The Cocoon : A Confused Identity

A typical shop in the cocoon sold grocery items at a wholesale rate - cigarettes, beedis, gutkha, soaps, shampoos and washing powder - these definitely had to be there at every shop. Apart from the same, each shop also had some special items on stock as well. On the far end of the lane was on such shop. This shop which provided a frontage to a building with a chimney and thick, grey smoke gently billowing out, thick and black at the base, but moderating its hues and mixing with the cerulean sky above. The owner, a devout Muslim with his taqiyah on at all times and a beard which was thick at the burns but moderated towards the inner part of his cheek bones, betrayed his ancestral roots. A very fair skinned man, his family had migrated from the western part of the country, in Gujarat, about 45 years ago, but he had no recollection of ever having been in that land.

His was a typical case of confused origins as he belonged to the second generation. His father had migrated from Gujarat in his youth, and had his cultural identity intact. His sons and daughters had been born and brought up here. They were familiar with Kannada, and had in fact, learnt to think in Kannada before converting their thought to Urdu. But Qadir Bhai, as he was popularly called by everyone, Qadir Bhai was different. His parents had talked to him in Urdu mixed with a smattering of Gujarati, but in the madarasa, it was Kannada mixed with a smattering of Urdu. The concept of a wearing a taqiyah with a panchey or a lungi was particularly alien than the pathankoth he used to previously wear.

In fact his family had had a great problem adjusting to the regularly available oota (meals) and as an escape his father had started a groundnut mill. This mill or factory would churn out groundnuts from their shells, heat them up and be mixed with an assortment of spices. Qadir told me that's how he had started his career, handling the mill inside, whereas his father used to take care of the sales and accounts outside. Qadir had grown through the ranks, superseding his elder brothers as well, and had been promoted as the deputy to his father. It was then that he thought to take advantage of the frontage his shop offered. One by one, products other than the groundnuts in plastics had started appearing in the shelves that thronged the walls of his father's shop. Though his father and brothers had disapproved, Qadir had gone through with the expansion drive, was was soon calling the shots in the shop. A bitter dispute and nights of rancor later, his brothers had left, taking a money equivalent of their share. His father had passed away soon as well, a fragile heart which could not take the toll of his family's separation.

With a heavy heart, Qadir remembered performing the last rites of his father, and how he had felt joyous too at the occasion; the shop was his to keep. But there had been no looking back since. His clientele increased, and now covered non-groundnut purchasers too, brought on the back of recommendations from satisfied customers - fellow Muslim immigrants from north India who shared the same dilemma as Qadir was his largest base. The cocoon, which at that time comprised of only specialist sellers soon adapted to this successful model of business extension. It would not be too wrong to say that this confused man, a man who had no extraordinary powers or talents or contacts, had a very large hand in shaping the cocoon to its present thriving form. The irony was that even though he was an integral part of the cocoon, Qadir himself did not know whether he belonged here.