The bus winds its way through the newly built six lane expressway, amidst dry arid expanses, thatched huts, semi pucca whitewashed houses, camel drawn carts, run down tractors, buses and cars. The journey from Delhi to Jaipur is anything but scenic. Perhaps for a foreign traveler it might be interesting, but the interest is more from the novelty of the view rather than from any inherent beauty.
The summer sun beats hard against the blackened windows of the AC bus. I glance at the dryness and barrenness of my surroundings, snug in the artificial comfort bubble of the bus as it whizzes through the hot dusty road. I look out the window with an unattached, faraway gaze at the men toiling in the fields - dry, brown fields. We cross behror, which people here call midway. It isn’t exactly midway between Delhi and jaipur, but somehow the name has stuck. Behror hasn’t changed in the last 20 years that I recall going on this road. The same pink, semi palatial architecture, cheap imitation of the jaipur style of architecture. The same counters, the same food menu, the same garden layouts. Twenty years and not a thing has changed. But then that is the way most of Rajasthan is - change is slow here - like a desert camel sifting its way amidst the sand dunes of the thar. Losing direction, halting many times, altering courses. Progress here is slow, unsteady and superficial.
This used to be my home once. All this and every bit of it. I remember as a child when I used to travel to Calcutta for my summer vacations, returning home always made me feel glad. The site of the brown arid fields was then a pleasure to my senses after the overbearing greenness of Bengal. Everything about Rajasthan and specifically about Ajmer made me immensely proud and happy. People leave Ajmer with a happy heart and a light foot. Who doesn’t want to escape from the rut and moribund of a small semi urban town into the modern world. But I remember having left it with a leaden heart and moisture in my eyes.
I was leaving my city beloved. My land, my people and my customs. My streets, my playfields and my markets. My school and school friends. I was leaving behind a part of myself here. I promised to return.
The first year of college I looked forward to returning home. Every homecoming in those first few semester ends has given me unparalleled joy. I remember them and I know that I have never felt so much excitement ever in my life earlier. Those were emotionally charged homecomings. Staring out the window to collect as much of the land a possible, trying to recollect insignificant incidents that happened on place along the road, egging the driver to hurry.
But today, after five years of staying away from home, a strange disenchantment has set in. There is definitely no emotion, no excitement in these returns. In its stead I find a critical, condescending, impatient feeling. I can no longer relate to this place, try as hard as I would. And I can no longer relate to the people. Worse still, I cannot refrain from looking down upon them as organisms existing in a stagnating quagmire of social belief systems.
Five years of living away from home has given me this outsider’s perspective to this land and its people. And I cannot help but be critical of it. Of late, every time I return to Jaipur and Ajmer, I notice the superficiality, the emptiness of the people. The lack of vision, the absence of sensitivity to ones surroundings stares at you squarely in your face.
For the average Rajasthani progress and development have extremely materialistic connotations. Nice clothes, bank balance, a sleek car, a swank address, the latest mobile phone, the list is long. But nothing on this list has anything to do with mindset changes. The average Rajsathani will give you a strange look if you ask him whether he has a personal library. The average Rajasthani still thinks women are second grade citizens, who should live in homes, cook, clean and bear children.
The average Rajasthani still sees the world through the glasses that his or her grandfather wore. The world hasn’t changed a bit since then. Except of course for the cars and mobile phones.
Education too has a different meaning here. Education is BA, MA, MCA, BE, MBBS. It’s measured in degrees. By the number of alphabets that are suffixed to your surname. Education has nothing to do with learning. Education has nothing to do with civic behavior and social sense. Education is not an end in itself. It’s just a means to an end. A ticket on a flight to riches and better life.
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