Acknowledgement

I extend my huge thanks to Mr. Rajiv McMullen, the Professor of History, for going through the whole text and then suggesting me some valuable changes and additions.

I still remember all the narratives and stories told by my dearest buddy John after every journey he made to the valley dearest to his heart. I have stolen your name for an important character.

I am grateful to my brother Sudhir, who spared his computer for me; without which this could not be possible.

At last, for the foremost, my sweetheart, my wife Suman whose loving support has been always with me for this work.

I

Socialism to Globalism

The sun was hiding its reddish face at the horizon making way for a dense dark as quietly as it often does in early evenings in the month of November. Abraham was still busy with a sickle in hand, removing weeds which had covered the freshly sown plants like the troubles, covering his own life. The light was dimming, his hands were moving at the pace, assuring he would not be coming in the same vegetable bed next day.

“The day has already gone, but you will not stop till you get cold…” Maryam his wife was calling him, rotating her hand in the manger.

Her voice reached his ears but could not squeal into his head, as his mind seemed too busy to bear any interruption. His teeth were teetering and his sickle was moving as beheading the living beings. His eyes were like candles in the wind. Physically he was in his kitchen garden but his mind was penetrating somewhere else.

Sickle slipped from his hand as he was startled, when his wife shook him from his shoulder.

“You old man…! Don’t you see night has already fallen?” clicked a reprimand of a caring wife.

Abraham turned his look to his wife and stood up. His pajama had taken the shape of knees, hanged above to uncover his lower part of legs. He took a sigh and looked towards his fields which had already been mortgaged, then to his home: with its front towards the small village and backyard towards open fields in south-east.

He cleared his throat and said, “Maryam, shall we be able to get our lands back.”

“Let’s hope so, but at present I am more worried about you, lest you get cold,” she replied with a deep smile.

“If you wash your hands and go to bed, I bring you some tea.”

He went to the hand-pump and washed his hands and feet, and asked his wife if she had milked the buffalo. She had already left for kitchen.

“Strong lady!” he murmured.

He went to the room. The sound of utensils in the kitchen was interrupting the pin drop silence of the room. He sat down in a chair, but again stood up and went to see other rooms. He lighted them up, and stood for a while, finding only emptiness and a silence he switched the lights off. These rooms belonged to his children. He came back to his room and sat on the bed. Then he started gazing at the portrait hanging at the wall at the back of bed.

The portrait was of a Cross with a red cloth hanging loose over its two ends on its arms. Some words were scripted on the portrait, which were as:

‘I asked Jesus, “How much do you love me?”

“This much!” He answered and stretched

Out his arms and died.’

In the meantime Maryam arrived with tea. Seeing him gazing at portrait, she perceived that he was inspecting the spider which had made a web at the top of the frame.

“Take your tea, and I shall look after it tomorrow,” she said.

After giving him a cup of tea she returned to the kitchen to cook dinner.

He stood up and switched on the television. He came back to the bed and took a blanket over his legs resting his back on back-rest of the bed. The cable network had not reached his village being away from the town. Only two channels, Indian national channel, ‘Doordarshan’ and Pakistan’s PTV were available on TV. But China has now dispatched easy to by electronics into the cheap video CD-players. The gadget has now become a common household luxury.

He pushed five on remote control for PTV. Malikai Tarannum ‘Noor Jahan’, his favorite was singing on screen. In his vicinity to song he was trying to relive his clumsy mind. He could not finish his tea yet, when the sweet voice of Malikai Tarannum turned to hoarse sounds. And her makeup covered face and her loose but still attractive figure turned to horizontal chords and twinkling dots on screen. He pushed number nine for Doordarshan, but all in vain. He switched off the television and went straight to the kitchen.

“These reckless people, self centered mules, don’t bear us to watch TV even,” he muttered.

“What happened?” asked Maryam.

“Neighboring CD Players are interrupting the TV signals. Nothing is clear on screen. If it is in my authority, I would throw all CDs into fire, to make this village a CD free zone. ”

“The time has changed. It is bygone when you were respected enough to twist anyone’s ear. Our time has gone, and it is time of the new generation. Time has provided them with enough to affect others’ lives.”

“Really, the time has changed much more than it was ever contemplated,” said Abraham.

“It is just seven and hope till 10 o’clock all the CDs will be switched off, then we will be able watch late night serial,” suggested Maryam.

“But what to do now?”

“Go to the bed and read some stuff, or sleep, when the meal is ready I shall wake you up.”

“Should I help you?” asked Abraham.

“You have already tired you up the whole day. I manage it myself; you just go to bed and take rest.”

Abraham returned to the bed and again took the blanket over his legs. He rested his back on the back-rest of bed. His looks rested at a spot on the front wall. This blue spot was of an old whitewash, left by a splitting cream-colored flake that had also become old and damped. He moved his looks over the whole wall and found so many such spots of peach, green, and blue colors. These spots ferried him to old memories, the memories of his youth, the era of socialism, wars, and cold war.

… Bangladesh came into an existence. Mukti Vahini had accomplished its job well. Socialists and Capitalists had entered into a new phase of the space race. Plans to cease nuclear race were under discussions. ‘Simla Pact’ had been signed. Temporary division of Kashmir, a pig slice had been accepted. Mrs. Gandhi had tested her nuclear bomb quietly, adding one more chapter into her achievements. Beurocracy and democracy were perverting each other.

… Abraham Masih completed his B.Sc. B.Ed., leaving all caste people with their fingers into their teeth and making himself the only graduate Christian among all the surrounding villages. He got job in a local mission school without any delay, the school where he had completed his high school and had dreamed to serve after losing his admission at Christian Medical College, Vellore. ‘Pandit Gyan Chand Sharma’ his school time favorite Sanskrit teacher and a senior school mate Ajit Singh, a Jat Sikh; who were teaching at the same place became delighted to see him as their colleague.

His eyes were glittering with a triumph like white pearls on his dark complexion face, when he received his first salary, rupees one hundred and fifty. He took the money and went directly to a cloth shop to buy a piece for salwar kameez for mother, which costed him rupees twenty five. Then he went to Ram Kishore Cycle Store, and bought a Hercules™ bicycle of No. 24 according to his tall height. Cost of cycle was rupees one hundred forty five but in installments it costed him five rupees costlier, which he had to pay in three months. He got installed a driving mirror and a bell on the handle bar, and paid rupees fifty in advance. He took the cycle and on the way he bought two kilograms of ladoos from the sweet shop of Banwari Lal halwai. He put the ladoos in the basket of bicycle and took his way home. He was elated in high spirits as every cyclist had right to be, in that cycle era of India, when even bicycle was a luxury.

The moment he entered his village, all the children playing in street were assembled to chase him and started shouting joyfully as something extra ordinary had happened. They were shouting, “Chacha nava cycle liyaia (look, uncle has brought a new bicycle).”

Hearing children shouting everyone came out to see him, from their grey-mud houses in a hamlet like tiny village. All the children followed the bicycle home. Seeing her son with a new bicycle, Abraham’s mother took him in her tight, lovely and warm embrace. Filled with tears exulted mother took the ladoos out from the basket and distributed some of them among the children. Till night whoever had learned about bicycle turned to congratulate and mother gave everyone some sweet to eat. Ray of jealousy seemed nowhere at any body’s face. Smile was dancing at everyone’s cheeks. Feeling a pleasure in the pleasure of others was the only asset that era of calamities, epidemics, revolutions, and emergencies ever had.

In the evening his father returned home from his farm. Seeing a new bicycle in his courtyard he was exulted with delight. He called his wife, “Lia, congrats! Your son is supposed to have gotten his first salary.”

“Yea, see this piece of cloth which he has bought for me.” She extended him a hand full of seven grey currency notes of rupees ten. “See this money he has handed over to me. I have decided to give one note to Padri Saab as a thanks offering.”

“That’s good,” Majid Mal his father replied delightedly.

Majid Mal sat down on the manji laying in the courtyard and said, “Lia call to your son.” When Abraham came he beckoned him to sit beside him. Lia had already seated on a small stool traditionally called pirhi, at the ground.

“I am proud of you my son; keep the fear of God always in your heart. Now let’s pray to offer our thanks to Almighty for his abundant blessings.”

Then he started prayer with full zeal and courage.

“O’ Almighty God, creator of the whole universe, we meek and humble people come to you with our open hearts…

We were like swarming bugs, to be stepped down upon by the feet of the people, but you took us to uphill as you had brought your beloved Israel from the captivity of Egypt. You have made us a pillar among the aliens. You gave us a well of the sweet water like the spring of Meribah. You keep our granaries full throughout the year.

You have given us sons and daughters, as you had blessed your loving Jacob. You have blessed one of my sons with education and wisdom to become an example for others…

O’ God, fill his mind with the wisdom as you had blessed your loving Solomon. Let every sunrise bring him a goal for his life.

…In the name of your son Jesus Christ and Holy Spirit, Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Chacha, you pray many times better than our Padri Bihari Lal. Though you never had been to school, but to me you are better than a hundred teachers,” Abraham praised his father, whom he used to call Chacha, though the term is used to address younger brother of father in Punjab.

Within three months Abraham’s marriage was planed. A beautiful slander girl from a Christian family living in a village near Pakistan border was selected. He was much fortunate to get a wife of contrast to his own complexion and reasonably younger than himself.

Maryam was just sixteen when she was married. Her face-cut was brilliantly shaped, if she had come from Rome. Her figure was quite like a Barbie doll. Though she was under matriculate, Abraham had selected her at the first sight, as it was not less than any achievement for a dalit Christian girl to reach at this much.

In November’s sweet-cold night, in the middle of a mud-made room, full moon light was flashing, right on two black & white objects, seeping through a small hole in a wall. The graphite face on a pink bosom was shining like a black pearl on the snow.

“I am not feeling good by keeping someone graceful like you in this humble closet. I will make you a bungalow-like-home in a square piece of land, with a bed room, a drawing room, a dining room, a kitchen, a guest room and a small study where both of us will study. You will prepare for your matriculation and I for my post graduation…” The whisper paused for a silence and again droned for consent. “You shall complete your matriculation? …for my sake.”

She blinked her eyelashes in a reply with a twinkling smile on her face.

“Darling, we shall not expect only goodies, instead we shall have to struggle a lot for a good future for our expected children, who are yet to come in this world.”

She again moved her eye lashes down.

Very next week he applied for a home-loan for rupees ten thousands in the Public Housing Board. After struggling a month he could secure rupees nine thousands after losing a thousand to the hands of clerks. His father gave him a square piece of land. His father picked on the ground after a profound prayer and then the construction work was initiated.

Spending every paisa, only an unfurnished structure with mud floors could be constructed. A small kitchen, two rooms and a hall with two verandahs; all it contained. His father gave him one thousand rupees after selling his crops to fix the windows and the doors. Both husband and wife were happy having their dream abode albeit incomplete.

Maryam coated every floor with fresh dung. Abraham made the flower beds around every side. In the courtyard they planted both flowers and fruit trees. At a corner of the courtyard a mud husbandry for the animals was constructed. Flowers’ greenery provided a fresh and pleasant look and a husbandry with a buffalo and a cow inside made it a blessed place. It was the mixture of appearances, like its inhabitants with mixed an appearance of black & white.

The house was an only brick structure in the village. Everyone called it kothi. If someone was coming to his home and somebody asked him that where he was going, he would reply - to kothi.

It took four years full of struggle and niggard life to pay back the loan. Thanks to improvement in his salary which had now increased to six hundred a month after the government aids to the school.

Maryam completed her matriculation, though in third division, yet she and her husband were triumphed and satisfied over her achievement which she could secure despite of being too much busy in the daily chores. Domestic chores were all she was made for: keeping house tidy and clean, looking after animals when Abraham had been at school. And now a new responsibility had been added with a great joy, adding a new color in the family, neither black nor pink or white but a wheatish brown. Abraham named her Anu.

Abraham managed to get plastered the walls of their home. He himself whitewashed it coating it in peach color in Christmas time. Maryam gave birth to another brown doll in the month of icy January, and they named her Rachel.

Abraham completed his M.A. in English in class second. Embedded in the good effects of green-revolution, came the defects of Mrs. Gandhi’s emergency, when turmoil spread throughout India. Janta Party took the rein of power in New Delhi, and a son with brown skin was born at Abraham’s abode. Smile was playing tambourine at Maryam’s cheeks, while Anu was fawning with a joy by claiming the brother, leaving Rachel with a puffing up face.

The circumstances were changing for the good. His salary increased to rupees one thousand and two hundred. Before the arrival of Christmas he got the floors of all rooms except hall, cemented, and then whitewashed the walls in a green shade.

Things were changing, though sluggishly. A cinema hall was opened in the town by Seth Amar Nath a son of Majid Mal’s friend Seth Bagwan Dass. People were happier than the owner himself. Every face either old or young was exited of anxiety. Abraham took Maryam to watch Raj Kapoor’s ‘Mera Naam Joker’. Audience was shouting and whistling at the young Rishi Kapoor gazing at crispy Simi changing her wet clothes in a field. Maryam disliked the scene and the reactions of people, for which Abraham felt embarrassed and brought her back home.

“We shall never come here again. I shall buy you a television,” pleaded Abraham.

Majid Mal had passed away after living a legendry life, following his wife Lia after two years of her death. One day Abraham was still on his Hercules bicycle when Rachel came running to him bathed in excitement.

“Papa, my brother has come too. When Jacob came, Anu claimed him before me but now I will not give my brother to her. Isn’t it right Papa?” She spoke perpetually.

“Yea, it is alright darling.”

Abraham was happy for his comple-balancey: two girls and two boys. He named this son John. John, Rachel’s brother with a pointed and sharp nose, who would take his first step at Lahore.

New Delhi managed to host the Asian Games and Abraham to buy a Black & White television on installments.

All the inhabitants of his village came to witness this, a strange discovery for them. Fairy atmosphere took the air of home. Everyone was whispering in each other’s ears. Anxiety was dancing in every eye. Some were pretending with pride as they knew that magic box… Somebody was saying, “This is a cinema radio”. Everybody was watching technician fitting four legs. Two or three young men were helping him in fixing the antenna on the roof.

Instead of installing TV in some other room, Abraham thought it better to keep it in store cum hall making it possible for every sibling to watch it. This hall with a mud roof and floor had enough room for more than seventy people though sitting tightly with shoulder to shoulder on the ground, with its two corners already occupied by a big tin trunk, two earthen granaries and a quern left by his mother. Everybody either man or a woman, a child or an elder adjusted itself in the room. After a long wait television was switched on at least. Chitrahar a film music program was on the screen. Watching songs in reality which they had heard on radio so far, a ray of excitement squeaked through an every spine.

Anu, Rachel, and Jacob would bite each other for their turn to switch it on or off. Everybody would run to kothi at eight p.m. to watch the Chitrahar on every Wednesday, at news time only the elders would left behind. Some people would return for Ashok Kumar’s Hum Log. On Sundays’ and Tuesdays’ evenings everybody was in a hurry; women and girls would prepare dinners early before dusk. Men and lads would prepare fodder before they got late for the Hindi movie in the evening. Children would not even miss the regional language movie on Sunday noon, which they always called a Madrasi film no matter if it was a Bengali or a Guajarati.

In hot summers TV would be brought in open courtyard. Cinema Hall would take the shape of an open air theater. TV was playing good a role in keeping the people closer. Assembling on the same place would give them a chance to interact with and meet one another at every night. Sona-Chandi on the PTV would make them all laugh. This convention continued till two or three more televisions arrived in the village. The assembly had now scattered and the Hum Log was no more on the TV.

Not only small things, but big things had changed also. Berlin Wall was brought down to antiquity and USSR became a bygone history. Chinese re-addressed their communism. India opened its markets to the world and days of Nehruvian democratic socialism flew away. Agriculturist government helped the farmers to become healthy. NRI (overseas) money was making its way to Punjab. Mud houses changed to the brick houses and brick houses transformed into a big farm houses or mansions. New generation of this hamlet was making good money in a skilled labor jobs in the construction work. The hamlet of mud houses was transformed into a village colony. Shabby pajama-kameez changed to jeans and the rubber slippers to cheap but good leather shoes. Refrigerators and color TVs made their way to some houses. Labor exploited cheap Chinese goods flooded the markets making it possible for common man to enjoy nominal luxuries like videos, VCD players, electronic toys, and even Mobile phones.

Jealousy shadowed the charms of generosity. Differences widened. My and ours changed to his or their, like black & white which had changed to multi-colors, the colors which had a contrast to each other.

If something had not changed, then it was a sai to a Christian, a mazhbi to a Sikh, a balmiki to a Hindu and above all, Abraham’s old motorcycle.