Scattered Fates by Ram Garikipati (best affordable ebook reader txt) 📕

‘Well not entirely true, our first two Presidents were actors: MGR and NTR. Our third president was not an actor – Jayewardene. This was followed by two other actors RaajKumar and Jaylalitha who is our present president.’

‘You have had five Presidents so far?’

‘Yes. In Dravida no one can serve for more than 2 five-year terms. We have two main political parties, the conservative DPF- Dravida Progressive Front and liberal DDP- Dravida Democratic Party. Only MGR and NTR, from DPF, could complete 2 terms, although NTR was President for 11 years, because of the 1993 war with Hindustan. Jayewardene and Raajkumar from DDP, again from DPF, lost after one term each,’ he noted.

‘So do you think Jayalalitha will complete 2 terms?’ she asked, avoiding his question.

‘Hard to say, she is a liberal who wants peace with Hindustan, but the conservative opposition is very strong and has a majority in the national assembly. Their possible candidates for the next elections are another actor, Rajanikanth, and a journalist Narsimhan Ram, whose family owns my newspaper. Actually, I personally prefer DPF. Why should we make peace with Hindustan? It has to be destroyed.’

‘How come you guys are so hung up on movie stars? They are just actors, who imitate real life on screen. Most of them are hollow.’

‘Hey, why this bias against actors? All our Presidents have done exceedingly well, and brought glory to our country. In fact they were all extremely popular in all four provinces, and responsible for my country’s development. Why don’t you complain about the background of US Presidents? A majority of them were lawyers. Hey wait, they also had an actor President, Ronald Reagan.’

‘You are right, occupations should not matter, but seriously, actors?’ ‘Films have a large and deep influence in our society. You will realize it during your stay here. I will take you to a couple of movies, and then you will appreciate the reasons. There that is the Madras Port to our left, and straight ahead is India Bazaar and Parry’s Corner.’

‘India Bazaar?’

‘Yes. It was set up in 1969, to help refugees who ran away from Hindustan during our Civil war. It was originally for Burmese refugees, but was expanded after the war. You get all Hindustani products and food here. There is also a small lane where you have very old restaurants serving Burmese noodle soup.’

‘I heard the noodle soup is delicious.’

‘How do you know? Lonely Planet?’

‘No, my father told me, he was here for a couple of months during his masters.’

‘Did he tell you about Corea Town?’

‘No. Is there a Corea Town here?’

‘Oh yes, there is. I have never been there, but have heard that there are many Corean restaurants for all the workers who come here.’

‘Any idea how many Coreans work in Madras?’

‘I don’t know the exact number, but I can check and let you know. We have a permit system for workers from other countries who want to come here. I think Corea’s quota is 2,000. Most of them work in the factories at Ambattur.’

‘So Corea Town is located in Am-baa-toor?’

‘Yes. It is at some distance, but we can go on the weekend.’

‘Thanks. I want to buy some Korean food.’

‘Like kimchi?’

‘Yes, so you heard of kimchi.’

‘Look, there ahead is our Parliament building Sriramulu Sabha. It used to be called Fort St. George, and was renamed after our independence.’

‘You mean that used to be a fort?’

‘I’m sure you read about the East India Company and British rule in your history lessons at school. The Company built this fort in 1644, to secure its trade lines and commercial interests in the spice trade. It got its name because it was completed on St George’s Day. At that time there were just some fishing villages, but it soon became the hub of merchant activity and Madras developed around this fort.’

Maya hated history and did not recall anything about the East India Company or the British rule in India. Her history lessons only dwelt with Chinese and Japanese oppression of the Coreans.

Better pretend to know.

‘Who is it named after?’

‘Potti Sriramulu. When we were one country, he fought for the division of states on linguistic basis. He belongs to my province Andhra, where they speak Telugu. At that time, we were still a part of Madras, and he fasted until death demanding a separate state.’

‘So he actually died and there were problems between people of different provinces in Dravida.’

‘Yes, but the civil war brought everyone together, to fight the common enemy Hindustan.’

‘So, what happens if every province wants a separate country now?’

‘It won’t happen. That is why we have the language policy that I mentioned earlier. There is no discrimination based on language, because everyone knows all the official languages. Also we have an unwritten rule that if our President is from one province, the Vice President is from a different. All political power is equally divided between the provinces,’ he said, wiping the sweat that was pouring down his forehead.

Although Naga begged to switch on the air conditioner, she wanted to experience the ‘sights and smells’ of Madras, seated comfortably in the car.

‘I heard one part wants to separate. Tangana?’

‘Telengana. Yes, they do, but that is because they are encouraged and sponsored by the Hindustanis. The region was under Muslim rulers from the 14th century that is why Hindustanis consider them culturally closer, although they are genetically Dravidians. I personally feel they should be made a separate province within the country.’

‘I heard they want to join Hindustan.’

‘No that is just a minority, a few terrorists funded by our enemy. The majority speaks Telugu and want to remain in Dravida. We even had a referendum to prove it, just like in Sri Lanka, when they decided to join Dravida in 1980.Look at Hindustan, they are denying a referendum to Kashmiris,’ he said, referring to the border conflict with Pakistan.

Slightly confused, Maya nodded her head sideways.

‘So you don’t know about the conflict over Kashmir?’

‘I do. That is why I nodded my head.’

‘Ha. You got it wrong. Sideways nodding means no and vertical nodding means yes.’

She nodded her head up and down this time, laughing.

‘You know, head nodding is something that most Dravidians do. It is a sign of politeness, which is alien to the Hindustanis. They are crass with no original culture. I am sure, if we had not become an independent country, today the world would have considered their culture and food as representing all of us. No one would have heard of our rich heritage.’

‘What do you mean? I met a few Hindustani students at my university, they were loud but certainly not crass.’

‘Our culture is more authentic and was never corrupted by the invaders from Central Asia. Our music, dance, architecture and literature are pure, even our food and curries are original. If we had remained a part of India, our culture would have got contaminated. The outside world would never have known that we exist,’ he sighed and continued. ‘The world would have recognized their movies as ‘Indian movies’, maybe they would have called it Bollywood after Bombay. Their food would have been recognized as Indian food, their borrowed music would be known as Indian music. Tourists would have seen the Taj Mahal and returned in the belief that they have experienced true Indian culture. There is so much they would have missed.’

‘Of course not, if your culture were different, everyone would have appreciated it like they do today. Your carnatic music is a rage, so are Dollywood movies and the idli-dosa.’

‘You really think so? That is because our software engineers, financial experts and call centers are famous in all corners of the world. The Hindustanis would never have allowed that to happen, even though they now only export contract laborers to the rest of the world. If we were still one country, they would have been cultural imperialists. Just like how you communists accuse USA. Outsiders would have been clueless of the rich diversity. I really pity Bengal, Northeast, Orissa, Gujarat and Maharashtra for not joining Dravida, the Hindi imperialists have destroyed their culture.’

Maya let it go. Maybe he was right, maybe he was not, this was not the time to get into an argument, but Naga was in full flow and rambled on.

‘They have spent so much money trying to defend Kashmir, without even holding a referendum. Luckily, it is no longer our money that is being thrown down the drain. If we were one country, our region would have earned the majority revenues that the Hindi politicians use to line up their pockets, paying lip service to development.’

‘When will we reach Marina?’ she asked getting a whiff of sea breeze, and trying desperately to change course.

‘Nearly there, I will drop you off at the entrance and find a parking slot. Do not go far. Keep my mobile, just in case you get lost. I will take just ten minutes,’ he said, handing over his phone.

#

Standing on the sidewalk, Maya felt violated by the harsh rays of the sun. She was overprotective of her smooth complexion, but was afraid that her Corean cosmetics were not suited for Dravida’s harsh weather. To her horror, a few pimples had already started pushing her forehead. It was 20 minutes since Naga left her, and she was growing impatient.

Why is it taking so long?

She stared at the road in front, as assorted fancy cars zipped by. Not used to seeing so many cars on the roads, it frightened her. She could spot a metro train rumbling on concrete slabs overhead at a distance, like a huge iron centipede. Across the road stood a majestic ancient red brick building, with the words ‘University of Madras’ on the steel signboard bouncing off the sunrays.Looking back she noticed a monument, with a huge beautifully laid out park in the center. An arch that looked like two converging elephant tusks adorned the entrance, and there was some kind of pillar like structure. To her right, was the long stretch of beach, and a few shops and restaurants cluttered the sides, the closest shade was the park. There was no option.

Unable to bear the heat any longer, she made her way towards the gigantic elephant tusks, all the while protecting her face with a newspaper that she had fortunately had the foresight to grab.

The park looked quite clean, and colorful with assorted flowers reaching for the sun. They had just been watered. There were plenty of benches under the shade of a massive banyan tree. The temperature seemed to have suddenly dropped by a few degrees as Maya approached.

She realized that this was some kind of a memorial.

Annadurai? Isn’t it the name of the airport?

The pillar like structure had a flame burning at what looked like a small tomb.The park looked big and the signboard stated that it was laid over an area of about 510 hectares, featured a small safari park, a nocturnal animal house, an aquarium and a museum.

A few couples were whispering in hushed tones, some even locked in a tight embrace, unmindful of the world.

What a contrast to Corea, where couples of the opposite sex were discouraged from showing their affection in public. In fact an organization called ‘Protect Corean Culture’, even went around public parks threatening and humiliating unmarried couples, and youngsters in western attire, even as the cops looked on.

She chose a bench, which provided a clear view of the spot where Naga left her, aware that he would not be able to hear her shout.

A loud gong startled her. She turned around and spied an ancient clock on a weather beaten wooden stand. It was 12 ‘o clock.

Her stomach rumbled as she realized that it was lunchtime in Pyongyang. She had still not got used to the one o’clock lunchtime in Dravida.Unfolding the newspaper, and spreading it across her lap, she hoped for some interesting articles to read. It was today’s edition of The Hindu.

What boring news. Nothing makes sense.

She flipped through the pages and sighed, folding it again.

‘Waiting for someone?’ a