Being a Bihari

Yes, I am a Biharan and I am proud of it!

I was taken by a shock when I realised what people of metros think about Patna, Bihar. I realised that the wrong perception about my home city (my state) is exaggerated to a great extent.

I still remember my first encounter with the outer world, the world outside my city. I was in my second year of graduation and I went to Mumbai, the city of dreams for my internship. This was literally my first exposure to the world, the real world. Professionally definitely I was growing every day but there were few things that really made me think about the misconceptions that people had about my home town- Patna.

The one very common thing that Mumbaikars in general ask to a non-Mumbaikar is- “You belong to which village?”(Kaun se Gaon se ayya/aayi?) I replied very firmly the first time I was encountered with this question- ‘I said I am from Patna and it is not a village’ and the answer I got was “Oh anything outside Mumbai is a village”. There were many events and conversations that I encountered where I have to explain about Patna, Bihar. Most of the times I get into an argument or discussion or sometimes people just listen to me without answering. There are some questions that shocked me a lot. One day while sitting for lunch in my office a colleague of mine asked- “How can you talk in English, I have heard that you belong to Bihar, 

Biharis don’t know English then how come you can talk in fluent English.” I took few seconds to make myself cool before answering. He seemed shocked to know that we have English medium schools and colleges there. He listened to me as if I am saying something out of the box. Another colleague popped in and asked- “So do you have computer and internet there? I have heard there is no electricity there?” Initially I was taken by a shock when I heard questions like these. But later I became very prompt in answering these questions. Another very common comment I am always given is- You don’t look like Bihari and I smile and say- why does all Biharis have horns?

When I moved to Delhi in 2007, I realised the situation here is sadder. The Delhites have even more negative stereotyping for Biharis. This is worse than the Mumbaikars. In Delhi ‘Bihari’ is used as slang. My fight with all those stereo typical presenters is still on. Even after staying in Delhi from last six years, I am often encountered with one of these kinds.   

Bihar is more about Lalu Prasad and crime stories. One very funny incident happened- a senior of mine asked me mockingly-“So you are a Biharai, can you say something in Bihari?” And I replied obviously Bihari is not a language, it is just a dialect. And all Biharis do not speak Bhojpuri.” Most of the people in Delhi make fun of me when I refer myself as ‘hum’ instead of ‘main’. We do say ‘hum’ to represent our self in place of ‘main’, that’s just because being from the rich cultural land of great kings of medieval India we used to treat ourselves with respect and it just came to our accent. With time, I have evolved myself and now I know how to answer whom depending upon the kind of comment one gives to me or Biharis. 

PATNA

Nostalgia

Nostalgia is what I felt, when I went to my home town this time. Having lived away from my home town for so many years, I was super excited to visit it this time. Here are the most nostalgic scenes of my last visit to Patna.

I went to my city after two long years. I got a chance go to the colony where I spent most of my childhood times. This is the place where I learnt to ride bicycle, scooty. These are couple of lines that I wrote-

Revisiting the memory lane

Terribly missing my childhood lane…

Never knew time will fly by

Leaving me wondering why

It was a different world

Full of happiness around

The memories are very vivid

In my heart and mind

The streets with Amaltas and Gulmohar tree

All the neighbours knew me

This is the place I learnt to ride bicycle and scooty

This is the place I learnt to enjoy rain and natural beauty

This is the place I learnt to tie my shoe laces

This is the place I learn to find hiding places

Imagining figure in cloud was most enjoying

Playing with my cats was most satisfying

Nostalgic is what I feel here

Imagining what all I left here

Revisiting the memory lane

Terribly missing my childhood lane…

My collage, school, lanes of my colony where I used to ride my bicycle, every visual of those golden times just came flashing by. There are some good, some bad and some amazing memories that I have. Now everything looks like a dream, a faded memory. I was going crazy at the sight of my colony, my old house, old school buildings, and the most beautiful house of my colony (which I thought I will buy once I will grow up).  Fortunately I found the same phuchka wala who use to come to my school. Once we laughed at him when he referred phuchka as water balls. But today when I saw him I felt overwhelmed. Time has changed him; he looks much older now. I ate phuchka in contentment and stood there for some time. My cousin thought I am gone crazy. But that moment was beautiful. There are very few things of my childhood that is still intact (other than my memories). My school has been shifted to a new area, the house where we lived for a very long time is no more there, it is replaced by an apartment and the tree from where we plucked guavas have been cut down.

Coming back to the purpose of my visit to my home town- I came here to attend the marriage of my cousin. And besides the usual get together and laughter sessions with my cousins and aunts, one very distinctive part of this visit was the time after Nikah (the marriage). The ceremony was organised in a different way this time. Nikaah in a very simple way was followed by a grand party. So all the male members of the family went to the Masjid for a simple Nikah. When they came back after nikah from phulwari, there was the same commotion, the same discussion, like the when they (my father, uncles and cousins) use to come back after nemaz of Eid. For some time I felt so overwhelmed by this scene that I stood there like a statue looking in that hall. The movement was exactly same, it seemed even after so long we are still the same old family. Every Eid, all my family members used to come to my paternal house to celebrate the festival. All my uncles and brothers use to go to Masjid decked up in freshly ironed and scented white kurta pejamas to offer Eid’s Nemaz. And when they came back after offering the nemaz we the ladies party were also ready deked up in new salkar kameez and bangles. That was how we celebrated Eid. That time Eid meant get together, happiness, fun, discussion, food. This marriage was a great get together for all of us. My uncles (my chachs), my aunts (my buas), and my cousins everyone was there. The only distinct person who was missing from the scene was my Amma (my grandmother). I knew that she cannot come back; it has been ten long years since she has left us. But I must say after she passed away we have not celebrated any Eid the way we used to.

Getting back to the marriage ceremony, I felt loved, appreciated and most importantly I was with my roots, my family, in my home town. Though three very important cousins could not make it to the marriage because they were not in India, still there were many people whom we knew. I met lots of relatives whom I have not met in years some recognised me and some did not. But the feeling was definitely super. My uncle (Chacha, father’s youngest brother) called me CHAMMO. In fact he called all of us (We three sisters) Chammo. In fact it was after a long time that we three sisters attended a marriage ceremony together. As a whole the whole ambience was amazing.  I don’t know when will the next occasion like this is going to happen in my family, but this visit of my home town was simply wonderful. Family get together, marriage function, a brief visit to my old colony, everything was simply nostalgic!