My Name is Khan!

Since the Delhi Metro is still 2 months away for Gurgaonites, coming out of Old Delhi Railway station premise, I am aware that I am doomed with the misfortune of relying on taxi services to reach home. And thanks to the condition of public transport or rather lack of it , its the only option available. The taxi-walas know it very well and the demand of Rs 1000 for a non AC 50 Km ride is fairly usual. Those who are awake about the cost effective ways of reaching Gurgaon need not listen to the audacious invitations from these taxi walas at all. A call centre cab from Karol bagh hanuman mandir is the cheapest or may be rather hire autorickshaw if you have luggage (and are fond of traveling on dedicated service) They charge half the amount you pay for the taxi.

Loaded with three big suitcases, I chose the second option. I muscle pass several taxi walas who look disappointed upon losing a leaky passenger as I nod in negation. I hear ‘This is the cheapest, sector 56 is so far don’t you understand …go find the alternative, good luck’ as I come down from the foot over bridge. Although they pretend to look least concerned and disgusted, they still linger around for some time until I give them a real hard sullied look.

I reach the autorickshaw stand and immediately get surrounded with several prospective service providers. Many of them pull back the moment I announce 400 as the maximum amount I’d pay. One of them agrees and this finally elates me. He takes my luggage and organizes them into the space at back. I occupy the my seat waering a victorious smile for having saved at least 500 bucks.

I notice the driver is wearing a cleanish sherwani and sports a thick beard sans any mustache. He looks very posh and different for an autorickshaw driver. I get an overwhelming desire to ask if he is really a driver, since, he seems to be lacking the rustic maneuvering skills that’s needed to cut through the Chandni chowk traffic.
What if the autorickshaw is loaded with RDX and he is a inflammable terrorist instead ? What if I am caught at one of the police check post ?
I get worried with every passing moment. Meanwhile, we cross across the Eid gah and move towards karol bagh.

‘This is where it all started’ He breaks the ice.
‘What?’
‘Eid gah , the communal riots of 1947.. it started here..’
‘Oh .. i didn’t knew that’

‘It started when a group of Hindus and Sikhs who had migrated from Pakistan, initiated a stream of hatred towards us. They could not stand how come we lived peacefully and with grace when they were butchered and humiliated at the other side’

Partition stories interests every one of us. I nod and listen to him further.

‘This place had dense Muslim population -mostly rich and employers, so it was quite safe here- The reason why we didn’t decide to migrate. We heard about the riots in other parts of the country but we were confident that nothing would happen to us’
‘We also helped the migrated families with food and medicines. We arranged for tents in the Eid gah ground’
‘All it needed was a rumor that some Hindu girl was abducted my local Muslims and forcefully married. Attacking us was lucrative too. Even the police wanted their share of money so they supported the mob’

Images of autorickshaw wala pull a knife saying ‘and then I decided to take revenge and now you are my victim #…’ crosses my mind for couple of seconds and then I listen further.

‘We shifted to Meerut to my brother’s place until it subsided. When I came back, I learnt my house was occupied already. A court case followed. I was later compensated. 90 Lacs.. Imagine.. 90 lacs at that time. It means at least 200 crore of today.
‘Khan saab .. now this is too much .. if you are that rich, why are you driving an autorickshaw’

Images of autorickshaw wala pull a semi automatic gun ‘I donated all the money to Jehad…’ crosses my mind until he replies

‘Thanks to my wife. We didn’t had child. She prayed to Haji Ali.. Take all our money and bless us with son
‘Haji Ali obliged but within a year I lost heavily in my business and then I never recovered’

He goes on with his how-he-lost-his-money story for 30 more minutes non stop , until I realize we are nearing the Gurgaon Toll plaza.
‘Khan saab , turn left after the toll gate’
‘Ok sure’

After a silence he again speaks up

‘Do you know, not every khan in India is a real khan. The khans are the descendents of 13 original Khans who had come from Iran and settled in India. Although every Muslim is loosely addressed as Khan saab these days’

‘So how do I recognize, if he is for real?’. I ask the first genuine question of the entire journey.

‘Ask them which zahi they belong to .., Zahi corresponds to the bloodline of 13 original Khans. If they don’t know their zahi , they are not pure.

‘Pure as in No contamination, original blood?’
‘Yes ..’

‘But you mentioned they came in group of 13, I assume they were unmarried. So the offspring’s have some Hindu blood from the mother. Isn’t it so ? How come they are pure in that case?

The autorickshaw pulls at my apartment.

‘See…. the bloodline is driven by males…’

I stop him immediately ‘Yes , but biologically speaking , its also from females ? right ?

‘Yes .. but females are like Fertile land. Do you ever mention the mango fruit as mango-and-land fruit?’

This out of place metaphor stumped me. I am speechless as I pay him the money. I have met a superior pedigree, I realize. Perhaps, one such pure Khan.




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