Topic started by Jeeva (@ 203.106.70.21) on Mon Feb 3 04:53:33 .
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Dear Amma & Appa,
I've written to you so many times. When I went on school tours, when I studied in college, when I finally got a job in faraway Mumbai… so many letters. And this is the last of them! It's funny -- you named me Jeevanandan, one who exults in life. Yet here I am writing my suicide note to you. You must have had great visions for your son, and yet I have hardly ever exulted in my life unless you count the innocence of childhood, when the reality of my caste had not struck me!
I am sick and tired of it all and I see no point in prolonging things further. By the time you read this letter, I would have long died and the question that would be predominant in your mind would be 'why?' It is this question that I am trying to answer in this letter. Not just for you, but for me too. I'd like to leave things orderly, leaving no room for doubt or rumor. They say that a man's whole life flashes before his mind's eye before he dies. So bear with me, while I take a brief trip down memory lane.
My earliest memories of childhood have been happy ones. We were poor, but it didn't matter much to me. There were a lot of boys of my own age in the street we lived in and I was content to play with them the whole day. Then you sent me to this place called 'school'. I remember it wasn't a very posh school. It was a local Tamil medium school and we had to go by the city bus that came at 8.00 a.m. sharp if we had to make it there on time. Not for us those school buses that used to bear away children in comfort and security. It was terrible initially till I discovered the joy of learning. After that I was the topper every year in all the subjects -- even English! English reminds me of Mallika who lived nearby. She was my classmate then and was prettier than was intelligent. She used to keep coming home, for help in English, which was her weakest subject. I remember that even then you never used to like her much. “She is not of our caste,” was grandma's view. You were less outspoken, but what could dissuade a boy of fifteen from being charmed by a young and good-looking girl? And charmed I was -- bewitched is more like it. I not only helped her in English but also in Maths and Physics. Not that it did much good to her anyway. Her mind was on other things and I was only too willing to oblige… However, to some extent my efforts were fruitful and because of them she managed to pass her school leaving exams.
I thought that would be the end of her education. As for me, I had grandiose visions of being an engineer. I was surprised, however, when Mallika also announced her desire to become an engineer. I could only pity her because she lacked the marks for admission to such a course. I wrote my entrance exams well enough, but till I got my results there was a terrible tension. Would I make it? Would I be admitted? Was I good enough? Though I did get the highest marks in my school, was I in fact capable of excelling in competition with others? So many doubts! And you both suffered too, along with me, silently, till the results came and I got admission in one of the top universities in Tamil Nadu. We were all so happy! And then Mallika came in and announced that she too had gotten admission in the very same university. Our first reaction was stunned disbelief. You were probably angry that what I had slogged night and day for, she could get very easily because of a single label. However, I was happy -- I would not be away from Mallika. I could still continue to see her everyday. Nevertheless I also realized for the first time the power of belonging to any particular caste. It had never mattered so much before, the issue of my belonging to any particular group or caste. Now, after countless application forms and days of unbearable tension, my caste was thrust upon me.
I still remember vividly the counseling session I attended. There were thousands of young fresh-faced hopeful students milling around the place. I was called to a desk and a sleepy-eyed portly person had my forms in front of him and without bothering to go through the details, started questioning me. One of his first question was, “Which caste are you?” When I answered, a frown appeared on his face. He then asked me which branch I wanted to take up in engineering. “Electronics & communication,” I answered immediately. He smiled indulgently. “Thambi, for that you will need very high marks. Something like 98% in you math and science aggregate.” I had not made it by a mere 1%. I had scored 97% but it was not enough to get what I desired. Instead I was given civil engineering. I was angry and so disappointed. The smugness of his face would haunt me forever.
Shortly after I ran into Mallika who said that not only had she gotten admission in the same college as I did, she had also been able to get a seat in civil engineering too. For the first time, I felt irritated at her. She having scored only 45% had received the same treatment as I, who had scored 97% did! Why should I be punished for what my forefathers did? If a murderer was not punished in his generation, what was the logic in hanging his grandson? I started wondering about the unfairness of it all.
I slowly became absorbed in the college routine. The caste instinct had been so thoroughly woken up in us by all the admission procedures, that for the first time, I looked for and made friends with other members of my caste. There were only three others in a class of 45. We four became the fastest of friends. Of course there was Mallika who was an exception, because I had known her for long and besides there were other feelings involved. The four of us fared the best in our class, not because of any inborn genetic intelligence trait peculiar to our caste as many elders of our caste proclaim, but simply because we had faced the toughest admission criteria and were naturally more intelligent and motivated than the others. This caused the whole class to turn against us though. I heard it whispered that the teachers favored us because we supposedly belonged to a higher caste. I couldn't help laughing when I heard this. Higher caste indeed!
Mallika failed in her first year itself in all the subjects, and had to repeat all her courses. She failed once again the next year and had finally did her second year when I reached my final year. Through all this, my feelings for her continued. It wasn't a question of having feelings as much as being completely besotted by her. She had now become a very beautiful girl and was much sought after. For some vague reason she continued to remain with me, and I was flattered. The final year also passed by very quickly.
My three friends had applied to go abroad for further studies and if possible, settle down somewhere else, not in India. I couldn't blame them, because I felt that at every stage we had studied in spite of our country and not because of it. I could only wish them luck some place where talent would be sufficient in itself and would not need additional labels. I could not afford to do this myself because I knew I had troubled you enough. We were after all not a very well off family and it was amazing that you could educate me this much. After all I did not get a government scholarship like Mallika did. Of course you couldn't strictly term it a scholarship. It was basically a 'casteship.' There were even special divisions in our library for people of her caste, in addition to the regular sections. These contained the latest journals and books and could not accessed by anybody else. Luckily I knew Mallika. She didn't care for these books much herself, but was willing enough to borrow them on her card and then lend them to me.
I completed the course and managed to get a job in an engineer's office. I couldn't in my wildest dreams hope for a job in the government -- not when all those reservations were in force to specifically keep us out. I got a meager salary and could hardly meet my own needs, let alone send any money to you. A year later I managed to get a job with a reputed construction company in Mumbai. It involved long hours and hard work but I did get a decent salary. Meanwhile after a leisurely stay of 7 years in college studying a four-year course, Mallika graduated from college. Even then it was only with a mere 50% overall total. Perhaps the first mistake I did was to take my boyhood crush seriously and actually marry her. It was around this time that I got transferred back to Chennai. In spite of all her failures and poor educational record, Mallika got a job in the Public Works Department (P.W.D). From there she could go only higher as promotion followed promotion and other less favored mortals with not so potent labels were passed over.
Throughout her life Mallika hasn't striven for anything she has wanted. It has all just fallen in her lap. So her attitude to life was very different from mine. Nothing was sacrosanct to her. She took her work as seriously as she would take a game. Initially when responsibility was thrust upon her, she was frightened and asked me for advice. I used to advice her to the best of my knowledge. With increasing power came more arrogance, till she deluded herself that she knew everything and was capable of handling everything. Deep down she knew that it was not true and hence started avoiding me even at home, except for the barest minimum of things. How many blunders were committed, how many lives lost, I can only guess… When power goes into the hands of those who don't deserve it or know how to make use of it, terrible things must happen. The horrors continued unceasingly. My wife was not the coy shy maiden I used to know. Instead, she was a corrupt officer drunk on her power, which made her about as dangerous as a walking time bomb. Time and again I watched it explode, but there always seemed to be more. So I waited for the final momentous blast. Nor was I disappointed. Only I didn't think it would involve me too…
It so happened that the company I worked for was chosen for handling a government project. I was in charge of the project from my company and I was to report to Mallika from the government. We could no longer avoid each other. The first time we discussed the project, I could only gasp in horror at her proposal. Then I thought over it and things became clearer in my mind. I unconditionally agreed to all her suggestions. Thus, when the documents showed that the building had 20mm steel rods, it was only 12mm rods that were actually used. The difference was turned into cash and went into Mallika's and a few other officials' pockets. Mallika couldn't comprehend what such a substitution meant. I could, but I kept silent. It was with the same silence that I watched 1:6 cement mixes becoming 1:12 and the cement saved was again translated into money.
Few of us can ever forget the tragedy when 2,000 people lost their lives in the newly built auditorium, as the roof caved in. The rest is history; the enquiry, the subsequent arrest of Mallika and me, the publicity… Our trial comes up next week. But I won't be there then, I have already accomplished what I wanted to. Do you think that it was for money that I accepted Mallika's proposal? Not so! The people who died then, they all deserved to die! Are you shocked?
It is one thing to encourage oppressed people by giving them reservations and facilities in education. It is another to keep things still dependent on caste after giving them education. At some level, excellence has to be the only criterion; else we will only see the rise of more and more Mallikas. When a country encourages mediocrity and prefers it to excellence, and then entrusts its life to this very mediocrity, it deserves to die. I have nothing against Mallika's caste. I have known brilliant people from all castes and what I am against is the encouragement of caste divisions and caste-based promotions by the government. Think of all the mediocre Mallikas, who are doctors, surgeons, scientists, entrusted with undeserved responsibility! Now do you understand why I had to go along with the scheme?
I hope you have understood the reasons behind my actions, because the world is not going to. I really see no point in living this charade further. Maybe I'll find happiness in the next world, unless God has only certain seats left in heaven, and even these are reserved for different categories of people, who have to meet certain levels of punya. In that case maybe I'll be better off in hell. After all, it won't be a such a new place…
Adios,
Jeevanandan
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