The creases on the 36-year-old’s face aren’t a result of premature ageing but of worry and uncertainty for the future of his family. Yadav’s house is just one among the hundreds of houses destroyed by the MNS in a bid to oust the “outsiders” from Maharashtra, who they believe have no legitimate claim on any of the state’s resources.
While the two children continue to scamper around their new play area, oblivious to regional politics, Yadav has made up his mind about returning to his village, forfeiting promises made to all those back home. After the anger and infuriation, come the disappointment and finally a sense of resignation.
Vasudha, Yadav’s wife, appears dazed and lost as she looks at the pile at her feet that once contained her sphere of existence. The tears have all but dried up and now, she responds with a meek chant of “Hum to bole the wapas chalo, par yeh nahi sune. Ab dekho koi ghar baar hi nahi raha.” Yadav lost his job, his house and his identity, a price that he had to pay for not being born at a place where he earned these assets.
It took just one incident to vaporise everything that the family had created over a decade. “Kaisa dost, hum koi Yadav ko nahi jaante” is all that Madhav Shinde, Yadav’s co-worker and comrade for all erstwhile reasons, says before scurrying away hurriedly. Perhaps, friendship and human relations will be the first to perish in the militant chauvinism and parochial war waged by the MNS against the North Indian workforce of Maharashtra.
Mumbai has always been a Jekyll and Hyde state, with a fleeting memory span: warm, embracing and cosmopolitan at one level, but unforgiving, narrow-minded and provincial at another. That Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) leader Raj Thackeray has chosen to reveal the darker side of Mumbai last week, should come as no surprise. For more than four decades now, Mumbai’s carefree, ‘bindaas’ spirit has wrestled with the forces of nativity and sectarian politics. In a city that prides itself on its comforting urbanism, violence and intimidation has always lurked in the shadows.
It is questionable whether the Marathi middle-class feels the same sense of anger and alienation. Sure, there is a never-ending battle for Mumbai’s scarce resources, especially housing, but the ‘enemy’ isn’t so well defined any longer. Comfortably ensconced in the new economy, the aspirations of the new generation of Maharashtrians, like most communities, are going well beyond clerical serfdom. Then how many of these see the UP-Bihari taxi driver as ‘competition’? How many Maharashtrians actually feel threatened by the so-called ‘invasions’ of Bhojpuri culture?
It's time the self proclaimed ‘custodians of the rights of the sons of the soil’ realize that the trains from Gorakhpur and Patna to Mumbai Central aren’t going to stop in the tracks because a lumpen mob insists on it. While the Thackerays and their merry men continue to make this a provincial issue and derive sadistic pleasure out of their game, for the Yadavs and Sharmas, who have nothing to do with this, it is the return to nothingness.