In the summer of 1992, while journeying with my family from Howrah to New Delhi by the Rajdhani Express, two gentleman from Assam befriended me. I was, at that time, a chubby little kid of seven. As they talked to me about my school, the subjects I liked and the sports I played, I put my social studies lessons to use and created a map of India in my mind. Assam. Capital:Dispur. All I knew about Assam at that time was that it was where our tea came from, a huge river named Brahmaputra, called Tsangpo in Tibet, ran through it and there were forests where the thick skinned, and apparently bullet proof, rhinos lived. Barua sir, our PT teacher in school, was an Asomiya. His pockets were permanently filled with toffees for all the students and there were moments when he had spoken to me in Santhali, my mother tongue and one of India's widely spoken languages, of which he knew a smattering. During a recent visit to Delhi I was shopping for DVDs of hard to find avant-garde films in Palika Bazaar. While I was making a choice between Amores Perros and In the Mood for Love, a young man standing next to me whopped at having made prized discoveries - Conrad Rook's Siddhartha and a posse of Satyajit Ray's films, the names of which he pronounced in impeccable Bengali. I asked him if he was one. He replied that he was an Assamese and could speak Bengali.
This weekend when I read about the riots in Guwahati and saw on TV the brutality with which tribal students were beaten up and tribal women were stripped in full view of the police, I was immediately reminded of the Asomiyas I have come across in my life so far: those amiable co-passengers in the Rajdhani, our wonderful teacher, and that young cinema afficionado. I wonder if those who were photographed brandishing clubs and other weapons are in any way different from their counterparts who I have written about. I wonder, if the non-Asomiyas would think twice before setting foot inside this state, which has in recent times witnessed most virulent form of intolerance. I wonder if a seven year old can ever again associate Assam only with lush tea estates, the majestic Brahmaputra, powerful rhinos and pleasant people. But then, again, intolerance and violence are not unique to Assam. Scan the newspapers for evidence.
The above article was taken from The Times of India, dated 30th Nov,2007.It was a lead article written by Hansda Sowvendra Shekhar.
This weekend when I read about the riots in Guwahati and saw on TV the brutality with which tribal students were beaten up and tribal women were stripped in full view of the police, I was immediately reminded of the Asomiyas I have come across in my life so far: those amiable co-passengers in the Rajdhani, our wonderful teacher, and that young cinema afficionado. I wonder if those who were photographed brandishing clubs and other weapons are in any way different from their counterparts who I have written about. I wonder, if the non-Asomiyas would think twice before setting foot inside this state, which has in recent times witnessed most virulent form of intolerance. I wonder if a seven year old can ever again associate Assam only with lush tea estates, the majestic Brahmaputra, powerful rhinos and pleasant people. But then, again, intolerance and violence are not unique to Assam. Scan the newspapers for evidence.
The above article was taken from The Times of India, dated 30th Nov,2007.It was a lead article written by Hansda Sowvendra Shekhar.
