Identity
Shilpi was her gregarious
best at the party. Wearing an azure blue saree, she was looking all resplendent
and vivacious. But among these glitz and glamour lied an emptiness difficult to
fathom for an outsider. Her smiles were all too wry as if strangulated from
inside. Not that she had something to complain about her life. She was endowed with
a sprawling Bungalow near the posh Jayanagar area in Bangalore, a husband who
is a high flying corporate honcho, caring in-laws and what not! She herself had a cushy job as an actuary in a
foreign firm. But there was something else at the pretext. Shilpi, a lady in
her late 20s, is a Bengali from Kolkata who did her engineering in the
prestigious R.V. College from Bangalore. She met Krishna, a Kannadiga who was
one year senior to him at R.V. and fell in love with him eventually. Marrying
him was a difficult proposition, against the wish of her parents, family
members and even few of her Bengali friends. It was a smooth ride though for
the first few months post marriage. However, as time started passing by, she
started developing a sense of alienation to the place and its people. Ironically,
it started in her family itself when Krishna started becoming ritualistically
rigid on many issues. Initially she ignored those altercations between them as forgettable
but later she assumed them to be a derivation from her being a non-Kannadiga. In
the office space too, people had a different take on an ‘outsider’ earning
bread in Bangalore that made her uncomfortable. In the social circle too,
people made avoidable comments. Her broken Kannada was of little help and many
started trolling her indirectly. The language and cultural barrier was taking
its toll and she became dry from inside.
It was 1’o clock at night
and the party was over and she slowly made her way to the car after bidding
good bye to the host. Ramana was waiting for her near the gate. This loyal
driver of her in law’s family is a soft spoken quinquagenarian. He opened the
door for her and she quietly slid her way into the big sedan, resting her
aching back on the leather crafted seat. Whitefield to jayanagar is a 30
minutes journey at this traffic less time. As the car started moving, she
brooded over the chain of events happening in her life. Why does she feel like
getting ostracized more and more? Why does she feel like getting into the
clutches of anonymity? The inner burden coupled with a tiring party made her
look clueless and perplexed.
She was about to doze off
and the car stopped with a screaming screech near! ‘Ramana, what happened? She
exclaimed! ‘Madamji, look in front!’ Shilpa anxiously looked in front and saw
around four people standing in front of the car stopping it from moving
forward. Ramana moved his head out and asked them to move. They came close and started
speaking to him in the native language. It went on for few minutes before one
of them asked Shilpa something in kannada. Shilpa replied, ‘kya keh rehen ho
bhaiya, kannada gothilla’ (I don’t know kannada)! That was it! The people,
apparently drunk, started hurling abuses at her. To her sheer horror, one of
the miscreants tried opening the back door. In a blink of an eye Ramana came
out and pounced on those four and a melee followed. Shilpa started shouting for
help. It all happened near the Silk board crossing and luckily for her a nearby
police patrol rushed in quickly and nabbed two of them before the other two ran
into the darkness beside the service road. Ramana was bleeding profusely and
was taken to St. Joseph’s hospital nearby. Shilpa and Krishna both attended
Ramana many a times for the next few days unless he was completely out of
danger.
One week has passed since
the incident and it is still a nightmare for the 20 something. She just
couldn’t stop thinking about it. Anything could have happened that day! It’s
not that she has not heard about these type of incidents before in Bangalore
but the fact that it was she who faced it made her nervous. She couldn’t
stopped thanking Ramana more. She owes a lot to this man.
Next Sunday she was going
through the newspaper while sipping her tea. She was flipping the pages in a
careful careless manner when her eyes stuck on this small news piece. It
mentioned that The ‘Bengalis in Bangalore’ community was looking for a rented
place for their office! She had a wide smile on her face as their two bedroomed
ground floor apartment was vacant. She called up Krishna immediately and to her
utter surprise Krishna happily agreed on this proposal. He even wished to
convince her parents. After a long time Shilpa was smiling. Why everything is
suddenly looking hunky-dory? Nothing apparently changed but it seems all have
changed. She was baffled with the paradox.
The same Bangalore which
treated her inconsistently have people like Ramana. It is the same city where a
kannadiga’s house was given for rent to so called ‘outsiders’. So what has
changed? She started looking things from a different prism now. ‘What did I do
to make myself comfortable to the city?’ She had a monologue, ‘always kept on
expecting things in my favour’! It was time for her to move forward. She has
promised herself not to complain anymore and confront the issues head on.
After opening her laptop
and carefully scanning through the local yellow pages, she seemed happy with what
she has got. She picked up the phone and called, ‘Hello, this is Shilpi from
jayanagar.Do you teach kannada?’!!


Comments
The first line speaks a lot about the story, and this one had me hooked from the very beginning. The story is beautifully woven and is a delight for bibliophiles and logophiles out there.It was a smooth glide of emotions. I'm so happy that I got the opportunity to read such amazing work.