SHORT STORY: 2 RUPEE WORTH OF VILLAGES

 You know true fiction is in the facts. The way facts become fictionalized during the process of saying it is actually the place of sublimation, that is where, objective truth actually becomes subjective. Among these sublime fictionalized facts, are inter-generational stories that one generation narrates to the next generations. These stories serve dual aim, the parent generation wants to convey the generational wisdom to the young generation, the second aim, which I take out of it, it can represent the histories of the Sub-altern that got lost because they were not that eminent to be known. History should not be limited to the major events and the dialectical macro-movements but rather some stories which has no contributing content to major scheme of things, but they do matter because it is fun to read them, know them and smile about them. 

One such story My grandfather says every time I taunt him why he wears torn and wearied out clothes when he has decent clothes in the cupboard. He talks about his uncles who were apparently very brilliant academically. Let us begin the story now. 

In the village of Dhanaahi, in the district Aurangabad in Bihar, lived a Zamindar family of the Bhumihaar caste, that is my ancestry. "Dhanahi", the word literally means a place where money comes to. Ironically, the place was Drought ridden for many years during the colonial rule defeating the message of the name. This, once well off Bhumihar family faced a lot of distress but the leadership of the family of strong enough to not only survive the blow but also to save many lives of their village. At least, this is what My grandfather told me. Of course I know, the times we are talking about, the conditions of the poor and specially the Dalits were so bad and our ancestors, supposedly were not very helpful to them. Nevertheless, I think this village has always been a one caste village, that is, a Bhumihaar majority village. This caste is a dominant caste in Bihar and always in a power struggle with the Rajputs and with the advent of Lalu Yadav regime, with the Yadavs and socialists and communists. 

The protagonists of the story are three people, My grandfather's elder uncle. "Badka Kaka", the uncle next to him, "Majhila Kaka", and at last, "Chhotka Kaka". As decent grandchildren, we grew up listening to the valorous stories of these ancestors. They never really interested me for a long time, since these all seemed false and just glorified them. But, this small instance, really left a mark which I will document here. 

So, these three were very brilliant. Their peers used to tell my grandfather, then a little child, that they could even have become Barristers. Barristers used to be the epitome of every job back then, for obvious reasons. Gandhiji to Babasaheb to Nehru, all of them were Barristers. But why they didn't become. Let us see. 

That was the day of their admission to the college for bachelors. Three of them were very excited for their admission. Each showed a striking academic caliber from a young age and had intellectual capacities of different types. One could memorize anything very quickly, the other had great calculative abilities and the last and the eldest of them all, had great interpretative abilities and could find the undertone of every written text in Magahi or in Hindi. They were with their parent, who was an illiterate person. They went for the interview and passed with flying colors. Then came a point where fees were being discussed. Two rupees a year was the fees and in three years and Six rupees they could finish their BA in those days. It was I believe 1909-10. Their father said to the headmaster, "Thik hey Master Saheb, Hum Bhejam laikan ke Chutti ke baad!" or "Ok Headmaster, I will send my children after the vacation!". Coming back from the college, on their way to home, their father said to their children, "Ka Padh ke karbe, Chal 2 rupaiya mein ta Gaanv ke Gaanv nilaam howa hayi, Chal Gaanv le de hiyau, Raja ho jaihein aajhey!" or "What you guys will do after studying? In 2 rupees I can buy you villages of which you can become local kings from now on!" And these guys obeyed. That was the end of one generation of education in just one decision. Later it was the next generation and that also, only my grandfather, who thought of his own education and came out of his village to do a job. His decision is the reason why I might be writing this blog. I think about it. Were those villages worth only two rupees? The opportunity cost of them were too higher. It costed them not only their own education but also me, one generation worth of educational capital. 
Why did they obey? Why did they give up the pursuit of studies? My grandfather told me, "Because they were very obedient!" I think they really thought they got a good deal of 2 rupees village as compared to 2 rupees worth of education. Anyhow, one thing is clear, the cost of education of these three people were not just 2 rupees.