Sagan, Rohith...and I

There is a bond between readers which transcends time and space...the bond of shared imagination.

Rohith liked Carl Sagan, nature and stars. So do I. He dreamt of going to different planets. As did I. I spent nights watching stars in the isolation of natures, dreaming of civilisations inside those stars and when humankind would reach them. And perhaps he did too. I read every science fiction book I could, I was the one of the crew in Rama, i was the one who discovered the alien presence in Contact. Perhaps when I was dreaming of stars so was Rohith.  Except that from science fiction, I returned into my upper caste world of privilege, and he returned to his (i assume) small house in a small village supporting his family. Dreaming of distant lands, I went to a ivy league university in New York; while he worked towards a scientific phd in the urban metro of Hyderabad, trying to support his family and perhaps congratulating himself on arriving at a casteless world. However he soon became cynical dalit activist, fighting for his and his brothers rights; while i even as I worked in human rights retained a belief in basic goodness of human beings...both of us shaped by our experiences. 

At Columbia University, I often pointed to the bust of Ambedkar in front of the library, one of its many famous alums; and proudly proclaimed to my American friends..'he was one of ours', sharing in the genius of Ambedkar. Seeing his bust at one of the worlds best universities went a long way in convincing me how dead caste was in 21st century world. 

I've had this strange thought many times in the last few days. What if Rohith had been studying at New York, instead of Hyderabad. Would he have escaped his destiny then? To the foreigners, caste is a fascinating abomination. Perhaps he would've told them stories of growing up underprivileged, in the process throwing away a part of his baggage and pain. I think of him strolling the streets of upper west, hanging around in the Hungarian Cafe with a book in his hand,  like so many impoverished would-be writers in New york. And he'd have made it too. The impact of his writing, the fact that it resonated with India is a tribute to how good a writer he was. Worthy of Carl Sagan. Instead he became a body tied to a noose, a symbol of repression; or an uncomfortable reminder of caste divides which middle class India wants to forget in 21st century. He won't write like Sagan, nor gaze at the stars, will never dream of going to other worlds. 

Sagan, Rohith and i ..all dreamt of the stars but while Sagan has became immortal with his books, and i will probably live in comfortable anonymity, Rohith will just be a face on revolutionary posters. I'll never know what he thought of other science fiction writers. His letter spoke the truth. His birth was his fatal accident..in the country where the curse of caste flourishes.

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