Almost 35 years in my life I lived in a basti, called Indiranagar. In this place, people settled from different parts of the country like Telangana, Andhra Pradesh, and Maharashtra. Hindus, Muslims, and Christians resided next to each other. People from all castes and professions were living together. Uppal industrial area is very close by, so many workers were representing different trades and skills. Majority of them are from poor or lower-middle class. The residential plots were mostly 100 to 150 square yards. Many people here were tenants of small houses.
In a basti, everyone is a king, queen, prince or princess. Their pride is always high. In general people live in houses, in the basti’s people preferred to live more on the streets. The streets are never dull. For children, the roads were the playground. Have seen children evolving into leaders on the streets. Street corners are the favourite places for youth to hang over and discuss till late-night. For youth, it is a place for gossip, networking, and socialization. They could discuss politics, sports and also about a girl that they are interested in. For antisocial elements, it is a place to show their strength and making mischief. People whistle for no reason to get the attention of everyone. People take sides in no time by involving in any fight between the people and groups. Although everyone has fought one time or the other, their efforts to calm down tensions and explanations to resolve the conflict by pacifying the warring groups reminds me that they are no less than messiahs and saints.
In the past, about 20 years back, people were found even sleeping, cooking and their children shitting on the street. There is not a single day when there is no fight among some residents. Often police come to pacify the fighting people or sometimes in search of catching someone who has done something wrong and absconding. Any incident in the basti would draw everyone’s attention. The quarrel between husband and wife is also an issue of public interest. For me seeing people fighting was very common. The families around were interested in fighting both verbally and physically and at the slightest of provocation. We could get the intensity of verbal fighting and expect that turn into physical. Would come out of the house to watch the fight and see who wins. Sometimes a couple fights with another couple, but suddenly one couple starts fighting among themselves leaving the other couple and get inside. I have heard all kinds of Galis (abuse or denunciation or revile) and seen people breaking their heads and bones. I finally realized one day that there is no Gali as such, it is just a statement about relationship or state of sex that is not true. I never gave Galis to anyone intentionally, although I learned every Gali in Telugu and Urdu at an early age.
There was an old lady with three daughters and three sons. All of them were married. When we were small, often used to see the fighting among themselves. The whole families and their children used to fight ferociously. Sometimes they threw bricks and rocks against each other. Over the years as some of them died with age they are calm and peaceful now.
In the last ten years, a lady is staying in a rented house across the street. This lady emerged into a kind of leader. She is loud-mouthed and fought with everyone in the street already. She reconciles people and also supports any work related to common issues such as water supply, electricity failure, drainage overflow, etc. She is very good at mobilising a group of people for any common cause. There is a water tank placed in the street next to our house. The municipality supplies water through a borewell. It is the center of activity from morning to dawn. She dominates in deciding who should take water from the public tap. During the elections period, one could see a stream of people gathering here; she pays people for joining a rally, a public meeting or anything some political parties require. The local politicians seek her services. During my childhood, she used to sell vegetables near the main road.
When I was young, used to play glass marbles and Gilli Danda (small and a medium stick) on the streets. I knew everyone in the street and mingled with everyone like a basti boy. But one day when I was about 13 years old, my mother told me not to go out and play with the basti friends. I stopped going out and completely gave up meeting childhood friends nor made any new friends after that. To ignore many deviations and distractions while coming in or going out of the basti, I learned to walk very fast and mostly by looking down.
There was a mentally insane lady called Yellamma, near Jandakada in the basti. Kids used to tease her by calling her Yellamma ..Pui ..Pui, she often gets infuriated by their calls. She then threw stones at the people giving all kinds of Galis.
We had typical names for the places near our house such as Jandakada (Near the flag post), where flag is hoisted during Republic and Independence days; Girnikada (near flour mill); Chinna dukanam - Small shop); Vepa chettu kinda dukanam - The shop below the Neem tree; Marwadi shop; Imarat Building (Imarat means building); Gudikada (Near the temple); Main road, Masjidkada (near mosque), etc. These names were understood by everyone in the basti.
On the way from home to the main road, the distance was about 0.5 km. The street dogs were many, but there are few dogs without any provocation they would ferociously bark and try to attack. I learned to ignore and respect these dogs, just like the troublemakers on the streets.
Some of the basti people are poor too. Some children don’t aspire much for higher education. Because of the culture of a basti, some children were dropouts also. Fighting is a common trait of the basti people. Few of them become Goondas or Rowdies. Sometimes unnecessarily they shout loud or make catcalls and blow whistles to draw the attention of others and make their presence felt. They make loud sound by tuning the silencers of their motorcycles. Some of them have typical horns for their motorcycles and make annoying sounds. While walking, I always ignored such sounds and never made eye contact with such persons. By ignoring them, they also ignored me, and I always had my own space and freedom.