N/One of us.

Eldest son in the family- Who knew that a small wound in his armpit would result into a serious illness, and eventually, death. His father had hopes with the eldest son, who would join the diamond industry and bring money. Jari industry pays in peanuts. He has to marry five daughters. His wife places her hand on his shoulders and tells him that he should be patient and things would work out. But patience? Would that be a virtue or a vice? He decides to get all of his daughters married as soon as possible. After all, they know the Jari work and men would definitely want a helping hand in the family. He married three of them in the Rana Samaj, his own community. One of his son-in-laws lived in Kodiwad in Begumpura. Most of the families in Kodiwad are either Ghanchis or Ranas. He interacts with them, if there's any Ghanchi guy who wants to get a Rana wife. Ghanchis have a very poor ratio of girls over boys, probably 842/1000. These days, any Ghanchi girl would marry only when the Ghanchi guy has a bungalow in the posh locality, has cars and a very stable job with a regular income.It's been approximately ten years that the Rana women have started marrying in the Ghanchi community. 

They have a very old house, almost in ruins, in Kodiwad. Which Ghanchi girl would come? They cannot sell the house. The rules and regulations of the Municipal Corporation have troubled them in serious ways. The law in the 1980's, "Vaave tenu khetar, ane rahe tenu ghar." (The one who toils in the farm owns it, and the one who lives in the house, owns it) has troubled most of the owners in the Kot Vistaar. Their grandparents had rented the basement to a Khatri family at twenty five rupees per month and that has been going on till today. They cannot raise the rent, they cannot sell the house, the tenants demand thirty lakhs if they decide to sell it. This is the house they have and that's all. A house where the basement looks like a haunted place with the typical smell of urine, the first floor has broken wooden pillars that stand just on the pain residing in the house. The second floor has partitions made out of tattered curtains. Sunlight peeps in through small holes in the walls. The small spaces between the greyish brown tiles have gathered enormous dirt. 

In this house, he makes his way to sleep all day. His only income is through selling the stamp papers, a craft accumulated because of the social capital of his grandfather. The small black board, acting as a name plate, bears the vague recognition- 'Stamp Vendor,.. ". Sometimes, people come and he makes five hundred rupees by selling one legal document. He cannot go to the Bahumaali building to toil hard in the sun and make thousands. After all, he has been a Ghanchi, residing in the Kot vistaar. How can people expect him to work? He eats mutton at the Laari once he gets that sporadic income of five hundred-one thousand rupees. He drinks ten rupees Potli, a cheap liquor to forget about the real world issues, like why his parents are not able to find a match for him. 

She thinks about him, her only son. She has to make his life settled. A Rana girl? She ponders. At least she would be able to earn through Jari and support my son. At least she would beget children to keep the family lineage going. 

She calls him. "you told me about the Rana girl who would want to marry in the Ghanchis. Is the family still interested? But we are strictly vegetarian and our culture is high. We don't consume alcohol, please make this all clear."

He talks about the family. Her father feels relieved, one more girl would leave the house. Ranas are doomed with so many girls. Her mother tells him, "Please get some details about the family, we cannot send our daughter like this." He gets very angry, "They are bhagats, pure vegetarian and have not even touched alcohol, what else do you want? They are cultural." 

She gets married to him. All her life, she has seen Jari machines. She dreams about life where she would take a nap like the Ghanchi women, where she would sit on the porch and indulge in gossips. She dreams about her children who would not be forced into Jari industry and can study as much they like. She dreams about the man who can take her responsibility and brings a salary every month. No more of this society where the woman has to keep the child in her lap and work all day, just to earn hundred rupees per day. No more of this life where the roles for women in the society- just doing the household chores and raising children, are altered and added with earning money to run the house. 

He still sleeps all day. He still eats mutton. She has to go to the markets in the afternoon, just to sell some pins, earrings and necklaces, to earn something eat one meal a day. She cries and fights with her mother in law, "If your son was so incompetent, why didn't you tell us before? Why didn't you confess that he eats and drinks?"

She smirks and feels that a Rana woman shouldn't expect this much. Ranas are used to this kind of life. If the other daughter in law of the family, who is a Ghanchi, says all this, then one can understand. Ghanchis have a high culture. She says, "If it was so good at your father's place, he wouldn't have left you in another family. You think you can say anything, but we know what goes on in the Rana community."

She wonders if she is one of them, or none of them and keeps dusting the hair pins to sell them that afternoon. 

All work and no play, makes Jill take another way!

Part 1


She orders some tea at the chai walah downstairs. Holds that plastic cup but her eyes are holding the Zari machinery. She sips unknowingly and looks at the street of Hanuman tekra number 4 in Golwad. Her son must be on his way back to home. She dumps the plastic cup and crushes it underneath her foot. Rubbing her glittery forehead, she goes inside the house and methodically starts holding the golden threads to fill them in the rolls. Her husband is also doing similar kind of work, but at a different place. At a relatives' place. They all know each other and so the work becomes familiar and familial. But he doesn't get the family money, he will just get the wages, approx five to eight thousand rupees per month. He comes back home in the evening. Opens a bottle of scotch, made from fake essence and drinks it. She is busy cooking the meal. The radio has been turned off now. It was a companion for the whole day's work with glitters.

Now, it is the real world. The reality shoots in the house. The wooden staircase has fossilized the hard work and is resonating pain. The ceilings have befriended the rainfall and so the water from the skies observes them. The noises from the other end of the street are of the gamblers. They have come in cars, someone will make a lot of money tonight and someone will lose. The fingers of people inhabiting this house seem blunt, with flat nails. Some even have scratches that run into dark colors. One can see his face in the same room and can cook meals in the same room. The mattress is adjacent to the boxes of copper threads to be processed to make zari. A second hand school book with names scribbled has its corners folded because of the carton of empty reels that has been mistakenly placed on it. The house has sections, but no rooms. There are no walls. The walls are outside the houses, the invisible and the inevitable.

She stills thinks about it. She has autonomy, she can spend her money but she has to work for it. She wonders if this is same for all the 'she' out there. The Zari business has seen huge recession now it is no longer the silver and gold zari but it is metallic zari and that yields very less. Everyone in the family has to work, it is a difficult world.She shares some gossip with her neighbor. They tell her, the story of 'she' is different everywhere. Not everyone has to work this much. But why? Because they didn't like daughters and now they have a poor sex ratio of girls over boys. Is that why they want to marry daughters of our community? Yes. Our daughters adapt easily and besides that, there's very little work one has to do. All one has to do, is to cook some nice meal and watch television. She had heard about it, but now it is more or less clear.

Part 2

He is sitting on that small wooden chair and folding the packets to be arranged neatly in his 100 year old shop in Begumpura. The shop is small and he doesn't want to change anything about it, not even its visual contours. He is worried about his son. He is now 25 and is unmarried. He has learnt some computer accounting and works in a 'company' and earns about twelve thousand every month. Who will give his daughter? He tried to bring him in this shop and expand the business but that has been an unsuccessful attempt. Whenever he comes, he would sneak out with his friends and spend money on food and tea, laughing and chatting at some crossroads. That's why he has asked him to better be in the 'company'.

His house is in Sonifaliya. A flat that hosts people from various communities. He likes chicken and mutton, so burns incense sticks and cooks so that nobody knows about it. The irony is that, a street next to Soni Faliya, there are Muslim who eat this on a daily basis. But he doesn't want to go to their localities and eat chicken/mutton.  He wants to get his son married and no girl will come to his flat in Soni Faliya. He has to change his house to some other locality. He is trying to save money for that.

He gets to know from his son that there is a girl who is nice and would be fit for the family. She is from Golwad. She has been busy doing the Zari making work since her childhood. She is not much bothered if he lives in Soni Faliya because she would be fine anywhere. She belongs to Gola community and he belongs to Ghanchi community, they have similar culture of eating non-vegetarian food and consuming alcohol. The alliance would work very well. Besides that, a Ghanchi girl would want a car, a house in Adajan area, a well paying job or a business and she might throw tantrums.

People living in the neighborhood could afford moving to Adajan because most of their family members are in the Powerloom sector. Powerloom has always been a great area to work, the Marwadis have also created a lot of capital by entering the sector.The saraiya or the incense sticks business doesnt yield much and the 'company' doesn't pay well either.

Part 3

All day she has to work. She hopes that once she is married to a Ghanchi, she would not have to work this much. She could go to the weekend trips to Piplod with her husband. She could take a nap in the afternoon and escape the golden glitter on her face.

All that she would miss is, ordering tea in plastic cups from a local vendor at her own wish.