শেৱালী-হাচনাহানা

গোট মাৰি যোৱা  নিষিদ্ধ পল্লীৰ কাষতে পৰি আছে –

শেৱালী ফুলবোৰ..  

চিন্ময়ীৰ দেখা-দেখি নাই;

এইবাৰ শৰৎ নিস্তব্ধ, এইবাৰ উকা পদূলি।

নেথাকে  আবেলিৰ আৰতি,

নজ্বলিব এশ- এযুত বন্তি।

বতাহতো নাই পূজা-পূজা গোন্ধ…

কিন্তু শেৱালী -হাচনাহানায়ে আশা এৰা নাই।

শাৰদীয়ে আকৌ হাঁহিব,

তৰাৰ বুটা-বচা আঁচলৰ চাদৰ লৈ শেৱালী-হাচনাহানাই মিচিকিয়াব……

 

 

 

Some repressed feelings

 

Birds of the same feathers seem to have spread their wings to spread hatred and intolerance…

I am wary of voicing my views in public, lest I should be jailed or branded a ‘traitor’, or maybe charged with sedition and get labeled as an ‘anti-nationalist’. All throughout my life, I have taken immense pride in being an Indian and needless to say, I have been very very vocal about my love for my motherland. I also confess that I have been partial towards my own religion (I believe that except the atheists, everyone believes in their own religion) and have tried to follow the rituals and ceremonies associated with it. But that does not mean that I am a connoisseur of Hinduism. I have read about my religion, and I have a decent knowledge about the epics and the religious books associated with the religion I was born into. Also, I never harboured any repulsion or hatred for my friends, acquaintances and peers who were of other faiths.

Hindutva, or Hinduism if you prefer to use the term, seems to have imbibed a sense of urgency these days. The religion which I have been following since my birth, replete with the soul- stirring ‘rupang dehi’ of Durga Puja, or the ‘lakhi pasani’  recited by our mothers and aunts during the quiet yet profound Lakhi Puja of the yore, seem to have faded into oblivion. What I see around me now really astonishes me. The loudspeakers belting out noisy ‘devotional songs’ with melodramatics lyrics and with tunes of popular Hindi-film songs, the exorbitantly lavish Puja pandals , and above all, the slow but sure change in the thought-process of the people in my life,  make me wonder if I am a ‘bad Hindu’.

The tolerance associated with my religion seems to have disappeared. I can no longer associate Hinduism with the all-encompassing ethos which made it a profound faith (as I say this, I wonder what my family/friends would say. I can almost hear them saying, “All Brahmin girls are somehow unnaturally attracted to Muslim boys. They run off with Muslim boys and settle down, and thus the Muslims successfully convert many girls.”). I remember Mr L.K Advani of decades back, a strong, opinionated and popular leader, doing Rath Yatras; and when I think of Advani, another image pops up in my mind’s window – that of a gentle, patient, yet firm Atal Behari Vajpayee. There was an element of balance between these two – if one was fire, the other one was water – if one was loud, the other one was serene. Isn’t this is how a balance is maintained? I do not know anymore, I do not know what I have always felt about this aspect anymore.

‘Secularism’ is now just a chapter in the Civics textbook of my kids. I find it hard to explain the concept to my sons who are entering the threshold of teenage-world. I do not know what to teach them about the ‘equality of religion’ and ‘to harbor a feeling of respect for all faiths and beliefs’. Yes, I feel I have failed them. I feel we all, the parents of these times, have been mute spectators to things which we do not believe in, yet we keep dumb, we pretend that this is the right way.

Imagine this. We are living in the year 2020 A.D. And what the national obsession is right now? Picking up and dissecting historical wrongs and reacting like absolute fools! Babri Masjid, an issue that took place 28 years ago, still remains fresh. Not only fresh, we deliberately scrap the wound periodically so that it bleeds and we react. Forget this three decade old issue. There are incidents of the 15th century, 17th century, which we like to dig out, and debates lasting hours at prime time on national television ‘analyse’ and opine on these mummified incidents/issues. Such is the situation that a girl getting raped and killed might not get justice, but a cow getting slaughtered will cause national pandemonium. The icing on the cake is to rope in a couple of fanatics from different religions, and make them spew venom on cacophonic news channels.

And now I feel, this situation is here to stay. Unfortunately, our country’s oldest political party, with its obsession for dynasty-dominance, is incapable of providing a strong, robust opposition.  With the passage of time, there is increasing re-affirmation of the hyper-nationalist rhetoric with Muslims as the thinly-veiled other. We are currently a nation where people sit with their evening drinks cursing Mahatma Gandhi/ Jawaharlal Nehru for the partition, or have highly polarized discussions about how the Muslim youths of today are increasingly becoming radicalized.

I do agree that in the past few decades, Islam has acquired a very sinister face. The brutal videos released by ISIS and Al Qaida send shivers up the spine. Till date, I cannot get over the gruesome video of Daniel Pearl. But deep within, I had a feeling that my country would be different. Alas, that is no longer the case now. The transformation currently under way in Hinduism is among the most significant in our country’s history. It has much in common with similar changes taking place in Islam, Buddhism, Christianity and other religions. Buddhist monks sworn to nonviolence lead massacres in Myanmar and Sri Lanka; most radical Islamists are poorly versed in the Quran; many evangelical Christians care so much about issues never mentioned by Jesus, such as abortion and homosexuality.. Is it increasing intolerance to beliefs which are not in tune with our own?  Or is it that religion is no longer a matter of what we believe or do, but rather it is something that we are required to portray before others? People from all faiths are radicalized. There is no space for any liberal thinking. At times, I wonder if I am besmirching my religion by having these thoughts. I am sure that I will be called a ‘leftist’, ‘urban naxalite’, ‘anti-Indian’, etc if I voice my opinions.

But I cannot lie to myself. I cannot harbor so much hatred for everyone who is not a Hindu.

Is this the true, unalloyed form of my religion? My religion is at its glorious best now. There are temples being constructed with billions of tax-payers money. There are festivals being celebrated with unparalleled fervor. History textbooks are being rewritten. Cities and states and streets are being renamed. I guess my religion never had it so good, but ironically, national harmony never had it so bad….

The Overlap

The Overlap Rinki ba, my usually - balanced cousin who lives 300 odd kilometres away from me, sounded a bit rattled and spoke with an odd unease when she called me a few weeks back. Starting with the usual cursing of China for the COVID-19 outbreak, she steered the conversation to topics like mud in her home's compound, the repulsive taste of the unseasonal mangoes and the futility of the recent floor-disinfectant that she had purchased.  I wondered where this was leading. Was she trying to tell me about some soupy situation where I have landed myself due to my untamed tongue? I wondered if she was trying to tell me that our harmless gossips leaked out and reached the ears of the victims. At one point, I also imagined that Rinki ba was merely trying to cheer me up during the lockdown period.  As my anticipation increased, her speed of conversation decreased. Almost inaudible she said, " I need to tell you something." I exhaled out the breathe that I was holding for some inhuman period of time. "What?" , I asked cautiously. I waited as she whispered on the mobile, " Actually there is something which I need to tell you.You see, there's a dog, a cute one. And Pinki ( Rinki ba's sister who's married to an army doctor, Debu) and Debu recently got her from a retired army family." I scratched my head, trying to find the missing link. I disliked dogs, never even thought of keeping one as a pet, and seriously thought what Pinki's dog has to do with me! I talked with Pinki almost every weekend, and what is it that she had to take the help of her sister to talk to me on her behalf. After a hesitant pause, Rinki ba continued, "The dog's name is Mayuri". Well, that's my name !  I could imagine the effort it took for the sensible, serious Rinki ba to 'break' this news to her volatile cousin - me!! My furry namesake didn't bother me much - the canine Mayuri lives in Delhi Cantontment, while I live in Guwahati..And I haven't had the opportunity to come face to face with her. Priority issues during the coronavirus pandemic, like running the household without my part-timer, returning home  every day from the hospital where I work and getting myself sanitized and coping with the kids' online classes, kept my mind off the 'curious case of naming Mayuri'.. Before long, I heard from Kamalika, my college friend, whose husband Bidhan da is an army doctor. Pinki's family and they are neighbours.  Kamalika has a dog (he goes by the debonair name Daniel); so that makes Bidhan da and Debu dog-walking mates.  One fine evening, Debu and Bidhan da were walking their respective dogs. Suddenly Bidhan da turned serious and turned to Debu, "Goswami da, this will not do. You have to change Mayuri 's name." The concern was for the wife's friend who visited them almost thrice a year, complicated by the fact that she also visited Mayuri 's new home to meet her cousin (Pinki). How can it be that Mayuri should have the same name as a dog?  Knowing both Debu and Bidhan da, I can imagine the looks on their serious faces while the conversation took place. As Kamalika narrated, Debu assured Bidhan da that something has to be done to sort the matter out.  It seems that a week went by, and Bidhan da needed to know whether any effective action was taken or not. So, again over the evening dog walking session, Bidhan da asked Debu what the status of the matter was. Debu, with all the seriousness he could muster, replied, " Mayuri wouldn't accept another name. She's already nine years old; we tried calling her by another name, but she doesn't respond."  The notoriously uncomfortable topic of our (me and my furry namesake) names remains status quo as the COVID-19 pandemic has ensured that I cannot travel to Delhi anytime soon to meet the other Mayuri. And to be honest, this name overlap gave us all a topic other than coronavirus to discuss about in these gloomy  lockdown days. At some point, people probably won’t even remember who came first, me or the dog. But what will remain in the archives of our memory is the situation that it created for us all. This hilarious 'co-naming' nullified Shakespeare ( who famously declared 'what's there in a name!').  And thankfully, I have a pet name which doesn't even rhyme with 'Mayuri '!!

Change in my city..

I was trying to place an online order, and the address section required me to fill any ‘LANDMARK’ near my workplace for easy delivery. The word sent me thinking about the many landmarks which are now no longer a part of the cityscape of Guwahati, and also those places which struggle to survive in this rapidly evolving megapolis.

My sons, on the threshold of their teenage years, have begun to ridicule my oft-mentioned reminisces of these old and dilapidated structures whose mention is unavoidable in my daily conversation with them.  Yes, I tell them, when I was not ‘salted and peppered’ those ‘landmarks’ were teeming with life and stories.

A self-declared gourmand, it is but natural that I begin my monologue with the mention of Reboti, synonymous with chowmein. Long before hakka, hofun, ramen, udon, etc. became a part of the foodies’ vocabulary in Guwahati, we were already munching on cabbage-flavoured oily tasty chow-chow of Reboti beneath the olive-green canopy of the ancient tree. Momo was synonymous with the thatched U-Turn; its decaying skeleton is now a sad reflection of its erstwhile glorious days.

While it is a luxury munching caramel popcorn and putting up the legs in luxurious laze in the recliners of the PVRs and Cinepolis, I cannot help but pass a nostalgic glance at the mildew-laden, defaced and ageing walls of Meghdoot, Apsara, Neptune, etc. There was a time when we eagerly awaited the arrival of the newspaper; just to have a glance at which movie is being played at which cinema hall. Even the appellation ‘cinema - hall’ is on the verge of extinction with more time-apt words like multiplex becoming a part of our lives. Now these single screened cinema halls are twisted for a different purpose, for some different audience.  Like a comatose patient, these halls live in a vegetative state now.

Dating used to be a luxury. ‘Lying through the teeth, saying that I am going to a friend’s place’ should be the real description of ‘dating’ in the days of saah-singra at Lakhi Cabin, or for the heavy pursers, a luxurious lunch at China Town or Hotel Dynasty. It was such a big deal! Those were simpler times, when there was neither the opportunity nor the urge to send semi-clad (or no-clad!) photos to people whom we met online. Guided by Linda Goodman’s Love Signs and goaded by an older cousin who just met someone wonderful at a birthday party, dating was uncomplicated, and in today’s context, naïve. The most fabulous way to prove your affection to someone special was to create for them a mix tape, which included a stealthy trip to the corner store to buy a ‘blank cassette’, and an eclectic medley of  Saason Ki Zaroorat Hain Jaise, (Everything I Do) I Do It For You, My Heart will Go On, Aate Jaate Haanste Gaate, Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For  You, and so on. For the shier ones, things were easier still; all it required was a quick visit to the Archies Gallery and buy a ‘card’, preferable one with red roses. The cassette/CD stores are long since gone, and what remains with me now is the memory of the various songs I used to listen to.

The marriage halls of yore are also gone. This includes the one where yours truly too got hitched; it now houses a nationalized bank. With fewer guests and no themes, the marriage halls too were simple structures. These have now given way to smart businesses now. I zoom past Kunjalata Bibah Bhawan every day, and I wonder if it will ever see its glorious days again.

Amidst all these vanishing landmarks, it feels good to find a few still standing strong, fighting the fast onslaught of change which is not always a gentle procedure. Shaikh Brothers, Guwahati Bakery, Eggs-O-Tik, Benaras Dyers, Hotel Nandan and Momo Ghar all stand witness to the times long gone. An integral part of the mythos of Guwahati, the vanished and the vanishing landmarks will soon remain only in the lore and reminiscences of the generation which too will soon become history. Till then I will cherish them, think and talk about them and will tell the younger lot how these dilapidated structures were once alive. Who knows, maybe someday a young author may decide to unearth their stories and write a best-selling memoir on them?