“I am not returning to this place ever again”, and he walked off leaving his family with a mind made up of never coming back…

India, the third world country, the outsider’s world, the land of villages. These are the most common keywords used to describe India. My friend Raman is one such outsider from a village called kashigarh. But, I know him as a friend from work and a kind-hearted human. On every office trip, he brags about the beauty of his village and how urbanization is ruining it though quite ironically, he is a flourishing part of the very same system with almost every modern facility, unlike the cliche that we know about the villages of the Country.

Sometimes, we enjoy listening to his descriptive and beautiful image of an Indian village. Still, some other times he describes the same old Bollywood cliché as if nothing has changed over the decades. He could be right. Well, I haven’t been to any village in my memory that I can recall. So, I can’t speak for that matter. 

But we always sympathize with villagers and speak as if their voices are muted. This could also be true; I mean village politics is considered the most complex form of the subject. But, what can one do, everyone has to fight their own war and get defeated to understand the democratic system of India. Meanwhile, coming back to Raman, there is an anecdote, he described at the time we were high on booze, and it pleased my heart, I have only listened to it in my drowsy consciousness but can remember the scene to its utmost beauty.  

Raman started on a low key:” Our house is the tallest in the entire village, and from the rooftop, you can see almost the whole village except for the part that is covered by Giant Banyan in the north. Whenever I visited my village, I preferred to spend my evenings on the rooftop as there were countless stories, melodious quarrels, and above all the most beautiful sceneries one can ever witness.”

Then I opened a Johnny walker and started pouring it into the glass, and Raman continued:” I remember, one such evening that I can never forget. Eating paan, I was walking on the roof looking at the mightiness of the banyan, the hardship of people on the outskirts, big farmers running their tractors, and small ones molesting bulls to tear the land apart and then stitching it up with the thread of seeds and warmth of the water. Mr. Shastri was practicing Ahir Bhairav( An interpretation of Raag Bhairav) that resonated with my heartbeat, his students singing so beautifully, Lord Shiva himself seems to be in their voices, and my cousin roaming with me with his headphones on, listening to Coldplay. BTS. I felt terrible for his loss, but it is what it is.” 

Everything was great till now, I don’t know what exactly happened, but he made a serious face as if there was a major twist in his mental vlog. Slowly putting down the glass of liquor, he coughed complaining about the hardness of the drink. Then adding some coke in it, he resumed the anecdote:” So where was I.“ “your cousin, listening Coldplay and all” – “ yes yes, so I was about to spit my saliva created due to paan and found that from the banyan tree a man was tied with some 30 agitated people surrounding him, the thick and long bamboo sticks (Lathi) could be seen prominently with some “mashaals” and a middle-aged priest looking man, with a pitch sharper than Shastri Ji’s very eager to beat the bounded person to death.” 

There was an awkward silence in the room, Raman continued” I had never witnessed such an incident in my life, and was shocked and frightened at the same time. I ran down two floors to my grandpa and told him about what I saw. I was breathless at the time and had never thought that such a thing could happen in my village. Grandpa told me to call my uncle, who was the head of the village assembly, the panchayat. I rang him and said: ‘Chacha, there are people about to kill a person under banyan.’ He knew the fact beforehand and was on his way to the Banyan. I also rushed there with my cousin and pushed the crowd aside to reach the man. Though nobody touched me as my family was powerful, they all unanimously told me to leave the matter alone, and that I don’t know anything about the issue. 

Honestly, I was scared, who wouldn’t when 30 men and women are seeing you with their dead cold eyes and clear intention to kill. Even death will have second thoughts. In that very state, I was waiting for my uncle to reach. Specifically, due to the man who was beating opera with his pitch, he was looking at me as if I had scratched his guts, I really never thought that evenings could be this horrible. The man who was tied, was roughly twenty-five, with numerous head injuries, a broken leg, and a blood-streaming nose, almost on the verge of his death. Chacha finally reached some ten-odd men and ordered them to clear the crowd, seeing the condition of the victim he untied and ordered his treatment and decided to conduct a village assembly there. I was witnessing “The Panchayat” for the first time, several chairs were put with chacha sitting at the center, and the whole crowd gathered in a circle with the victim and accused the center, My cousin had called the police who were just standing still as the mob, respecting the Pradhan, and the victim was stabilized and made conscious.”

We were all into the story at this moment, and no one was drinking anymore. He continued:” The Pradhan, My Uncle then asked them both what’s the matter. The beaten guy just cried and was not able to say anything. The hothead, on the other hand, told Uncle that, He (the beaten guy) was a kahar ( A caste considered inferior by high caste people such as brahmins and Kshatriyas as per The Varna system), and was eating sitting next to me ( the other was a brahmin high-caste).”

Everyone sitting there was having two thoughts, either Raman was too drunk, or that was not 2019, anyways there was a unanimous expression of disbelief around the room and Raman said:” This, this very expression on your face was mine when I heard this. But surprisingly my educated uncle was seriously thinking over the topic and immediately announced the verdict without listening to the other side of the story, In a grumbling voice, he stated:’ This kahar shouldn’t have done what he has done. But, nobody will kill him it’s a matter of my reputation, and human rights people are also very active these days, just kick him out of the village for what say, five years and close the topic. Meeting over, go home’ Everyone started retreating, and policemen standing there escorted the fellow to the railway station. His family also didn’t say a thing as they had to live in the same village and the Banyan was alone at last. I left that place, that village the very same day and I’m not planning to return there ever.”

Raman completed his drink, made another one, and went to the balcony as it was the evening.