Are we really free?

 

Walking past the neighborhood and seeing the Tricolor fluttering on the neighbor’s balcony gave me goosebumps as it always does. The setting sun added a serene touch to the surrounding and my thoughts went back and forth struggling to find meaning to that sense of pride on being a free citizen, of living in an independent country.

I looked at myself, I looked at the people around me, masked, unmasked, mask on the nose, mask on the chin, mask in the pocket. I pulled my mask slightly up my chin and as I struggled to breathe, I wondered why I couldn’t choose between whether I needed a mask or not, and why did I have to wear it if I wasn’t comfortable in it? How would I infect someone when I was healthy?  I kept thinking, I kept walking!

My phone rang, the usual random status check on my vaccination from my employers. I answered and quickly disconnected the call. Since when my health status or choice became subject of public interest. I walked still trying to enjoy the evening breeze when my FB notification beeped to say a close friend had changed her profile pic. I looked up quickly and noted the ‘I am vaccinated’ frame! Well, her choice I thought but the call from my employer still seemed to irritate me. Am I not free to make my choice and why do I need to announce?

I walked! I bumped into my next-door neighbor and after the usual exchange of greetings, she told me how her family has been struggling to meet their ends. They are in the business of supplying school uniforms to schools and for months no school has bought anything nor have they cleared the previous payments. Oh no! All these businesses, all these livelihoods, will there be an opportunity for any damage control.  We parted ways and I walked on. Thinking!

Thinking…what kind of independent country keeps its children locked up in homes. Do we know the psychological impact and do we know if these children will be ever able to move around freely, play and enjoy the rights a child is supposed to have? Will today’s children grow up as ‘free’ when they are actually locked up in their homes in their growing up years?

 

I turned to come back home and dip my worries in a cup of tea when two cycles passed by me, two young girls riding, and their father slowly trying to keep pace with them as he ran slowly. These children and their father were unmasked. Well, I thought maybe we still have ‘hope’!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life moves on...

It was 1987 and Shillong was under curfew then; in fact 6-7 months of curfew with temporary relaxations. My grandpa passed away then and I have faded memories of how we had to deal with the situation. Neighbours and relatives helped us through the situation then. Grandpa had been keeping unwell for some time however he relatively died a painless death just on the second day after suffering from a brain stroke. How he almost sensed his passing away weeks before has to be saved for another day, another post!

Yesterday, back home in Shillong, one of our tenant's wife passed away. She was in dialysis since 5-6 years now. The lady and the family was of course suffering and the husband had demonstrated utmost patience all these years. Her passing away must have relieved her of all the pain, and may be the pain of the family to a certain extent. She leaves a daughter who is 15 or 16 and to spend the rest of her adolescence without her mother is very hard for me to imagine.

Why I remembered the curfew of 1987 today was simply because we are in lockdown now and in similar circumstances. The husband managed to take her now 'dead' body to Silchar where the rest of the family is. What a pain that must be to know that there was no life left in that body, the body and the soul which has been by his side all these time. How must he be bearing his pain and also the daughter's is difficult to comprehend.

Leaves me speechless with the thought of helplessness, with the thought that we really have no control of anything in our lives. Much as I empathize with the family, there is hardly that i can do anything about it other than just to watch...

Umpling, where we belong!

Umpling

I decided to google the word and to my surprise a whole lot of results popped up including maps and weather. What perhaps will never come out is the history, the emotions and the hardships that made Umpling.

We have grown up seeing the changes to the name itself…from Umpling to U Tirot Singh Nagar to Rynjah to RR colony.  RR colony means Refugee Rehabilitation colony and this name was supposed to be linked to our identity.

Founded in 1958(those reading please correct me if I am wrong) this was one of the shelter colonies of people who had left behind their land as the country was getting divided. One of the prominent personalities, Shri Deepak Das, was one of the key founding members who among some others were the pillars of having established a home for the refugees. Another eminent personality was Dr Sudhanshu Das who had come to Shillong from Sylhet in 1950 and played a major part in the establishment of the colony.

This land was totally uninhabited then, surrounded by forests, without roads and building a simple house was a mighty task. I have heard stories from my grandmother and aunts how they had to cut through hilly land to make it suitable for a house to be built. Lack of transport, scarcity of water, no markets near by was only some of the hardships that I can write about. The Umpling Welfare Society was then formed somewhere around 1960 which still thrives although the name of the society might have undergone several changes. This society took the task of getting the basic amenities to the people and it wasn’t before the hard work and struggle of several men of courage that ultimately gave the shape to what today the place is. Yes, it is one of the most beautiful colonies of Shillong thriving with life. No where the joy, the beauty and the ecstasy can be felt during Durga Puja, the way it is in Umpling today. I read a FB caption of someone recently saying ‘Amra kara Umpling Para’. It means ‘Who are we? Umpling Colony’, yes that’s the camaraderie I hope lives on. It brought me tears; the memories are too tightly woven to be forgotten.

Surviving meant not only catering to the basic necessities and building on it but also meant to protect the self and the colony, ensuring free land was not getting occupied by unsocial elements. Temples were built, which have stood to be our protectors for all times. Many a times houses build which were considered unauthorized have been brought down bringing to people untold hardships and every day tension and insecurity.

What we see today is the modernization of Rynjah - vehicles plying through roads where we as young people would play, gossip and hang around; shopping centres being built and vegetable market almost entering the colony crossroads. Many people have sold their land and property which their forefathers had struggled to build, moving with children to distant lands for education and jobs. Some like us still can go back but for how long we do not know! We have grown up hearing and living the tribal-non tribal clashes and being told the only way out is to leave and make a living elsewhere. But now again we want to run back from the hustle and bustle of our city life to those quiet corners but do what?

The struggle still continues; whether to get Umpling/Rynjah under the Khasi local laws which would take away the independence of the colony and unnecessary adherence to laws that do not mean anything.

We do not know what the future holds but only wish life to flourish in Umpling as it always does!

Butterfly Museum, Shillong

Pretty painted butterfly

What do you do all day?

I roam about the sunny fields

And nothing to do but play!

Nothing to do but play? All the lifelong day?

So fly butterfly, to waste your time away!

This poem of childhood years lives in my memories still, and why not? Butterflies are one of the most beautiful beings on this earth and many times I have chased butterflies in the garden and fields. Oh the beautiful colours they come with, and the softness. Many a times I have tried capturing these beauties on a camera but failed either because of their agility or my lack of patience.

One man, however decided to preserve these. Mr Siddhartha Kumar Sarkar, an entomologist from Kolkata went to Shillong and settled there. He and his wife collected various species and built this museum of butterflies.

The Butterfly Museum in Shillong is a privately owned museum and  has a collection of butterflies, moths, beetles and spiders from across the world. One will be mesmerized by the colours and the patterns in the collections that the museum has!

A must visit for anyone planning a trip to Shillong

Summer of 2018

Shillong, June 2018.

People in general are blissfully numb and one often hears that Shillong is now peaceful. Well, partly yes but that is because most of the non-tribal population is already gone!

June 2018 was when similar issues resurfaced again.  How and why?

History

The so called Dalit Sikhs are one of the earliest non-tribal settlers in Shillong. The place they settled down came to be known as Punjabi or Sweepers’ Lane. Yes, these people did the entire manual scavenging job.

It is also believed that an attempt has been made several times to shift the colony to the city outskirts. The Sikhs have ever refused as this land was supposed to be given for permanent settlement.

How did it start?

On May 31, there was a minor scuffle between girls of that community and a local bus driver and his friends who had supposedly teased them or blocked their way when they went to fetch water. It is believed that a compromise was reached however a whatasapp message that was doing the rounds claiming that the local boys had died added fuel to the communal tension that existed through generations already.

Consequences

Tension prevailed for a week or so, and curfew was imposed which is a normal Shillong phenomenon, the residents have grown up with! Not just that, the army had to conduct flag marches. The mobile internet services were suspended as a measure to curb spreading of rumors.  Incidents of stone throwing, hurling petrol bombs happened in nooks are corners of the city. Again, an age old Shillong phenomenon!

And the Sense of Community

The entire Punjab stood in support for the Sikh community. The Punjab cabinet approved compensation to the Sikh community residing in Shillong and affected by the clashes. The Delhi Sikh Gurudwara Management Committee and Shiromani Akali Dal Badal leaders took to the cause of the community and urged the Government to take appropriate measures and steps to ensure their safety.

Retrospection

Contrast this with the riots affecting the Bengali community over various periods of time in history of Shillong and one will hardly find any instance of support from West Bengal. The then Government of India  hardly paid any attention, partly because they were not interested and largely because there were no pressure groups. 

The sense of Community in WB is only limited to where their ego gets a boost...that's it!

 

A Cricket Crazy I Was

I had just finished one of my papers the previous day and sat brooding over what could have gone better. I focused on what went wrong rather than preparing for the next paper. But only until afternoon when the next match in the 1996 World Cup Cricket would begin. I reluctantly had my lunch and switched on the TV promising myself I would not stay glued to it for long.

Everything, including my mood and resolution changed in a few minutes when the winners of a certain ‘Best Catch and Run-out’ competition were to be announced. It was a few weeks before that when I decided on which was the best catch and run-out in a certain mid-match competition and wanted to answer the question. Sending through India Post, I knew would be slow and my answers would never reach before the last date, so I had called up my Uncle and asked him if he could fax from his office. He did.

Coming back to the announcement moment, my heart skipped several beats as I waited for the announcements; the judges' choices had matched mine! The second runner up was to be announced first and as the host Charu Sharma picked up the winner from a bunch of post cards, I knew it couldn’t be me! He then announced that he would pick up the first runner up from the bunch of faxes and I breathed a sigh of relief.  He then said it’s from a very far off place and I was almost telling myself that it had to me! In a few seconds, my name flashed across the TV screen and in those days when people paid less heed to privacy, my address too was on the screen. Yes, it was me! Yes, it was me!

I jumped up and down and cried and laughed loud and some of the neighbours thought that the siblings might be at their usual round of fights. I was alone at home and had just me to celebrate with! Not for long though as the phone started ringing...my uncle, my teacher ABD, my friends and relatives all who were watching TV that moment called up to congratulate. I called Baba but by that time the news had already reached him! Yes, it was one of those lucky lucky moments you want to remember for a lifetime.

I became a celebrity of sorts, everywhere I went random people would enquire and talk about it. I made several pen pals then, people who had caught my short address quick and written to me. At times, I would be embarrassed by people asking me if I had received the TV as it took a lot of effort from Baba and my aunt to actually get that coveted prize home. The Videocon 14 inch colour TV still lives in our home. Needless to say I didn’t care much for the First Prize as it was a ticket to Eden Gardens for the semis which I was eventually glad to have not won, thanks to the India-Srilanka outcome.

I don't think I will watch the 2019 Cricket World Cup but once was upon a time 'A Cricket Crazy I Was!

Summer of 1987

Shillong 1987



I don't remember which month it was but it was summer! It was just another normal day at school, when a group of boys entered the school premises and asked everyone to leave school. They also told us to stay at home for the next few days. What followed for the next few months could only be thought of as a story by anyone who has not lived it!

We were anyways growing up in an environment where we knew ourselves as outsiders, and we knew the reason...we didn't belong there and we didn't belong anywhere else! We were foreigners in our own country, yes we were foreigners in India.

It was another tribal/non-tribal clash. To be fair, it can't be called a clash as the land supposedly belonged to the tribals and they would resort to violence to create an atmosphere of panic.  It was one sided. This year it was directed at the Nepalis however at certain time or the other every non tribal community - the Bengalis, the Punjabi, the Marwaris all suffered. Banners and posters would clearly read 'Non-tribals get out'.

The KSU(Khasi Students Union) took the lead and resorted to violence against the non-tribals. Though initially it was targeted at illegal Bangladeshi however every non tribal community came under the radar. The state Government hardly took any action and watched in silence the death of non-tribals, the setting ablaze of shops and business establishments of the non-tribals, the unnecessary harassment to name a few!The Central Government was silent and indifferent.

When the Students' union leader was detained, what followed was 'blackout'. Yes, we lived in that part of independent India where we had to switch off the lights of our home in the evening. We  grew up in the midst of Bandhs and Curfews which were normal and never surprised anyone.

Our schools were closed indefinitely, hurting the young brains and making them fearful of each day. Our school however resorted to taking some classes outside school premises. We went to school in civil dresses, had combined classes with juniors and seniors. We did not have a class routine and lessons were taught on an adhoc basis. We kept learning amidst fear. Yes, we lived that life where we went to school in disguise. We waited for our parents to return home safe, after their work and not  a day passed when tension left us. Disruption of Durga Puja celebrations, hurling petrol bombs, deserted streets were the norm of the day.

So began another displacement, non-tribals in large numbers either vacated the tribal dominated areas or left the state for good. Some sold their homes  and properties to move to mainland India. Localities were cleansed of non-tribal population. Another kind on an exodus is what had happened unknown to the world at large.  This was neither the beginning nor the end of it...


https://do-re-mi-do-re-mi.blogspot.com/2019/06/summer-of-2018.html