ARSHAD & RAHIL

DO WE REALLY SIDE WITH THE UNDERDOG?

All of us would like to convince ourselves that we side with the underdog. But do we? It is
my experience that the underdog is more likely to get your sympathy or pity if you would
like to have it that way, but it is more likely that the party that is more likely to win that
would actually get the support. Though many of us would like to convince ourselves that
we stand for the truth, I have profound doubts about this. People would prefer to say ‘We
won!’ People would love to say ‘They lost!’ And in this basic instinct of wishing to be with
the winners that you find that what is more popular is likely to get support, and in a
prophecy fulfilling way, result in an actual victory for the unjust, the powerful, the corrupt,
or the more visually attractive, appealing and seductive in contrast with what could possibly
stand for the truth.

If you have been a smoker, and if you have been an underling, it is more likely that you
would be told rather brusquely – ‘Please don’t smoke here’, while you would have seen the
very same hosts being rather circumspect about telling another smoker at a different time
the very same thing, especially if he appears clearly successful and imposing.

Take the attitude of Indian women to Indian men. I recall an incident that happened in
Buffalo many years ago. I was lucky to meet two Indian Muslims at the New York YMCA,
when I had been to visit the U.S. in 1984. The two – Arshad and Rahil, were brothers who
were then living in Torrence, CA and had migrated to the U.S. a few years before, after their
petrol bunk was torched by a certain political faction in Bombay. As I ventured out of my
room to take the elevator to the ground floor, I happened to meet these two near the lift.
They gave a warm smile and we introduced ourselves. New York was a dangerous place
those days, and I suggested to them that we stick around with each other as we traverse the
city (specially after dark) as there was safety in numbers. It was a very warm association
that I had with them and I was amazed at their total lack of bitterness towards India
despite a terrible traumatic experience their family had.

After my stint in New York it was time for me to move to Connecticut. They had planned to
visit Atlantic City and later travel to Boston (which necessitated them to pass through
Connecticut) and thence to Canada by renting a car and driving around. After we parted
cordially, and after about three or four days when I was at my cousin’s house in Orange,
Connecticut, I was surprised to get a call from the brothers. They told me that they were
heading to Toronto and asked me if I was keen to go with them. They were exceedingly
generous to spare me from sharing the costs of the car and petrol and the room rents (“We
realize you are not an NRI and you won’t have enough money!”) and told me that I would
only have to pay for my food. I was only too keen to accept the offer and left with them
with Toronto as our destination.

There was a problem. I did not have a visa for Canada and to visit Toronto I would have to
get one from Buffalo. We were heading for Niagara Falls, but the brothers, generous as they
were, drove all the way to Buffalo and spent considerable time at the consulate in trying to
ensure that I get a temporary visa for Canada.

As I was standing in the queue and as I approached the counter, I heard the official ask the
lady ahead of me, “Where was this passport issued in India?” And the lady replied
“Bangalore”. Being from Bangalore, I suddenly perked up and asked the lady ahead of me
“Are you from Bangalore?” She turned back, and on seeing me, gave such a cold stare that
left me surprised. The two friends who were standing some distance away looked at me and
made a sign nodding their heads. Later, after finishing my work, when I went to them they
cautioned “Deepak! Don’t ever speak to an Indian woman in the U.S.!”

“But I would have done the same thing even if the person who was ahead of me was a man
from Bangalore!” I told them somewhat hurt. Yeah, it was a lesson. The trouble is I’ve had
several such lessons and I never seem to learn. Some strange spirit urges me along and I get
rebuffed repeatedly.

When I related this story to my sister, she remarked “But Deepak, Indian men are such
dorks!” That could be true. But how different are the white foreigners from Indian men (let
me not of course consider blacks!). A cousin of mine who had been to France on a study
programme of about a year or two returned with a clear knowledge of how keen they are to
lead you to bed. As a consequence she developed a strong dislike for the French. So we
have a tragic situation where Indian women dislike Indian men and White women have a
similar contempt. The suspicious question that must plague any Indian man is - are you
really comfortable if a black woman with all her heart truly would love you and respect you
for what you are? Or would you reject her love? Just the way a Hindu would refuse to
believe that two Muslim brothers (Arshad and Rahil) went out of their way to help an Indian
Hindu – this, despite having moved out of India because their petrol bunk in Bombay had
been torched?
xxx

p.s. When I related this story to a Hindu friend recently (May 2010), he asked "How do you
know it is really true that their petrol bunk was torched?"