TIGblogs TIG | TIGblogs GROUP TIGBLOGS LOGIN SIGNUP
shakil ahmed - My Blog
shakil ahmed - My Blog


Tenants are for loot and scoot in muslim localities in Delhi
Related to country: India

Translations available in: English (original) | French | Spanish | Italian | German | Portuguese | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

A racket between the landlord and the property dealer is increasingly becoming a trend in Okhla area whereby the land lord has infinite supply of tenants in row. The land lord after next month or more asks the tenant to vacate the room, the property dealer supplies a tenant from whom he charges an amount equal to one month's rent. The land lord keeps ejecting tenants and property dealers who more often than not happen to be relatives of land lords keep earning commission- a percentage of which is given to the landlord. The property dealer tries to extract exorbitant rent from the tenants badly in need of shelter! From day one the land lord usually would keep troubling the tenant under one pretext or the other. it is sometimes missing of something and some times false allegation of misdemeanour or doubtful behaviour. Fahims land lord only yesterday alleged that he saw him naked outside the room . This list is long.
The landlords to say could be the owner of 5floor building or hurried cobbled up unplastered brick houses, with small hovels for rooms. build on 50 sq ft of encroached land. The land lords would count how many times you had been to urinals and toilets.they and their family members would pass adverse remarks if they happen to see you near the house during the day. A tenant is expected not to return before 9 in the night.


August 24, 2008 | 5:38 AM Comments  0 comments



My earliest days
Related to country: Isle of Man

Translations available in: English (original) | French | Spanish | Italian | German | Portuguese | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

I was born in April. My mother delivered me at home in the small corner room over looking the busy road in a two story delapididated building, in a Muslim dominated locality in Kolkata the erstwhile British capital of India
It was a happy home, sweet home till I gained consciousness of immortal gloom that enveloped us and still stalks me from all side.
My father was not even able to bear school fees of Rs. 10/- because of big family consisting of 12 heads that included dependent aunt, and cousins.

I sat outside the office of principal, Aapa sat beside me. She had prepared me for the interview; I don’t remember the face of father. I remember hazily that he made me read from a colorful alphabet book. He talked to me English and probably asked simple questions. After coming out of the office, I narrated to Aapa what principal made me read and what questions he asked. Probably she was not happy with several of my answers.

My supervisor mam who was of dark complexion, young, middle height wore thick red lipstick on her lips and smelled with scent, would roam the lawns while children played, to see if any of us spoke in our native tongue। She always carried a wooden ruler. If any of the children, was found not speaking in english, she would impose a fine of six paisa. She would take the student to principal office to note down particulars. She was a dedicated supervisor with a remarkable memory.
She would keep a sharp eye on students: on our dress, manners, cleanliness and behaviors, inside the classroom and outside of it.

It was my cousin sister who got me admitted to Welland Gold Smith School, at Bow Street and helped me oft and on with expenses. I remember the first day in the school vividly. The assembly in the chapel was in full swing. I went running on the stage, interrupting the proceedings and told ma'm in my native language i/e Urdu: : "Main toilet jaaunga" She made me repeat twice or thrice: "May I go to toilet".
Then there was an uncle the proprietor of an optical shop. Everyday he would distribute chocolates to students who passed by his shop.
Our dress was blue pant and yellow shirt. Bhaijan: Aquil adopted son of my aunt or Haqqa chaccha, Osman bhai , a servant who was rather a family member, would fetch me from the school at 2pm.The school was in fact 10-15 minutes walk from my home.

One day Aquil bhai on way from school told me that they have bought kids at home. I was overjoyed and began to twist and jump with joy while walking along the sidewalk.

They were three kids, white, brown and the other a mixture of brown and white. The brown one survived. After one year or so it was stolen. The goat was tied to a lamppost below. I was quite attached with the goat and felt very sad for many days.


Boys could only study up to class 2 in the school so she got my school changed when I passed class I and got me admitted to Ling Liang English High School- at Phears Lane। It was a missionary school। It was the values I imbibed in my missionary Schools made me misfit in the present society I think, I am seeking and searching the same values everywhere।



There was and endemic problem to keep me in the school because of fees repeated default in payment of fees and accumulation, dress, shoes, books exercise books and of course my poor performance and bad hand writing and poor health because of malnutrition. Some of my teachers thought that I was suffering from some disease and would avoid close contact.
Nevertheless my neighbors and relatives thought that I was intelligent and good.
So at last I was taken out of Ling Liang school mid-way and admitted to an Urdu medium school. I loved my previous school inspite of all the trouble and worry and wept. But I never insisted my parents to let me there, because I felt pity on them.



April 6, 2008 | 9:49 AM Comments  0 comments

Tags:


Thought of home is painful
Related to country: India

Translations available in: English (original) | French | Spanish | Italian | German | Portuguese | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

The thought of my native place brings nightmares and depression so much that my stomach churns breathing becomes shallow my limbs become numb.It is 12 years or more I have not been home do know who is there and who is not.I am the most coward man in the world. I don't want to hear any news either. Life was a tragedy. The sight of a letter from home made me catches my breath. There was always a bad news and request to do something for my sisters and help for other problems. I am the eldest of all my brothers and sisters. I have changed my address several times. My breast is loaded and heavy and breathing shallow as I write this message. 10/21/07 by shah

April 6, 2008 | 9:18 AM Comments  0 comments

Tags:




shakil ahmed's Profile

shakil ahmed's Friends


Latest Posts
Tenants are for loot...
The Gestapo of Delhi's...
Adhaan and men of clay
My earliest days
Thought of home is...

Monthly Archive
April 2008
June 2008
August 2008

Change Language


Tags Archive
indianlife payguestsindelhi shelterindelhi tenencylawindelhi

Filter By Type
Travel
Topics

Friends
ABDALHADI ALIJLA
abdul-mumin
Ahmed Ragab Al-Kotby
Hina
jimmie
Mahesh
Martín Miguel Arias
Natalia Lopez
Sarah Zaaimi
Tchekwie
UFJ


1752 views
Important Disclaimer