Short Story: In Search Of New Homeland

It was the summer of 2017, Armaghan, a lower-middle-class boy from the boondocks of Kishanganj (Bihar) boarded a train for Delhi. Armaghan had just cracked the BA entrance examination of Jamia Millia Islamia University and was on platform 2 of Kishanganj railway station. With a sense of dismemberment and elation as well, he with his small family eagerly waited for the train. As usual, the Indian railway train was late by 5 hours. Though, the train reached and Armaghan boarded the train. His whole family was in a state of breakdown as their only son left for Delhi.

After 36 hours and a few minutes of harsh train journey, he reached Anand Vihar terminal. From there, he hired an auto for Abul Fazal Enclave. This is the area where most Surajpuri People live. Surajpuri is a socially and economically backward community to which Armaghan belongs. It was a matter of pride for his people on his selection to one of India's topmost universities.

He stayed at one of his relative's apartments. The hot muggy weather of Delhi was unfavourable to his survival instinct. His district Kishanganj witnesses the highest rainfall in the whole of Bihar, which makes the weather pleasant. In the case of Delhi, it rains like once in a blue moon. The annoying sound of the cooler increased his uneasiness and the physical exhaustion remained arrested. The morning in Delhi started with a peculiar sound of 'paani wala' and the darkness inside the room was still there. Unlike his hometown where sun rays directly fall on countenance.

The day was Wednesday and the last day of admission to the said course as well. He left the bed and headed towards the washroom to get fresh. The culture of breakfast was solely based on an individual's choice in Delhi. He had his breakfast and then arranged all documents in chronological order. He came out of the apartment and observed that Delhi hasn't slept.

On entering Gate 7 of Jamia, he was astonished. The beautification of Gulistan-e-Ghalib fascinated him beyond the starry sky. The department buildings, particularly separate buildings for separate departments, were much akin to his visualisation of Oxford or Cambridge. In Kishanganj, he found nothing like that. An ordinary building was enough to be called a college in his hometown. The admission process took around an hour. Every event that came across him was unbelievable for him, including the submission of course fees through bank deposits. The names of buildings in Jamia, from Ibn Khaldun to Noam Chomsky light the fire inside him.

But, above all, he had one dream. The dream was to become an IAS officer. I met Armaghan during the admission process. A lean, tall and curly-ruffled young lad with his feature phone in one hand and a plastic bag containing his documents in the other hand. His personality had an element of shyness. A sense of fear was in his mind while communicating. Perhaps, the fear of metropolitan chimaera. But what struck me was his love for his homeland.

After a week, our undergraduate classes started. Armaghan and I used to sit beside each other. He was very interested in literature and it wasn't my cup of tea in college. In no time, the first semester came. And before we knew it, we were in the penultimate semester of a total of six semesters. In academics, he was a rank holder. He had a passion for writing issues pertaining to his districts. The recent developments in his district used to make him antsy. He used to visualise his homeland being taken away. It was Delhi's chilling winter of 2019. And henceforth, the life of Armaghan changed completely.

The incident of 15th December 2019 was a brutal attack by Delhi Police inside campus against students who were protesting against the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA). Though Armaghan wasn't harmed, he was shocked to see how the administration allowed police to enter the campus. This provoked his thought and went on lecturing that "what benefit is of the constitution which you are reading when constitutionalism is systemically buried". This statement of Armaghan re-energised a small gathering and undertook an activity to protect students who were attacked. Followed by this incident, the Shaheen Bagh model was established.

The Shaheen Bagh model was cloned in every part of India. His district too witnessed it. His father, a revolutionary man in his thoughts and a blind believer in the Constitution, was leading the protest in Kishanganj. He was delivering speeches and making people aware of how their rights are being suppressed and their citizenship is at stake. This would definitely leave them in no man's land. His father was also leading an organisation named 'Surjapuri Development Organisation' and its sole motive was to get reservation. His community was categorized as SEBC and they hadn't given any reservation. His father, along with other literate people of Kishanganj, believes that the reservation policy will open doors for them in advancing their aspirations and progress in tune with other people of India.

But, an unfortunate incident took place. It came out that his father was arrested under UAPA. In a moment, all theories of political science and provision of the Constitution became scrap in front of Armaghan. He was helpless and shattered. Somehow, I managed to book a ticket for him and sent him home. His district comprises seventy per cent Muslim population. What is more appreciable is that the district never witnessed a little bit of communal spark either during the demolition of Babri Masjid in 1992 or the Gujarat riots of 2002. The people of Kishanganj believe in peace and communal harmony.

What could a lower-middle-class family do when there is a police case? The red tape-ism, Nexus and corruption takes a few generations to get the verdict. Leave justice alone. The national level protest was growing more rapidly and the people of Kishanganj were forgetting his father with the same speed. At the end of April 2020, the local newspaper published a news which titled, 'Undertrial leader died of corona'. And people didn't believe it. They believed it was murder. The shattering news was unbearable for his mother. She went into a state of depression and took less than forty days to let Armaghan mourn again the demise of his mother. The whole world changed around him. The responsibility on his shoulder before time made him excessively mature.

Covid -19 turned the whole world into screens. Somehow, he submitted his assignments through Google Classroom and finished with final semester examinations. The dream of becoming an IAS was diluted by circumstances taking over him. His relatives didn't come to contribute a penny for his education. He found no way to survive but to begin tuition classes. While chatting on WhatsApp, he once wrote to me. "My homeland is terrible now and people are heartless. But, I have to survive for bread and butter". I asked him to come to Delhi and do something of his choice. I meant preparation for IAS. To this, he responded, “I cannot let my homeland be seized again.”

And it was April 2023, when I was transferred to Kishanganj as an officer trainee in the post of Sub-divisional Magistrate (SDM). The next day of my joining I was sent to a protest area and was told by my senior officer to let the protest be in a peaceful manner. The protest was for the Reservation of Surajpuri at the National level. I was far away from the crux area of protest but I heard a speech citing constitutional articles and provisions. The tone of the speech was somewhat familiar. What I found was a young man, having a moustache and long hair; and he was none other than Armaghan. He was leading the protest and demanding from the central government to take the Surajpuri community into consideration for Other Backward Classes (OBC) reservation. After his speech, I went to meet Armaghan. I asked him, why not IAS? He said, "Beyond all such meta dreams, realism calls me. My homeland calls me to serve them. To hear them is to love them and to love my homeland is better than anything transient in nature". From here, if we succeed in getting reservation, more administrative officers will emerge from the Surajpuri community, he said. This reminded me of Palestinian national poet Mahmoud Darwish.

I have seldom seen such a bright and articulate man in my college days. When he spoke, he spoke and the whole class listened. He created a space for the Surajpuri community when there was none. He is rare in ability, courage and conviction. But I fear, he will fail like the brave amongst the weak. In search of a new homeland, Armaghan lost all homelands.