Darbhanga. Started dreaming big. My little home. The people around. And then the tower chowk, Katki bazaar. Salafia Jr School. Maths haunting. Difficult days, happiness in small celebrations, Eid, Diwali crackers, Ramazan Sehris, Mehfil-e-Milad. Darbhanga Glass House……………
With Abbu on bicycle. In the front basket of cycle. Rahman Phupha’s DMCH quarter. Humor, Laugh and Alalpatti chowk. Medical shops, Orange smells, this was the night crossing Naka no5. Ahmad’s stationaries and small toy car, I dumped in the drain. I was 5 years old.
Dev Anand. I liked; and the black and white films. The charming actors, and my innocent fantasies. Tipu, Kamini, Meenu and Sana. My old neighboring friends. Without the differences of rich and poor, tiny steps, giant leaps, in friendship, smile and childish deeds.
Ammi’s school. Sarai Sattar Khan and the garden behind pond. The non stop “Papa Kehte Hain …” song. Bharat ek khoj, sigma, ek do teen chaar, chaaro mil gaye to ho gaye chamatkar. Ramayana serial. Kausar Uncle’s Karamganj home. Late night DD1 movies. Out with friends and Ammi’s punishments.
Kulfi falooda at tower chowk. Eid dress and the new rubber smell of Eid chappals. Millat college ground for Eid Namaz. Going with Abbu to Darbhanga Shop. Dusty afternoons. Sweat, heat and Dust. Azad hotel’s tea and Kababs. Hameed Uncle color shop. Jaiswal’s TV shop. Gudri bazaar and traffic jams.
Sunday morning rangoli, Haafi sb’s door’s knock. 1 hour of Quraan’s Tilawat. Strict discipline and punishments. Relaxing in after the Haafi sb’s session. Crow’s cracking, Sunday 11 AM. Waiting for light to come. Tarramtoo, and Sunday TV programmes. Regional language movies, although I do not understand. Aangan, Amrood ka per. Faiz bhaijaan, people from Asraha. Amir Khan’s movie Dil.
Auntie’s house in Benta. Totally different environment. Naani jaan’s nematkhana. Naani jaan ki baatein, unka gussa, and Khala jaan ki English grammar. Captain bhaijaan’s drawings, Bruice Lee’s poster and the TV. Rubi appiajan, homely environment. Fight with Milton, fight with appi, my little fantasies.
Paper aeroplane, boat and continuous rain. Dropping water, aangan’s handpump. Playing in water and Ammi’s punishments. The day ends, in night.
Going village Jhagarua on bus. My T-shirt logo 699. Afraid of abbu getting lost outside the bus. The smile of bus driver at my innocence. Honking horn with bare electricity wires. Difficulties on the way.
Trying to hide inside bench, to avoid the homework copy. Maths punishment. Stupid teachers. Salfia Junior School was the worst. Moved to Indira Memorial Academy. Charismatic Jeelani sb. Energised, youthful and refreshing. Morninig PT, disciplined, cruel teachers. Home at 2:00PM. Shanti serial at 2:20, Hatimtai, and Mandira’s Surabhi. Eveninig. Homework and day off.
I started gaining recognition. Class 4th and I was a good painter, cartoonist. Getting attention. Class 6th was in N B Zila School. New friends, Jamaluddin and his badminton racket. My Hero Jet cycle. Going to Raj with Prince, Iqbal and Asad. Shahid Jamal, Qaiser and old friends. Raj comics and Ram-Rahim comic sequels. Magnet stickers, Karamganj, and Paper Samrat. Comics and Science. Friends, aloo bara maidan, Bait ul Ashraf. I wanted to be a doctor.
My appendix operation. Dalton was 5. Serious about me. Helping me in his tiny ways. Nurses, doctors and DMCH general ward. Thirsty for last three days. Excited to be operated. I was not worried, rather happy. I demanded comics and Abbu do not resisted, instead he got bal-hans. The book I didn’t liked so much.
Adil and Tanqueed. My old friends. They were sharper than me. Inferiority complex, but I was unique in my own way. My bag was stolen. My principal Mr. Yad Mohammad. Barf wale, Shaukat and Shadab, the school’s bad boys. Barkatullah, and Nabi. The school was, as it was. My friends copied me and were the topper. I felt crying, my Ammi consoled me. So what if I am not topper today, I will one day outshine.
AMU dreams. Gentle students. Wanted to be like an Alig. Year 1998. I was like a celebrity with 70% in matric. Tried AMU, but didn’t succeeded. Made friends from Kashmir, Sopore, Zubair and Firdos. Muslim Musafirkhana and troubling food. Naaz bhai and Aligarh’s Lassi with Limca. A movie “Dushman”, Abbu allowed us to watch. Back to home again. Was involved in crockery business. In C M Sc college. I liked the professors. KK Jha inspired me, and I wanted to be like him. Zaki uncle was the new face, and he asked me Newton’s Laws one day. I failed to answer as he expected a prompt reply. I practiced again but he didn’t asked twice.
I was not selected in AMU.
Khurram is my cousin brother and I remember the family when they visited Darbhanga once. And again in Pokhraira. So next year I was in Jamia Nagar. Noor Nagar Extn. Tried my luck at Jamia and I was selected. New culture. The innocence was challenged. I developed resistance. But in the course of time became immune to the Delhi culture.
Bihari. I felt insulted. With the tone they used to speak. Contempt. The challenge made me aggressive and I was brought to perfection. I challenged these poultry farm breed of generation. Class 11th and I was already a star. I studied hard. Very Hard. Memorized the NCERT books. A to Z. I was the topper in final and won the challenge.
I felt the power of hard work.
With the farewell of seniors. I saw people dancing. Dancing with the tunes of Kaho na pyar hai, ek pal ka jeena. I never saw real people dancing. This was strange, very new to me. I felt Islam was challenged by these people. They deserved nothing. Why don’t they understand something that Quran tell us to do? Why they are so much hacked with materialism?
SIO. And SIO hostel. I became the member of Students Islamic Organisation. The concepts of Maulana Maududi were what made a revolution within me. I see daily inert people. Inert. Not ready to listen. Stupid, materialistic, in their own way. Why don’t they like to innovate. Why are not they so creative. Can I change the world?
“New friends, new rivals. New competition. Being a Bihari is not an easy job.”
Abu Bakar, Danish, Neyazi, and SIO idiots. Mess management, choked toilets, evening tea, bunking classes. I was not behaving like a topper. I became arrogant, proud. I was again a mediocre with 65%.
Medical entrances, and then engineering. I had no idea, but was selected in E&C branch. Engineering.
Back again, Year 1999. While sitting upfront the table. Room number 62, saifi hostel, M M Hall Aligarh. Shakeel bhai was my new role model. So I learned a lot in three months time. Adil was the only helping friend there. I made some good friends. Ahmar and Khurram. Qamar entered late to the stge.
I never paid attention to the class notes as the Faculty of Engineering was full of stupid teachers. Out of all I liked only Rafat sir and Tariq beg sir. I respect other only since they are elder to me, otherwise they don’t deserve to be called teachers. Hope someday they will understand the value of good teaching quality.
I focused on my coaching institute. I mastered physics somewhat, and the inspiration from K K Jha and Shakeel bhai made me to dive in the business of education. I felt satisfied teaching physics and solving numerical.