It had been a year since I was in Patna last, taking advantage of the long weekend around Gandhi Jayanti I was once again there.
This visit, I was pleasantly surprised to see smooth and widened roads almost everywhere in the city. They are laying a drainage network for some of the local streets too – Patna was, at last, trying to get out of its rusticity. Electricity was not an issue and there existed this general buzz of activity and action around everywhere.
However the traffic was a pain, and the constant honking was extremely irritating besides being harsh to the ear. Cycle rickshaws on the thoroughfares don’t make a large city. Doubt if these rickshaws are going to go off the arterial roads in the near future, with assembly elections just a year away.
Travel in the city using public transport is relatively costly – Rs 60 for some 8 to 9 km and that too traveling in cycle rickshaws, and shared autorickshaws. The local administration should introduce auto-rickshaw taxis, and retool able cycle rickshaw drivers to drive shared auto-rickshaws and get the cycle rickshaws off the important roads.
The irrepressible people of Bihar are known by different names in the rest of the country. Harry to Hariya is often used, depending on one’s degree of separation from rusticity. They have always been considered unique in their own way. No wonder Bihar is often called the States that is United States of Bihar – a world apart.
After all the Bihari is a different species – extremely intelligent, hardworking (mainly if you have migrated out of Bihar), rustic, diffident, religious with strong identities about caste, region, and trade. A Bihari’s penchant to try and relate to another person basis his caste is unbeatable. During this visit, I was reminded of a dialogue I would often have with co-travelers during my train trips to Patna during school and university days. It used to be fun once I got a hang of it – people trying to know my caste, it would go like this….
‘Kya naam hai aapka? (What is your name?)’
Manavendra.
The first name doesn’t give away my caste, hence the following question would be asked.
‘Par naam kya hai aapka? (But what is your name?)’
One is expected to give his complete name, that is, with the family name. Once I got wiser I would once again say ‘ Manavendra’ therefore the next question would follow.
Pitaji ka naam kya hai? (What is your father’s name?)’
Shri J S Prasad
So there you are, the surname has been conveyed. In these times of changing/adopting family names the next question was to be surer about one’s inference.
Kahan ghar hua aapka? (Where is home for you? This actually meant which part of the state your ancestral home is in?)’
I would say ‘ Patna’ if I wanted to be cheeky else would say Chapra as the answer to the intended question.
Every region of the state has a predominance of one or two castes; for example Chapra is supposed to have a large number of Rajputs, Yadavs and Kayasthas. Patna being a large city, the dominance doesn’t truly hold though Kayasthas are the numerically dominant community in the city. The caste along with the region of your ancestral home nearly confirms your caste but yet you will be asked.
To aap log kayastha hain? (So, you are from the Kayastha community)’
Incidentally in Bihar, the caste name or the family name is called ‘title’ and you realise how important that surname is.
Bihar inspite its eccentricities has been central to the idea of India for all its history save some 700 – 800 years in the last millennium and it is these people that are once again going to enable India to occupy its rightful place in the comity of nations.