studies at Thapar started suffering; my home work which used to be heavy started becoming copied from class mates home work assignments. My drawing sheets were not reaching the mechanical department in time, as mechanical professors were taking machine drawing classes. My grades went down and I was fearful of loosing my scholarship which was still in hopes and papers. I visited Saharanpur district education Inspectors office many times, developed contacts with important clerks and got files pushed. But money was not in hand.

The day arrived when I sat down in BARADARI, the famous garden of Patiala empire, under the shadow of a tree closer to the statue of the lady in stone where the famous film ‘BARADARI’s song 'Tasveer banata hoon .. magar tasveer nahin banati...' was shot. I was also making a ‘Tasveer’ for me and my life; jo nahin ban rahi thee, my picture but my picture was taking any shape. I had an alternative that I could go back to my night job at carbon-black factory and continue teaching. This will give me 150 from salary in factory, Rs. 50 from teaching Sardar Balwnt Singh's children, Rs. 35 from teaching Shri Hira Lal Sharma's daughter, total Rs 235. A civil engineer's honest salary at that time was approximately same, though income was much more.

I was by then close to my neighbor Ram Prasad Sharmaji's family. Sharmaji's family consisted of his wife, his third as earlier two died, a son elder daughter Prem married and working in State Bank of Patiala, son Dharam Pal Sharma, again working in State Bank of Patiala and younger daughter Vijay working in Punjab Electricity Board and studying MA English literature as an external student. She also appeared for SBoP test and joined State Bank of Patiala. Prem used to visit occasionally her family life was not smooth, her passion was reading English novels, she was an avid reader, silent but watchful, she never disliked me as was usual among Punajbi families to look down UP wala bhaiya.  She has same attitude with me whenever I was sitting with Sharmaji writing his letters in Hindi, Punjabi letters either Vijay or Dharam used to write.

In the background of this vividness around me; one day my father came to see me unannounced, I was out of my room, out of respect for an elder and because of my closeness with Sharma family he was treated well by Sharma family. As Vijay was at home she took all care of him. Vijay's father being too old and Mrs Sharma (Beejee) remained inside out of respect it was Vijay entertaining or attending to my father. His lunch dinner tea was offered by the Sharma family, as a token of respect.

My father returned back to UP home and declared that I am going to marry a Punjabi girl in Patiala. All heaven broke and my marriage was thrust upon me immediately in a family near our village. Rokana is a strange system where girl’s father gives some money to boy’s father as rokana. Is it a purchase agreement? That the girl's father has given an advance to purchase the boy, to boy's father? I was sold. And money was needed very badly hence the money received as an advanced was consumed by my poor parents. So I had to deliver as sale proceeds. Was it a marriage, sale or mirage! I am still searching for answer!