During my graduation, I used to do a few part-time jobs to support my expenses and joined a full-time job as an Executive Trainee in a reputed organization immediately after graduation. I was all of 19 and posted in Patna for my first assignment.

Everything was very different. And new. A colleague offered to share his apartment with me on the condition that he was getting married in a few months and within that period, I’d find more permanent arrangements for myself. We used to eat out but decided that since we used to have tea and stuff at home, we should have a maid do the minimal cleaning up of the house and kitchen. I accosted the maid working next door and asked her to help out but she refused. In the other house, she used to do a lot of work like BJP (Bartan Jhadu Pochha), washing the clothes, dusting and so on for the entire family and I offered to pay the same amount for mere Jhadu and Bartan for two bachelors with very small requirements but she refused. I even offered to pay more but she was unmoved. I was a little upset and thought, maybe, something in my appearance or manners was off-putting.

A few days later, there was a knock on the door and I found the same maid standing there with bowed head. Before I could figure out anything, she was touching my feet and apologizing profusely for having refused to work in our place. I was thrilled and asked her how much would be the damages and she said whatever I pleased and she had made a huge mistake and she was abjectly sorry, she had committed an unpardonable sin by refusing earlier and on and on …

Turned out, she had refused to work at our house because my flat-mate was Christian. However, one day, when the milkman came, I was jolted awake and, in my hurry, had opened the door for the milk without putting on a shirt; the maid had seen my janeu (sacred thread) and was petrified at having committed the “sin” of refusing a Brahmin. I found that caste and religion were all around me. For example, “Ashok kaun, A..sh..ok, oh, achha woh bhumihar ka ghar uss tarah hai,” and so on. One of those days was the last time I wore the sacred thread.

Shortly before my flat-mate got married, I started looking around for alternative accommodation. There were many houses, flats and even shanties to let but, intriguingly, there was none for me, for love or for money. Finally, after a long and arduous search, a deal was finalised with one person and I paid the advance. A day before moving in, I went there with a sweeper and paraphernalia to give the house a clean-up. During the process, the landlord, staying in the same building, materialised and we got chatting. Things were going well when suddenly he asked, “Aur, aapke family kab aayenge?” [So, when will your family be joining you?] I said, “Sampoorna family toh aapke saamne hai.” [The entire family is in front of you.] He was aghast and started sputtering incoherently. He said, “Sorry, ghar main jawan betiyan hain, makaan toh nahi de sakte hain aapko.” [Sorry, there’re adolescent girls here, can’t rent to you.] While all those earlier rebuffs now fell into place, I had a serious problem – no accommodation and the flat-mate getting married soon. I pleaded and cajoled; I offered to increase the rent substantially; I offered to show him the character certificate issued by my college while passing out – all to no avail. I had to check into a hotel for a few days at prohibitive tariffs until a local guy joined as another Executive Trainee. Since he was local, we found decent digs and checked in.

This guy was from St Stephen’s College and I was from Hindu. We decided to bury our famous college rivalries and, to celebrate, decided to see a movie. We couldn’t find a rickshaw to take us so we “borrowed” two rickshaws from a nearby rickshaw stand and merrily pedalled away to the movie hall. After the movie, when we were returning, two different guys hailed our rickshaws. Since they were going our way, we took them on board and pedalled back. On the way back, we were chatting in English on the finer points of the movie. These two “passengers” were first intrigued that we were talking in English, then curious, then inquisitive and finally aghast when they realized that we were actually educated and were out on a joy ride. They got down post-haste with profuse apologies.

The new flat-mate was applying for all kinds of things, GRE, GMAT, IIMs, XLRI, and so on. Being bone-lazy and very under-confident, I half-apologetically requested him to fill in a few forms for me, just on the off-chance. Well, I made it to an IIM, he didn’t. Later, he took his revenge. He not only made it to the IAS but was amongst the top five or so and was allotted his home cadre, Bihar and rose to be its Chief Secretary. When we left our first job almost simultaneously and went our separate ways, he owed me 23 rupees and 50 paise. Every time we get together, I gently remind him but he persistently refuses to pay the money back.

During my transition from Bihar to Bangalore, I met one of my college teachers who was himself from Bihar and recounted to him some of my adventures there. He smiled and said, “Well, Bihar is not a state; it’s a state of mind.”