Bihar is to India what India is to the West!!!

“Another debacle,” Rexy said disappointingly and changed the news channel to one of her favorite K-word lachrymose program.
“What happened?” Did Tulsi die finally?” I asked. I am very optimist but Ekta Kapoor ditches me every time making her alive again and again.
“No, I am talking of these Biharis beaten up in Mumbai,” Rexy responded. “Why can’t this entire non-sense end up finally” She had agony in her voice.

“I don’t find anything wrong in this. Maharashtra belongs to Marathis, what in the heck Biharis were doing there,” I counted-reacted impromptu.

You shouldn’t take the chance of arguing with girls, but as I mistakenly did so, now it was going to be really big. Rexy won’t let me go so easily.

“What’s wrong in this, did you say?” she shouted furiously. Eyes red, hairs open (she had opened her hair band when poor I opposed her) and face frowned.

“Poor unemployed empty handed chaps beaten up savagely and you are saying what’s wrong in this. Are you crazy or what” Rexy shouted. It was going to be really big now.

“They have got their own state, why can’t they just stay within their own boundaries? Why they are moving to Punjab, to Maharashtra, to Bangalore in not only dozens or hundreds but in hundreds of thousands?” I said softly. I don’t dare shout in front of her, so I kept myself soft.

“This is India Mister. This Maharashtra doesn’t belong to Marathis only. This Punjab doesn’t belong to Punjabis only. This Bangalore doesn’t belong only to Kannadigas” Rexy was very angry now. She even had got her cheeks vibrating with anger now. Only thing left was a smooth slap on my face and thus end of the show, but she chose to continue.

“And what boundaries you are talking about? Biharis staying in Bihar doesn’t mean they won’t go out of it. Bihar is after all India only,” she was soft this time while saying this.

“No, they are coming to Maharashtra and grabbing otherwise Marathi employment. They are coming to Punjab and seizing otherwise Punjabi farmers’ employment. They are even moving to all other prosperous parts of India and are taking hold of employment of local people. Why in the hell can’t they just stay happy in their own land, with their own people, within their own boundaries,” I was happy because I thought that I defeated her with this argument this time.

“After all, we local people suffer due to these Biharis” I thought.

“Ravi, what’s your dream business school?” Rexy asked.

“What?” I wondered.

We are discussing Bihar and Rest of India, and this Rexy girl is all of a sudden asking me about my dream school.

“Haha,” I thought but didn’t laugh loud.
“She has conceded defeat, so wants to change the topic” I thought.
“Harvard, Stanford, Wharton, Kellogg, Insead, Oxford, Cambridge,” I uttered all the top business schools all in one breath.

“Oh really!!!” came the first reaction
“Yeah baby,” I tried to make that rocky rock star pose but felt myself a joker, so came back to normal human posture.

“And Mr. Ravi, where in the world all those schools are,” Rexy asked.

“She herself belongs to Canada, then why is she asking all those bizarre questions?” I wondered.

“US, UK, France,” I crowed.

“Here you go,” she said energetically.

“Hmm. Biharis shouldn’t come to Mumbai or to Bangalore or to Punjab. They should also stay within their own limits, their own boundaries. They shouldn’t even try to grab opportunities and jobs of local people. Right?” she asked me.

She was repeating the same lines that I had said a few minutes ago. What’s she up to? These girls, no one has ever understood them, nor will one ever succeed!!!

Everyone from our grand grand fathers to our grand fathers to our grand children to our grand grand children have and will ever falter on this front!!!


“Right,” I said and widened my chest. After all, I had defeated a girl in an argument. At least, I thought so.

“Then why should Americans or French or British should let you in their country? You can’t let people of same country live in other state, then why should people of an altogether different country let you come there and accommodate you,” Rexy shouted.

Man, she had a point here, the point that I never pondered, the fact that I never noticed.

“You work with an IT company and so do I. But why should American companies give you work? Why should their work be outsourced to India? Tell me,” she questioned.

“You become a braggart and tell even remotest of your friends that you are going to States. Your parents boast to your relatives that their son or daughter stays in the States. Am I correct?” she again questioned. Her voice was very serious and she was nothing but honest at the moment.

“Ravi, you know why you got this job?” she asked straight forward.

“Because US companies want to do cost cutting, and we are skilled but cheap labor.” Well I confessed.

“Why shouldn’t every Indian IT engineer be beaten up when he goes to the States or the Britain?” she questioned and now I had no answer to any of her question anymore.

“Now you will say that we are skilled and give consultation to the States, but what these Biharis do, right?” Rexy was a visionary, a philosopher, an original thinker now.

I simply nodded in yes.

“Ravi, you surely are skilled and are a wonderful consultant. But you were privileged that your parents could afford to make you that skilled. Many Biharis may not be that skilled in technology, but they are skilled in construction and they get employment in this outside Bihar, that’s why they come to your places,” she clarified.

“All the buildings, the infrastructure, the flyovers you see, these hardworking people have made it. But really they won’t want to do so conditional they have the privilege to learn technology.” I was wondering at Rexy’s scrutiny.

Rexy finished this argument. Well, this was no more an argument because once Rexy started revealing facts, I was no more an arguer, but only a mute listener.

Rexy is again busy watching her lachrymose K-serials, but has left me contemplating.

What we Indians are? Isn’t Bihar to India what India is to the West??

Don’t Indians go abroad for labor? Don’t Indians go abroad as cheap skilled labor in IT? Don’t Indians go abroad for education or for employment??

We do go!! And here we Indians are people of those prosperous Bangalore or Punjab or Delhi or Mumbai et al.

If we want to go for better opportunities, then why can’t people of less prosperous states of India come for employment to other states, to the states where they don’t need even Visa to come??

Do they really grab our opportunities? If yes, then don’t we grab opportunities of Americans or the French or the British? If there we have no issues, then why here? Why this volte-face?? Why these self-determined dual standards?

India is a democracy, and every Indian has the blunt right to live or work anywhere in India. We don’t need any advocates of regionalism. If we really need, then first call all your near and dear ones from the West, where they are grabbing opportunities of hundreds of thousands others. Till then, be Indians, not regional!!!

It’s 11 at night when I am finishing this post. Rexy has given me yet another insight. I feel myself a bit more Indian today than a Punjabi. Today, when I see people of Bihar in my state, I don’t look at them with hatred, but pass a smile, a smile that takes their sorrows of being away from their families away!!!

Solution of Ram Temple issue!!!

How will you address God if you realize that the one standing in front of you is God!!!

Same quandary I was in the first and the only time I met God!!!
“Shall I say Good Morning or hello, or shake hands, or prostrate, or simply hug!!” I was in a multi-dimensional dilemma!!!

Rexy, my girlfriend is a Sci-fi and had made me a world-machine. World-machine is something very much like a time-machine, boarding which you can not only go to different time eras, but also to different worlds.

“So where shall we go first Ravi,” Rexy asked.
When girls ask such questions, be prepared that another couple of hours, and you would have lost couple of hundred rupees in Baristas or Café days.

“Baikunth” Rexy herself proposed while I was pondering that Barista would cost me 200 rupees, while at Café day I may save 20 rupees.

“Yes, let’s start with meeting Lord Rama,” Rexy suggested. Rexy is a Christian by birth but, as per her, that isn’t a sufficient reason to stop respecting or praying Gods of other religions.

I still have much to learn from her!!

“Lord Rama!!” I wondered.
“Why not go to see our future? To see how much more money of mine will you waste this month etc etc etc.” I thought but only thought.
You bet if you have a girlfriend, her word said means the final word said, so I conceded.

A couple of commands fired on her world-machine and we were in the official residence of Lord Rama (or Lord Vishnu, to say!!)

“Welcome Ravi and Rexy,” Lord Rama himself pronounced, God was aware that we would come there. After all, God is God!!

“So how is your planet doing,” he enquired.
“Nothing much Sir,” I responded, I wasn’t still sure about how to address Him. So I better used my IT company soft skills to address him Sir!!

“We are fighting to get our right, to build your temple at your birth place Sir,” I chose to earn some petty points in front of him, looked at Rexy and winked.

“And what purpose would it fulfill?” he wondered.

“Will it resolve your rich-poor gap, Hindu-Muslim riots, unemployment, global warming, terrorism, reservation issues,” God enumerated.

“Man!! We are fighting our elections on this issue and God has nothing to do with it. HE is totally indifferent towards it,” I was nothing if not stunned.

“And who made you Hindus and Muslims,” God continued.
“Which scripture has it written that I don’t care for Muslims or Sikhs or Christians?”
“Which book has it written that Jesus or Waheguru do bless Hindus?” my head was reeling.

“See this Super Computer. It has Rexy’s details. I had blessed him with idea to make this world-machine. Now how can you say that I am of Hindus,” God’s voice had disappointment.

“I kept shouting telling you that I am Vishnu, I am Jesus, and I am Allah. But no, you won’t pay a heed to it. God is one. But no, you won’t understand. At the end of the day, you are just residents of planet Earth.Educated illiterates,” God shouted.

"Any number of births I take to tell you this single point, but you will end up doing the same Earthish thing.Categorizing and Classifying. Can't you live without these races, these castes, these religions?" God asked.

“Go back to your earth, and tell your people and politicians. I don’t need temple. I need Humans. And tell your earth, you guys are not humans. You have just got the hardware (the body of humans), not the software (thoughts) of humans. You change your software, and that would be my Temple. The Rama temple,” God proclaimed, asked his waiters to serve us Ice Cappuccino, and left to fulfill his other appointments.

I and Rexy were just wondering about what happened. But surely, Rexy was no more Christian now, and I no more a Hindu. We were two humans praying to same God, just with different names.

“What next?” I asked Rexy.
“Let’s go to meet Babur,” Rexy said.

This Rexy girl gives me shock sometimes. First Lord and then Babur

What’s she up to? What’s going on in her mind?

I forgot to ask Lord why He made girls!!

“Ok,” I surrendered and we were in Heaven to meet Babur.

“Hello your highness Emperor Babur. We have come from earth to meet you,” I said with extra chocolaty face.
“Did you hear about Babri Masjid demolition,” I asked the blunt question straight forward.
He nodded in yes!!
“Your people are trying their best not to let the Ram Mandir construction happen there,” I said.

Emperor stared at me and kept staring, pondering something at the back of his mind.

“Ram Mandir, Babri Masjid,” he said and started smiling. Smiling converted to laughing and laughing to Guffaws.

I and Rexy looked at each other, wondering at this reaction.
“Your highness,” I interrupted.

“Are you a developed nation? Does every Indian sleep with food-filled stomach?” he questioned
“No,” I moved my head in east-west direction.

“Is your economy independent of exports? When western economy jolts, Is India independent of those shocks?” he questioned like an economist.
“No,” same gesture

“Is India a pollution-free, corruption-free, weather-calamities-free nation?” Emperor hurled another question
Pathetic I again replied in No.

I didn’t know where the conversation was heading to. I was confused but the Emperor continued.

“Is every Indian employed?” another one.
“No,” same gesture

“Does every Indian live above poverty line? Does every Indian consider other Indian a human?” another one
Same response!!

“When one Indian becomes superior, does he respect his juniors or consider them his slaves?” Emperor asked
“He becomes brutal, a beast,” Rexy replied this time with some furiuos expressions.

Emperor again started laughing, not to stop this time.

I was responding without facial expressions, but these girls, they have this art of contorting their faces as per the situation. God, you are really great who devised them!!

“Go and tell your world’s people. The day every Indian will start considering himself an Indian before any other thing, my soul will be most happy,” Emperor replied.

“We don’t need temples or mosques. If anything, be humans and love other humans. If anything more, open Charitable Hospitals at contentious places, where those wanting mosques or temples will donate money, and where every human will be served without a matter of his religion” Emperor replied and left.

I and Rexy also came back to our World.

It’s 9 at night; Rexy is busy watching one of those late evening K-programs, and devising new tantrums to ask free coffee or chocolates from me, while I am writing this blog conveying the message of Lord Rama, and the solution of Emperor Babur. Don’t know how many would be the takers, but even if one, I win!!!!

Agony of a Bomb!!!

“Excuse me Sir,” one voice came as I was passing by a Railway platform.
I looked around, but found none.
“Help me,” came the voice again. The voice had pain and agony.
I scouted but to fail again.
“Where are you? Why don’t you come in front of me,” I hurled umpteen questions, wondered and curious.
“I am here in the trash,” shivering voice came. I could feel its pain; it wanted to cry but was somehow controlling itself.
I glanced around to find a trash on my left side with “I am Hungry, feed me!!” on it, and a black bag inside it.
I guessed that sound was coming from inside the black bag.
I opened the bag to find my eyes wide open, extremely shocked and stunned.

It was a bomb!!!

Next 2 minutes we had no verbal conversation but only eye talk. Then the bomb started with tears, tears starting from his eyes and covering the entire contour of his face, then hiccups and then blubbing.

Bomb is a very dangerous thing, but finding it crying isn’t something we get a chance to see very often.

“Wh…Wha….What are you doing here?,” I was getting apprehensive as soon as I was getting the realization that I was very near a Bomb, the RDX bomb which would explode to demolish everything all around.

“I am here to destroy this platform,” the bomb replied and started weeping again.
“But why?” I was scared now, still gathered my courage to ask.
“I don’t know,” bomb replied, and as usual kept crying.
“What the heck!! You are here to destroy this place, kill hundreds of innocent people, and you don’t know why you want to do so.” I shrieked my lungs out.

No response!! Only a few hiccups.

“Why this volte face. Why are you crying,” I questioned, re-questioned and then kept questioning till he started.

“Can you see that man standing there,” bomb pointed by his finger to show some 28-30 year old man.
“He is an army man, and is going back to his village after 6 months. He is the sole bread earner of his family and is going on a 15-day vacation to meet his old widow mother, wife and a daughter” bomb told in his usual piteous voice.

“Can you see that child playing there with plastic bag,” he showed another 3-4 year old baby kicking some plastic bag.
I nodded.
“That couple standing at a little distance from him are his parents. They have been blessed with this baby after years of prayers and wait. That innocent child will come to me also, and may kick me ignorantly to get his life ended.”

“See that coolie there. He is the sole earner of his family of 4 children and sick wife. That newly wed couple who are married for only a month now,” the list was endless.

“Ravi,” bomb addressed me.

I was somewhere in thoughts, but his address made me stare at him.
“I have to kill them all,” bomb’s voice was shivering but had firmness.

“Can’t you stop,” I requested.
“I wish I could. I wish I could explode to end my life in the hands of that bastard only who planted me here. I wish I could rip him apart into pieces,” the voice had wrath.

“But I couldn’t. And now, I have a dharma to follow. The dharma of my purpose. My reason of existence,” bomb said.
“Can’t this destruction end? Can’t people be allowed to live peacefully? In no panic?” I asked.

“Not until the time you will keep differentiating yourselves into Hindus, Muslims, or into other religions. Not until you will think beyond religion to find another religion Humanity. Not until fanatists realize that we bombs don’t look before exploding that we haven’t to harm people of their religion,” bomb had a point.

Bombs don’t filter that if fanatists of X religion have planted a bomb, then people of x religion won’t be harmed. They equally do it to X as they do to Y. Then why this volte-face by fanatists on the name of religion?

“Can you do me a favor,” bomb asked.
“Yes,” I nodded
“Please defuse me to end my life before I explode. This way I will get a sweet death. A death which every bomb wants- Death by defusion,” bomb’s voice was happy now as he knew he had got a messiah who would consummate him before he explodes.

“Good bye Mate,” bomb said last before I took his connections off to defuse him.

“Get up Ravi,” answering machine sounded. This was Rexy.
“Calling you for last 10 minutes, why don’t you pick up your phone,” she shouted.
God!! I was in a dream.
But dream had a point. I wish I could tell those fanatists that bombs aren’t like those fanatists. Fanatists might differentiate between Hindus and Muslims, but these bombs won’t.

For them they have only one dharma. To kill people, Hindus or Muslims or even Christians or Sikhs.

I wished that Fanatists could read this post to stop planting bombs, if not for me, then at least for people of their own religion.

Now as I hadn’t picked Rexy’s phone for 10 minutes, I will have to compensate taking her to Barista or Coffee Café Day.
You know these Girls!!!
Need a reason for free coffee!!!

I have just returned from Barista. It’s evening 8 when I am writing this post. Though I met that Bomb in my dream, but its helplessness, its tears, and its satisfaction to die before exploding are still vivid in my memory. Like we had really met!!