27 January 2015


Posted by Vinoth Subramanian | Tuesday, January 27, 2015 Categories: , ,

She departed from her home with her daughter to deposit money in the bank. Unexpectedly, in fact, unfortunately, she was noticed by transgender on the way. They stopped them and started demanding money. It can’t be called begging for it was not a request. She was terribly scared and stood on the road. Her daughter also stood aside.

“Mami, give money for five people to eat Biriyani.” The transgender demanded casually.
“No!” would have been the immediate reaction of the lady but the demand should have menaced them staggeringly. It was not the time to argue; she would have thought to give for she had money in her bag. She hesitated, scooped out a hundred rupee note from the bag and reluctantly offered them. The jeune fille was quietly witnessing her mother’s ability of handling that scary moment. Hundred rupees! To a stranger! To a transgender! Was really a test of the throb of the heart! But she didn’t have any other option at that time. She moved a little with her daughter; thinking that her generosity had come to an end.
“Mami! We can buy only two biriyanis by this hundred rupee note. We are totally five! So give us more!” the voice jolted them both. I think this is the right time to introduce her. Her name is Rekha, Rekha Ramesh the mother of Megha Ramesh. The daughter, who was standing with her, was obviously Megha.
After receiving hundred rupees they ask more! This, for us, is atrocious! Mrs.  Rekha couldn’t believe the happenings at that time. It was horrible for her. But Megha, the address of awesomeness was standing and anxiously waiting for her mother’s reaction towards this complex situation.


It was the office of Veppampattu revenue inspector located in Chevvapet. After getting the signature in the form for OBC certificate from our village administrative officer (VAO,) we reached the revenue inspector’s office to get the signature and attestation in the same form. It was a Friday 23 January 2015 and the time was 11 A.M.
One lady came, everyone rose and wished.
“Wait patiently, only four people are here, I will ask and solve your problems.” She said and unlocked the door. The door was ajar. She intruded along with her assistant. We stood in the queue.
My father and I stood in the entrance; other stood inside. She asked everyone to stand outside. The assistant switched on the fan but she refused for it was cold to her. He blamed mosquitoes. At one point of time she also felt the bite of the mosquito and approved the fan to be switched on. People were coming and going inside. They seemed to be known either to the assistant or to the lady (RI.)
One person went and yelled,
“Ma’am I applied the community certificate a month ago but I haven’t got yet.”
I was shocked and asked my father.
“What is this daddy? Then when will we get if we apply now!”
“It will not take one month. I would have sanctioned already!” she replied the man. After a few minutes, she took the file and pointed out the mistake he committed while filling.
“See that is why it is blocked! Otherwise you would have got it already!” she said and sent the man.
She started conversing with her workers.
“25th is voters day. People will be coming to get their identity cards. You come with the camera and take photos. I have to mail it to the collector.” Ten minutes passed.
“Photos must be clear.” Fifteen minutes past.
“Come with cameras and take photos.” Twenty minutes passed.
“Photos are the proof.” Twenty five.
“Don’t forget to be present. I will be there with people for photos.” Thirty now.
“25, Sunday, voters day and photos.” Thirty five gone. They said okay and gone.
I looked at my father and calmly simpered. Assistant came and asked us.
“OBC certificate sir. Signature.” My father replied. He went inside. We remained standing in the door step.
Some people went inside. The assistant had called them. They started talking and collecting phone numbers. One of them asked the other men and not the lady,
“What on earth you were doing without having their phone numbers?” (Phone number vangama ennap----?)
“Sir! What are you talking here?” it was the vehement reaction of the woman. Another person entered.
“I got the signature from the VAO. So you also do the favor ma’am.” The man said and put the file on the table.
“Put a signature ma’am. Our well-wisher.” The assistant said.
“Do you have home in the land?” she asked after perusing the papers.
“No ma’am! Only land!” the person replied.
“Then why did you write home here?” she asked.
“You do something ma’am. Again I should come and go.”
“I am ready sir! But I will accountable for this! The higher officials will probe me if anything went wrong. Just strike the words and then come I will do the favour.”
“Any other possibility ma’am?” the assistant asked her for that person was close to him.
“I can sign but we will be in trouble later.”
An old woman was standing with us in the entrance nearly an hour like us. She came before us. Finally she was called inside. It looked like land dispute.
“Where is your brother’s signature?” the RI asked.
“The problem is with him amma. He cheated me and wrote all the property on his name.”
“What I can I do for your family problem?” she asked. Her question was logical.
“We will write it to the court. You deal it from there. Okay?”
“Okay mma you know all the procedures. I should have been educated ma. See now I am suffering. He should be paid for his treachery. God will give him wage. (Antha deivamthan coolie kudukkanum)
“Stop talking ma! On Friday! (Velli kizhama athuvuma!)” That revenue inspector rebuked.
“Okay ma I am not talking anything. I am not talking anything.” She replied.
“Okay ma you may go now, we will send it to court, then, you deal the problem.” She said and sent the lady.
“Oh he’s blind?” she looked at us and received the form.
“Where is the photo copy of this community certificate?” she asked my father. He searched and it was missing. Fortunately we had originals. My father left me in the room and went to take photo copy.
“Here it is ma’am.” He came within ten minutes and submitted it.
“Why did you take him with you?” she asked.
“We need to go to Thiruvallore for his medical certificate ma’am. So he’s needed for that.”
“Whose signature is that? Thumb impression?”
“That is his ma’am.” My father answered.
“Won’t he sign? Then how he studies?” she asked.
A minute ago, she asked him why he took me. Now she is asking this. She would have asked my father to take me if I was not there since it wasn’t my sign just thumb impression.
“Through Braille system ma’am.” My father concluded.
“Why do you need OBC certificate now?”
“For job ma’am.” He replied. She signed and gave it to my father finally.
“How much should we give for this?”
I was startled by my father’s question. I couldn’t fathom why he was greasing her palm.
“GIVE (KUDUNGA)” was her instant verbal reaction.
I went infernally incredulous; the word “Give” was echoing inside my ears.
My father held my hand and moved from the place.
“Thank you ma’am.” He said while going out. She said okay. But I said nothing.
We reached our bike. I couldn’t control myself. He already started cursing her.
“How much she got?” I asked.
“She would have got anything if we had given! You heard the word ‘GIVE’ right?”
“But why did you ask her ‘how much should we give’?”
“What to do then? The man who went before her gave five-hundred rupees! And she kept it in her purse. The assistant started staring at her while she was signing for us.” He replied and kicked the bike to start. I climbed and sat.
“How much you gave her finally?”
He replied and continued riding. I was reminded of Rekha aunty and Megha at that time.


Hundred rupees!

Rekha aunty pulled out another hundred rupee note and catered the transgender; knowing very well that she did not have any other option. They walked further. She had been stammering throughout the commute. What else she could have done at that time? Of course! Transgender are disrespected in the society. But it doesn’t mean that they have to pester the poor canaille. Eventually her generosity exceeds up to two-hundred rupees. It was her husband’s effort! It was his energy! Each and every rupee is the result of his work. How can she forgive if it is directly robbed in the name of begging?

The velocity of the bike was little high at that time.
“It’s already 12:50 now. We have to reach the Thaluka office as soon as possible otherwise they will go for their lunch break and everything will be obliterated.” My father said while accelerating.
“How can they shamefully open their mouth and ask money like this? Won’t they feel guilty? Won’t they feel ashamed? Moreover ladies are generally superior in morality. They worship a lot. They have the fear over the crimes. But how is this possible daddy?”
“Who knows; that is what happened now. She kept the other man’s five-hundred with her and offered our hundred to the assistant. Problem solved. He’s happy. She is happy. And that’s it!” he replied.
“She must be earning more than thirty thousand. Isn’t she?” I asked.
“She must be earning forty thousand.” He replied.
“Bad words are restricted inside! Curses are prohibited on Fridays! But bribery alone is accepted.” I said.
He didn’t say anything rather snickered.
I felt like saying many things but controlled myself and let my thoughts travelling in my mind itself.
Transgender beg because the source of income is questionable, they are chased from the home and desecrated by the society. Old people beg because they are uninhabited by their own progenies. Visually and physically challenged people beg because they become lazy and foolishly believe that begging is their job. It doesn’t mean I support them. But these people? After getting a permanent job, after earning many lakhs per year, beg like a starving man. Why? At least women who are working for hundreds and five-hundreds are loyal to their jobs!
I couldn’t control my mouth and became apoplectic.
“If these kinds of women’s’ ultimate aim is that hundred and five-hundred rupees,” I said to my father, “Why do they come to this public service jobs instead go as -?”
My father slowed down the bike and replied,
“She isn’t even fit for that!” raised the accelerator again.


Post a Comment

  • RSS
  • Delicious
  • Digg
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Linkedin
  • Youtube