Flying in Pilot8217;s slipstream

I picked up some rumours. Virender had been spotted at a shopping complex in new jeans; he had run off to Dehra Dun; he had bought a Bullet. Whatever he had actually done, Virender had emerged as a major talking-point.

Curiosity won finally and I too started logging in to the gossip net. Within a few days, I had a vague story-line. Virender had been inspired by a TV chat show. He had decided to study and with the money he made by selling his customers, had bought a second-hand motorbike. He had been told that unless you had a bike, no one gave lift8217; in college.

The bike did not get Virender into any college but he came to be seen more often in the neighbourhood. The tale stopped moving any further and having decided that it was my turn to put in a word or two of advice, I left several messages for him. But he did not come to me and even told the paanwallah that he was a trifle embarrassed.

Virender8217;s saga took a dramatic turn one evening when, amid derisive laughter, the paanwallah told me that he had bought a horse, and every evening Virender trotted past. Something was definitely wrong with my one-time milkman, my concerned self concluded. I decided to renew my efforts to locate him and talk to him.

My evening prowls were finally successful when I spotted Virender at the chaiwallah8217;s. Blushes came to him naturally as I cornered him and told him to come to my place the next morning. Without seeking informal clearance from any editor which one has to as a freelance writer I told Virender that I wished to write about him and needed to interview him. He was perplexed, even as the people in the stall guffawed. But I told the young lad quite sternly that he had to report at my place at eleven sharp.

Virender kept his word and gingerly stepped through my front door for the first time. 8220;What was wrong?8221; was my natural query. 8220;Rajesh Pilot is responsible.8221; This was clearly the beamer that Geoff Boycott so roundingly describes.

Both Pilot and Rajat Sharma had unwittingly upset Virender8217;s tranquil world-amid-buffaloes by narrating how Pilot had made the transformation to a successful politician. Virender was also a Gujjar and he became determined to follow in Pilot8217;s footsteps. But in his dream world, Virender had lurched from one blunder to another, the latest being the horse acquired for Rs 9,000.

Why did he buy the horse in the first place? 8220;I thought people would get impressed. Pilot said in the programme that when he bought his motorbike, people started respecting him. I thought that a horse would be even better.8221;Did the horse help? 8220;Initially yes, even girls in modern clothes would look at me. But then, how do I feed the horse? It eats Rs 200-worth of food every day.8221; So why did he not sell the horse? He had gone back to the market but there were simply no takers. He was saddled with a black horse.I told him to return to his milky days. His old customers would surely return. Virender got up, saying that he had to think about it.

It has been quite a while since then. Virender is not to be seen in the neighbourhood. The rumour mill has found new topics and characters. One can only hope that Virender realises his dream and, years later, one hears of another Gujjar who grew to eminence out of a modest past.