Phulwaria is a small diversion from Mirganj, en route Gopalganj from Patna. With no major claim to fame, the place will sure go down history lane as the birthplace of the by now globally famous Laloo Prasad Yadav. The newly constructed cemented road and railway track apart from a make-do airstrip bear testimony to the over-enthusiastic/ optimistic devotion of the man to his native place; the life-size statue of Marachia Devi at the crossroad laced with a stone tablet below that reads “The great mother figure who gave birth to a son like Laloo”.
The story goes that when Laloo was appointed Chief Minister, his mother could not fathom what it meant and she enquired whether or not he had at least become ‘daroga’ (which is what she had always wanted him to be). In response, Laloo had only replied ‘‘Hathua Maharaj le badka Raja bangaynee.’’ - I have become a bigger Raja than Hathua Maharaj, the erstwhile zamindar of Hathua estate.
A few miles down the highway, one hits a famous religious Devi temple at Thaway. Folklore has it that a firm devotee of Devi, Rahasu had a pet tiger with whose support he would beat grass using a wagon wheel to throw out one of the finest quality rice. Owing to this, his popularity had spread far & wide almost contesting that of the Hathua Maharaj. Overcome with jealousy, the Maharaj had wanted Rahasu to prove the existence of the Devi he so worshipped and revered. In spite of being warned of widespread destructive consequences, the Maharaj had stood to his point and Rahasu had to make Devi come into herself – the entire estate was destroyed and the family was history.
Local folklore may have its share of sugar & spice added and multiplied over a period of time but the fact remains that the egoistic & dictatorial Hathua Maharaj had not actually become history, he had only disintegrated into smaller parts over the stretch of his erstwhile estate – the current districts of Saran, Siwan & Gopalganj in Bihar bordering the state of Uttar Pradesh. This is about my experiences with his attitudinal stockist scions.
Chapra, the headquarter town of the district of Saran has had many a reference in Bollywood with the notorious ‘Chapri’ being the sidekick of the main villain. Mr. Banarasiya and son Shamit seemed to fit a similar role to the ‘T’. Having saved tones of money flirting with the loopholed regulations of gutkha trade, Mr. Banarasiya had risen from the office of a government servant to become one of the wealthiest businessmen in his town, finally to play foul & dupe the very gutkha company that had resulted in his evolution (after all, man only evolves from lesser states). However, the monies made needed to be rotated for conversion into white and the very first agency taken up – “Super Thanda Tail” seemed a perfect fit. Not to be left out, Shamit too joined his father only to be welcomed into a business where stocks seemed to go through the roof, market credit multiplied exponentially and consumer offtakes were inversely proportional to investments made.
Frustrated with burning hands at their first FMCG venture, the father-son approached a predecessor of yours truly with a proposal to set up their agency business – in reality, the huge piles of money shoved up pillow covers and mattresses needed conversion at the earliest. Given a second FMCG boon, efforts were put in to make hay while the sun shone and business began to grow only until such time things got into auto-mode. Having continued a few months into my tenure, complacency soon set in and business took the back seat.
With open top buttons of his shirt revealing the scanty specs of white hair on his bare chest, Mr. Banarasiya would closely follow the movements of the female computer operator at the agency. Like father, like son – Shamit betrothed a woman of his liking and justifiably so only until it was discovered the same was without divorcing his first wife; thereafter to be located at different loci on a circle with radius 50 km and epicenter as Chapra, trying to save his rear end from police officials. Not satisfied with the explanations given by the father, the now ex-daughter-in-law also put the father-in-law on the run – his addition to the duo team adding another 50 km to the radius.
Meanwhile, company cheques bounced, debtors got a complete free hand and cell-phone calls were routed via telecom towers disjoint & disconnected over distances only to register missed calls, which were never reverted to.
Not too far away, M/s Sadhe Ram Kunwarlal reigned supreme in his kingdom of Siwan, thanks to the protection accorded by the now behind bars local don & state MLA Rahabuddin. With appx 15 most prominent FMCG companies under his distribution fold, none had a saleman operating in the market. Among the top agency houses of the town/ district, Sadhebabu had clearly defined terms of service with all market intermediaries – all retailers/ wholesalers had to make a beeline for their requirements to his godown and had to pay up dues on time to get the next lot of supplies. Sadhebabu was a simple man and believed in keeping it that way – “My way or the highway” was his simple philosophy in life. Sales lingo had it that Sadhebabu had been twice targeted with bullets & bombs, unfortunately on both occasions, men accompanying him had borne the brunt of the mishap and the actual target had gone scot-free – only if those Kasab’s were better trained by the Mujahedeen.
The adjoining district of Goplaganj had a subtler version of the story to say. Rinku Singh came across as a simple, straight forward person with his neatly buttoned shirt touching the loose ends of his trouser loops, unkempt hair and faintly addressed beard. Belonging to the town of Gorakhpur in UP, Rinkuji maintained a low profile in his make-shift residence of Tittra in Bihar. Having inherited a huge fortune from his maternal uncle, Rinku was the Robinhood of Tittra – sorting out the financial woes of many and absolving a number of their worries – a market visit with the philanthropist himself would have retailers / wholesalers giving a standing welcome with both hands joined in a humble & compassionate ‘namaste’ and apparently, his godown-keeper had over the years of his service with Rinkuji managed to eke out enough so as to own a car which was rented out for marriage parties / special occasion. The hidden agenda of political aspirations in the face of charity were evident from the company of kurta-clad gentlemen that Rinkuji maintained during evening sittings.
As Rinkuji went about clearing his way for a future political career that would at some point of time fund his current charity, the only person shitting bricks in his pants was the bank manager of State Bank of India, Tittra branch since his job was at stake at all such times when Rinkuji’s pocket was free-flowing with charity – for the 4 months of the year during the crop sowing season, Rinkuji would distribute varied crop seeds at a no-profit arrangement among farmers of the district to maintain his ‘messiah’ image; it was on such occasions that the bank overdraft facility was more than doubly exhausted, creditors cheques were not entered into the ‘incoming’ register of the bank for months to avoid scrutiny and calls from the SBI head office went unanswered – considerably so, Mr. Rinku Singh’s firm was the prime-most customer of Tittra branch with 50% plus contribution to the bank’s business and the manager personally consulting Rinkuji before honouring every single cheque.
Fortunately, Rahasu was on his way. Mr. Banarasiya & Shamit were out of the FMCG business soon, the father-son duo managed to fleece their way through by buttering hands of the concerned officials and commenced a low headache / high eye-candy telecom business which somehow turned out to be a profitable venture. They were replaced by a much more deserving set of brothers, enthusiastic & enterprising to make a name for themselves. Sadhebabu’s strong conviction that every company which left him had to return to his agency suffered a terrible jolt. Considering Rinkuji’s Robinhood figure, a few strict warnings ensured that his bank manager did not have to change his set of briefs at regular intervals (after all ‘andar ki baat’ also has its pressure-handling limitations).
Self-image, having its origin in culture & environmental background combined with individual aspirations and public expectations can lead to a set of beliefs that become convictions over a period of time if left unchallenged. But, challenges always help people grow; then again, being the challenge is a challenge in itself. Am I getting too challenging now? You bet!