The Big BONG Theory

       Ever since my first encounter with the fiery Bengali folks in early 2010, I am a changed man. I am in love with everything about Bengalis - their rapidly spoken lingo, their weird slangs such as bokachoda (loosely translated as foolish f*****), their Anglo-Bangla accent where the English alphabet and vowels lost all their sense of  phonetics and, bhecame bheri bheri fhonny sounding :)

      The plethora of food, right from savoury snacks like Golgappa and  Jhaal mudi to sweets like  Paish and Chitrakut, and traditional meals like Luchis with the choto aam misthi jhol (small-mango-sweet curry), their fearless socio-political ideas, their soulful music such as  Mohiner Ghoraguli (plagiarised by Pritam in Gangster) and Art movies like Paath'er Paanchali, Antaheen and The Japanese Wife  have endeared me to them. This endearment is so overwhelming that when I meet a stranger who happens to be a Bengali, I tend to strike a conversation and crack a joke with him in Bangla, much to his shock and my amusement!

The good ol' Bullee is now,  Bongo bondhu Bullee Moshai, loosely translated as Mr. Bullee, the friend of Bengalis.

     It happened in Hyderabad during the months of Jan and Feb 2010 during the Initial Learning Program of the IT company I had joined. I was away from my family for the first time, in an alien land with no one to call my own. I had been brought up in a very protective environment, where I was dependent on my family for everything, with limited sense of responsibility and freedom. For this reason I was apprehensive when I left Bengaluru. What waited for me in Hyderabad was a culture shock- A batch full of Bengali and Oriya people who all belonged to the same university, knew each other and also had their own friends' circles.

But I am no underdog.

      I found Bangla and Oriya to be linguistically similar, and to me Konkani and Bangla sounded similar too. Putting together all the similarities, I picked up Bangla rapidly and in 2 weeks, I was in a position to engage in a mild conversation with a native Bengali speaker, and embarrass even a hardened Bengali in a competition of swear words! (Special thanks to Sudip Chandra Mitra aka Robot) This, and my Life Skills class oratory and comic timing (Hats off to our zesty coordinator Sreedevi Nagnur) coupled with my entertainment quotient, social concerns and friendly demeanour won me a whole lot of friends. Sometimes, people who did not even know me personally but had heard about me from their friends, would come and talk to me, share a joke or two. Then, they would invite me to their flat for a gathering and walk away with a glow of satisfaction on their face when I replied in affirmative!

      My guitar sessions with Avik and Chasu in the spacious living room of our flat where we sang songs like Bheegi Bheegi, Lukka Chhupi, Nirvana, Give me some Sunshine, Tu hi re and Bangla songs like Prithibita Naki.. were an instant hit with the tenants of our co-ed hostel. We sometimes had clandestine visitors who secretly listened to our jamming sessions, by crowding the staircase near our flat window! An Everybody Loves Anish situation prevailed, making me thank the Almighty for giving me the best time of my life! (upto that point in time)

     Before long, I couldn't help but notice the likeliness in Konkani and Bengali culture, clothing, jewellery, worship, festivals, wedding customs, bridal wear to name a few. There had to be a link. All this compelled me to research my forefathers' history and genealogy to find out the missing link between Bangla and me. I found that the community that I belonged to, the Gauda Saraswat Bramhans were a community whose existence was chronicled in the Puranas, Ramayana and Mahabharata. We were settlers along the mystical River Saraswati in North India, which is how we were called Saraswat. All was well until thousands of years ago, when the grand river dried up and changed its course due glacial changes in the Himaalayas. The once fertile Rajasthan, Kutch and Sindh became deserts and this event forced the mass migration of the Saraswat community to the banks of River Ganga, and led them to the blessed land - Gauda Desh - which was the ancient name - for modern day  B E N G A L.

      The Saraswats prospered here and absorbed the traditions, cultures and the language of the land and had a good life. In 1000 AD, the king of Gauda desh sent 96 families of Saraswats to settle down in Gomantaka Desh - - Goa and flourish, as he had a marital alliance with the King of Gomantaka. Those 96 families that came down to Goa were called Gauda Saraswat Brahmans by the local people, refering to their place of origin. The Saraswats who remained in Bengal mingled with the local population and lost their unique identity, while these 96 - 'shud-navi' (Origin of the name Shenoy) families - "shud" meaning 6 and "navi" meaning 90, most of them being educated and experienced in trade, administrative services and Mathematics recieved the patronage of the Kadamba kings and flourished in Goa.

      Again, all was well for another 500 years, until 1500s when the Portuguese landed in Goa and replaced the local kings. The religious intolerance of Alphonso de Albuquerque, the policy of INQUISITION under which Hindu holy places were destroyed, combined with the forcible conversion of the local population forced the mass exodus of the Konkani people further South, along the west coast, to places like Mangalore, Udupi and Kerala. I found that my family, was among the ones that settled in Udupi. I was filled with a sense of pride and admiration when I knew this :)  At last, I had found my Bong Connection.

      I was growing up, mentored by Sabiha. I was just beginning to discover new facets of Life, shown to me by Avik and Uttam. The fearlessness of Chasu and Hula, and the light hearted-seriousness of Sudipto and Sapto were beginning to permeate inside me.

But the 45 days passed sooner than I thought.

    One by one, all my buddies departed to different cities, not even one going to my destination - Bengaluru. I was all alone. Sometimes I wonder, if I should have chosen Mumbai over Bengaluru, and given life a chance. The times that followed were very hard for me. I was reminded of my Bengali friends,  every moment; and their advice, laughter, care, love and all the good things they had inside them, which they showered on me.

Life became monotonous again.

      I always wondered when things would be normal again; like in Hyderabad my beloved city. And Lo. A miracle. It was as if the Almighty heard my plea, in August. I consider my new Bong team mates to be a God-sent gift;...

An answer...
To my long standing ... Guzaarish! (request)

Mother India and Micro-Finance

   

        We watch so many movies these days thanks to uTorrent and the Internet! Even those art movies that are not available in most video rental stores, are now freely available to the niche audiences that desire them. Some of these movies are very touching, and leave so big an impact that the viewer's life is turned around; he is awakened from the core and begins to see a new meaning for his existence.

One such movie is Mother India.

         Mother India is a realistic story of a simple Indian farmer, the hardships he has to face, his exploitation at the hands of the lecherous local money lender, and his ultimate betrayal by the Indian Monsoon. Released in 1957, the story revolves around the life of the newly married farmer Shamu (Raaj Kumar) who takes a loan of Rs.500 ($67 in 1957 dollars) from the money lender to cover the expenses of his wedding with Radha (Nargis). They have a happily married life and are blessed with a son. Shamu, feeling very joyous about his son and the freshly cut harvest, begins to distribute parts of the grain to the poor and needy. All is well.

           At this juncture, the money lender enters  the scene and claims that the harvest belongs to him, and that Shamu doesn't have any rights over its ownership. Shamu thinks that the money lender is playing a joke on him. But then, the money lender brings forth the loan contract bearing the thumb-impression of Shamu. It turns out that Shamu was illiterate, and was duped by the money lender into entering into an unfair contract which said that Shamu had to give away three-fourths of his harvest to the money lender as "interest" until Shamu paid back the Rs.500 loan. Shamu is enraged, as three-fourths of the harvest was on any day more valuable than the Rs.500 he owed, and presents his case to the village elders, who rule in favour of the money lender, so as to appease him and not put the rest of the village into problems related to the availability of easy credit, however unfair the terms of which be.

         Shamu is not bogged down by this crisis and is determined to pay back the principle amount before the next harvest to avoid losing any more of his hard earned produce. He and his wife work hard in the sowing season and are very soon confident that the contract conditions would be met much before the harvest. But the Indian Monsoon plays spoil sport and drought sets in. Shamu's crops wither away due to the lack of water, and Shamu is compelled to sell his wife's jewellery and his farm bullocks to pay the money lender the equivalent of his "interest". Meanwhile, one more member is added to the family. Shamu and Radha, raise their family bravely facing all hardships.

         In order to pay off their mounting debt, Radha and Shamu decide to cultivate the rocky patch of land that they had hitherto not cultivated, due to the rugged terrain. Fate plays a cruel joke while Shamu is using his hands to clear the huge boulders, and both of Shamu's hands are crushed in an accident. Shamu is totally devastated. To perform even day to day activities, he is compelled to take his wife's help, which the wife provides without a grudge. There is a very touching scene where Shamu's 2nd son Birju (Sunil Dutt) holds a Beedi cigarette to his Dad's mouth while Shamu smokes it. Six year old Birju is mischievous, and takes a few drags himself! Radha serves her husband with utmost devotion, but Shamu thinks he is a burden on his family, as he is not a working member anymore, and leaves his family. He is shown to have gone to an undisclosed holy place to beg for alms.

   

       Again, Radha and the kids work hard on the land and manage to raise a healthy harvest. Radha has a baby daughter. But, a storm sweeps through the village destroying the harvest and leveling all the homes. Radha's youngest child dies in the midst of all this. The villagers start to migrate but decide to stay and rebuild  their lives upon Radha's request.

15 years later -

       The movie is all about the strength of Radha, who singlehandedly raises her family and pays off her debt. Birju, embittered by the wickedness of the money lender since his childhood takes out his frustrations by pestering the village girls, especially the money lender's daughter. The elder son Ramu on the other hand, has a calmer temperament and is married soon after.  Birju becomes a highway bandit and harasses the money lender and plays Robin-hood by helping the villagers. The film ends after a while when Birju is shot dead by his mother.

        I was shaken after watching this movie. For a long time I kept thinking this - "Why did the poor, hard working farmer have to undergo All this in the first place?"

If he had gotten a loan from a bank with a well defined and reasonable rate of interest, he need not have gone to the wicked loan shark. But alas; I found that our system is so uptight that our banks did not give out loans to small time farmers whose land-holdings were not big enough to grant a loan. When approached, the banks out-rightly denied loans to small farmers, while favouring big farmers at the same time, so that the banks could be sure that their investment would be returned on time. Most farmers are too confused to know about the devious procedures our banks have. Even well educated youngsters like myself are intimidated every year when we pay our college fees (or perform other financial transactions,) standing in the long queues at the bank counters, dealing with unclear documentation requirements and unruly clerks, who do nearly everything possible to increase our hardship.

        In 2008, the Govt. of India announced a Rs. 60,000 crore ($13.6 billion in 2008 dollars) farm-loan waiver for Indian farmers to save them from never ending debt. The farmers were very happy about this, but their relief was short-lived. The fine-print said that only those loans that were obtained from one of the Nationalized banks were eligible to be waived off,. The small time farmers were doomed. The farmers with large land holdings, who had consequently obtained their loans from big nationalized banks were given the waivers, while the farmers with small land holdings, who actually needed the waiver because of their never-ending loans from local money lenders under exorbitant interest rates, were not given the waiver. In India, the welfare measures taken up by the govt. somehow do not reach the needy. They get lost somewhere along the distribution channels in the mouths of avaricious govt. servants.

That was when I heard about Mohammad Yunus.

       An economics professor at Chittagong University in Bangladesh in 1970s, Mohammad Younis was disturbed by the poverty around him, which only worsened with crop failure and famine that were raging on at that time. He started out by making small loans to the poorest of the poor people who had no papers, land, jewelry or other signs of credit worthiness or collateral. He told them that it was a loan, not a gift, and that they ought to pay it back when they could afford to do so. He relied purely on the goodwill of the people to return the loans.

        The people were touched by his gesture. No one had ever extended to them such a helping hand in their lives, literally or as a figure of speech. They were so happy upon getting the much needed monetary support that  they put their heart and soul into their work. They got the maximum output out of it, and returned the principle amount with a huge sense of gratitude; not to mention, a small interest amount as well. Its a well known fact that the repayment rates for micro loans are well above 98%, ie ~2% default, whereas regular loans given to well to do individuals and institutions default at much higher rates.

This was the birth of  Micro Finance.

         Slowly, Md. Yunus extended his operations all over Bangladesh and alleviated millions of lives out of poverty. He won a Nobel Prize for this feat in the year 2006. Now his Foundation works worldwide to help people. Few of such organizations exist in India though.

          One thought kept coming over and over in my mind. . . What if. . .

         What if? ..an educated, liberated and empowered Indian, could take up an MBA in Finance; work in this field and gain valuable experience about raising and lending capital, and then start a Micro-finance organization with best practices to uplift the millions and give them a decent life.

          How awesome would that be? !

(To end this post on a more earthly-note: On the sets of  MOTHER INDIA, Sunil Dutt fell in love with Nargis who played his mother's character, and married her in 1956. Our very own superstar Munnabhai Sanjay Dutt was born out of this adventure in 1957.)  Lagey Raho !