THIS IS HOW THE MADHESIS IN SIKKIM ARE TREATED
Don't call me bhaiya, I'm Nepali


MAHABIR PAUDYAL The other day when I was in a jam-packed public bus going to Bhaktapur, there were few madhesi people standing in the gangway. People were
being crammed into this small vessel from every stop and they were suffocating. Amidst this, I heard one of the middle-aged women, who was standing in the gangway herself, telling a madhsi man “oe bhaiya aliuta sarana (brother, will you move over a little?) in a loud discourteous tone. It looked like she was acting out the disgust function. She seemed to have this feeling of revulsion which those who have developed more refined taste and bodily controls can experience when they encounter the habits of common people. To her insolent request, he responded in Hindi accented Nepali with an unexpected display of rage. “Who do you call bhaiya, huh?” he retorted “Mind your language. Who do you think you are talking to? Do you think I am an Indian? I am as good Nepali as you. May be I am more Nepali than you are.” I could not get the full view of him for he was almost enveloped in the crowd upfront. But from what I saw of him I can gather that he was a gentleman. He had positioned two pens in the front pocket of his shirt and was possibly returning from work. The woman was no less. She asked if she was not to call him bhaiya was she to call him dhoti, a madisya (more derogatory names than bhaiya). This escalated the dispute. People at the back started making fun of the madhesi gentleman by mocking the woman’s situation. “You are provoking such person whose species is president and vice president of the country. Watch your words otherwise president and vice president won’t spare you, madam.” The madhesi man did not give in. He kept seeking explanation from her. The woman then threatened to drag him and throw him out of the bus window if he did not keep quiet. The dispute settled when some well-meaning college boys interceded on behalf of the madhesi gentleman. On the surface there is nothing very serious about this incident. The madhesi gentleman was overreacting. He could have avoided the squabble if he had chosen to acquiesce. The woman had not lashed any expletives at him, neither had she used any uncommon appellation. She had only called him bhaiya which is, in fact, a compliment. It means a brother a comrade, a common parlance of non-terai people to refer to man from the terai region. Besides, he should be used to being called bhaiya in Kathmandu for there are people here who still believe that the land beyond Thankot is India and every dark skinned man from there is Indian. In a place where more degrading names than bhaiya like madisya and dhoti are used, bhaiya should have made him happy. Two years ago, he probably would have reacted differently. But he is the representative noble product of the Terai Movement which has made him more aware and more bolder. Perhaps this is the only best thing that this movement has done to the people of terai. He has started to reassert his identity. It is the first time I heard a madhesi man reacting like this in Kathmandu. For me there is a great deal of identity and nationalism issues embedded in his reaction “am I Indian?” His is a very straightforward and unequivocal nationalism. A bhaiya for him is he who despite receiving benefits from Nepali state feels himself closer to India in terms of language, intention and attitude. A real bhaiya tolerates being called so because deep down he feels comfortable being non-Nepali. There are some prevalent notions about madhesis in the psyche of the people of hill origin; they are too clever. Even a dead madhesi can con a living Nepali. He is a crowd, noise and filth loving man and so on. This notion is, ironically, governed by class status. No madhesi man in Kathmandu will ever have to confront insults if he is rich. A madhesi with sound business and economic orientation is no more a bhaiya—he becomes a seth (rich man), a master, a huzoor (lord).Another reason for the growing distrust between a madhesi and a pahadi in recent times is the madhesi leaders themselves. They are demonizing terai people and (mis) representing them to be closer to India. Driven by their selfishness they threaten to fragment and secede Terai when they do not get shares in the government and launch movements. Therefore, the general impression of the madhesi leaders, and because of them the Madesh People, is that they want a part of or the whole of terai to be annexed into India. But this madhesi man is an example of counter reality of the terai sentiments; the madhesi people are loyal integrationist and they wish to remain Nepali. After this incident I have started to view, in new light, the standing of every madhesi vendor who is seen in the Kathmandu streets hawking for customers, announcing in Hindi accented Nepali kera, seu, angur ( banana, apple, grapes) or khali sisi purana kagaj (empty bottles, and old papers). I see him as a conscious political being in which the flame of asserting identity has been ignited no matter how depravedly his leader acts. But when in the vegetable markets I see men and women haggling over the price calling him bhaiya and madisya and when he acquiesces in, consciously or unconsciously, without uttering anything of “ Don’t call me bhaiya, I’m Nepali,” or when some wayward Kathmandu youths take apples and grapes from the fruit vendor’s basket without paying and run away threatening him instead and the police standing nearby pretend not to have seen them, I realize that it will beg some time for my thesis to take root.mbpoudyal@yahoo.com