Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

‘Bhaa-ee-ya.’

Mrs. Sharma seems to yawn and smile at the same time as her red lips form each syllable over gleaming white teeth.

‘Bhaa-ee-ya,’ the Hindi teacher repeats.

‘Bhaiya means brother. Behen means sister.’ 40 students of Class II A repeat the words after her. The school bell rings.

At home, Arjun makes a fuss over dinner. He doesn’t like spinach. His 15-year old brother Karan is fussing over his girlfriend through text messages. Lt. Col Joshi isn’t paying attention to his sons. He’s busy watching the news.

‘Reports are just coming in of fresh violence in the city following the arrest of Raj Thackeray, founder of the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena…’ the pretty anchor on TV seems upset with the news herself.

‘His second bloody arrest in eight months! And what happens? His honchos go on a rampage, looting and vandalizing everything in sight. Can’t they see what makes Mumbai Mumbai is that it’s a cosmopolitan city?!’ Lt. Col. Joshi looks incredulously at his wife.

‘North Indians are adding to the city and the state’s economy, goddammit! And he wants us out! This is sickening to watch!’ Lt. Col. Joshi bellows in anger. Karan stops messaging.

‘Ramesh, calm down. You’re scaring the children, baba,’ Mrs. Joshi puts a spoon full of spinach into Arjun’s mouth.

‘Look on the bright side,’ she says. ‘The Congress won because of the cat fight between him and his uncle! Let’s hope they stay at each other’s throats.'

10:00pm. Mrs. Joshi forgets to set her bedside alarm.

The boys wake up late. Morning ablutions are performed in a hurry, school bags are packed and the front door bangs shut as the boys run to catch the bus.

‘Karan bhaiya wait!’ Arjun struggles to catch up with his brother as he sprints after the moving bus.

It’s too late. The bus leaves a cloud of dust in its wake.

‘Arjun, hurry up. We’ll catch a rickshaw. I have 10 rupees.’ Karan stands at the edge of the road, waving his arms, hoping to flag down a rickshaw…fast!

‘O Bhaa-ee-ya!’ He screams out at a passing rickshaw, but to no avail. Minutes tick by. The traffic on the road increases, rickshaws on the road increase- only none of them stop.

‘O-Bhaa-ee-ya!’ Karan tries again. Bingo! It stops.

‘Bhaiya, Mount Carmel School.’

‘Who are you calling bhaiya, you North Indian bastard?!’ the rickshaw driver spits out in Marathi. ‘You’re in aamchi Mumbai. Speak Marathi!’

‘I…I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just calling you.’ Karan instinctively backs away from the vehicle, pulls Arjun with him. They walk hurriedly in the opposite direction.

‘Aye! Where are you running off to, stupid coward! You people stay here, steal our jobs and don’t even care to learn our language! Filthy polluters!’

Arjun is crying. Karan is badly shaken.

Half an hour later, they reach school. It’s 9:00am. School assembly has started and the two boys are late. They are made to stand outside the hall as punishment.

Inside, 650 students are reciting the National Pledge.

‘India is my country. All Indians are my brothers and sisters….’

Note: This article, along with others I'm writing on cultural/political issues in India can be accessed here.