déjà vu

'Gone are the days when we were strong and our land voiced our opinions'
After the KSU rally, even i was taken aback by the violence that followed but i supported their cause. However, it surprise me now as how people are quick to condemn these acts without consideration as to why such act happen. In any revolution, violence has always been a vital part of the struggle if the continuous plea for reforms and development falls on deaf ears. How long can we shut up and eat hay while the powerful eat cakes? Why are we allowing ourself be the minority in our god given land. It is our right to fight with might. How dare they threaten us with trade ban(as per shg times report) and how dare they try to dictate us.
I say long live the KSU, and other ngo's who got balls to fight for my right.
I say Awake oh Khasi people and see that we are now the minority.I say long live the KSU, and other ngo's who got balls to fight for my right.I say Awake oh Khasi people and see that we are now the minority.

I say OCCUPY MEGHALAYA!!!

This is a Facebook status of a group with little less than thousand members liking its posts and the page.To have a status such as this only indicates the insecurity of a small community that has stayed curled up in its beautiful hills, contented within its gyre. A paradise for many, the land hasn't as yet "developed" much. 

 Just four days back on the 4th of April 2013, the violent rampage of a vibrant location in Shillong stood as a reminder. Demand for an inner line permit, demand for asking the outsiders to go back (Indians have replaced Simon who are now to go back!), call for occupying Meghalaya just jogged most of our memories who grew up in a volatile part of India steered by a certain students' union that it is a déjà vu for those who have been living with it since the attainment of statehood status from Assam in 1970.

Most of these chaps who indulge in the brutalizing the "others" act after a nod from the students' union. Unleashing the well nurtured hidden anger leads to  loosening of the purse strings of the pacificists. More hooch flow, some celebratory non-tribal bashing and then the world becomes rosy again. Staying "Indian", though by accident comes with its share of benefits, best understood by the minions of those who swear on their blood for their identity and trade it with the first possible sign of a better life. 

The saddest part is Shillong, the capital of Meghalaya often is in news for wrong reasons. In any case mainstream media like the Govt in the center refuse to acknowledge their existence. There is either Chinese incursion or the ethnic riot which manages a few second airtime and couple of hundred words in the print. Rest do not matter. 



Incidences like this only reopen the wounds and keep it festering. 

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Shillong- trois i'an plus tard

45 degrees and still surviving…

Years back when I got married to a Journo work-based in Ahmedabad, least was known that behind all the glitz and glamour of this history draped city, life would be arduous in the western wing of the country. North-east’s Shillong glistened every next hour after fresh downpour. That was the place I was born& brought up in. Temperature not shooting up over 18 degrees( that was long back, I am told!)! The handbag has to be loaded with umbrella, raincoat.

This was our 2nd visit after seven no moisture years. The outside temperature was 46 degrees as we were all set to escape to the east. It was just a while later that bumpy flight reminded us of cloud, rains, thunderstorm. Heat wave had long back frothed away. Flight delayed and we reached Guwahati airport pretty late in terms of North East time. All our happiness to reach Shillong seemed such a dreadful venture. While our co-passengers skirted away much before we actually pinched out the reason. We were left almost helplessly wandering. It was almost 8 p.m and things were darker than black. North east shuts early. Which is why it becomes pretty unnerving to be left marooned in any part of NE. There are options in other cities from Kolkata onwards, if ten vehicle wallahs refuse, there will be ten others to strike a deal to drop you to your destination. It is really different here and we were proven sophistic in believing that things had opened up in NE. Assimilating little gumption, my throat made some crackling sound and that happened to be in Assamese. Trust me, that helped us get going. Soon a young lad approached and in no time we were zoomed out of the departure after a flat one hour ordeal. The fella helped us with a connecting vehicle that would trip us through the hilly turf. And off we were! Half past 3 hour sojourn: the akin, unaltered bumpy-dusty road led us. We snaked our way through smirking at the same old signboards ’work gong on’ just with the ardent hope to reach home at the earliest. Finally we did, but were soon aware of the never acquainted load shedding. Lights went off before we could unload.

Next morn inhaling fresh cold air eyes strolled all over. We perhaps had come of age. Things did not seem as pleasant as it did in so many years to love the place from miles, miles and miles distanced.

Our place has lost the European cloud. The sky is dusty now. The streets so anti-anglicized. And lo! The skull caps, the veils which we never did see during our growing up times are almost everywhere. From selling fishes, eggs, vegetables, qai ( betel leaf combined with areca nut) to darting away on the threadlike Shillong lanes on an SUV. One could now confront feminine frames veiled! Missionary schools introduced salwar-suits as school uniforms! Missed out on noticing School girls from Loreto Convent though. (It was difficult to commute during school hours). Another eye-brow raising observation is that the Assam type one floor houses have been replaced by high rise buildings and flats. One strong tremor and everything reduces to brown.

Next noteworthy transition is, all of a sudden every house now has begun to flaunt more than one four wheeler. Now, a hill station with very narrow lanes is failing to manage traffic congestion. Hours of getting stranded in the town is just another acceptable situation.

Yes, things sported a pretty liberal and unchained look. But where are the denizens? PB was thronged by all kind of people in different plaintive shades, bizarre to an aging Shillongite. Young graduating faces were amiss. Reason: soon after exam results there is a craze among youths to hunt out opportunities outside NE. (Irrefutably no options left, no opportunities built).No doubt development, liberalization is a crunching need to make a town visible. For the first time, seeing the barren hills, the waxed up lands, fashionable hill station draping in not so different attire that was left behind, proper political leadership, people’s movement, proper media reporting, academic lip services were felt a must.

Interestingly, Shillong streets too kept my mind churning. The local taxis/cab which drove us from one corner to another in mere Rs5 (share taxi), now affirmatively nodded only when the drivers had a mood to!!! If you are fortunate enough you could “book” a cab and that remember would charge you tongue-out rent. Just a reminder, the city buses are no longer plying on the streets! They’d be placed well, soon at the Shillong museum. Don’t miss out on that on your next trip!

Since hiring a vehicle to commute within the city was an ordeal, walking was picked up as the best(est) means. And trust me burnt down out the adipose tissues accumulated. In just two weeks my love for the crowded Shillong was nearing tail out. But. It was during a very hasty drive to Mylliem and The Sacred Grove that emotion flung wide open. And then was it recognized that it wasn’t easy enough to fall out of love for my birth place even though it was wearing out of its natural glow. Half an hour drive from the snarled- up slim lanes just let me rekindle my love.

A thought crossed as I sat stretching my ken far and wide all around me, while I sat on the lap of green mattress (read grasses): the sacred grove needs to be left appreciated from a distance &not ventured within. One can do away with commercialization. As we moved towards the skimpily stretched town, prayer was left for its survival.

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We are the selfish lots and nothing pleases us more than responding to our needs.

Sacred grove, Shillong

The need of this moment is summing up. I am for reasons believable not being selfish but considerate. As I sum up, the cerebral hemisphere is knocked upon by truck full of thoughts. Why do we always crave to hold onto whatever we grow up with, why do we fail to appreciate change? How does one justify a positive or a negative change? Yes, change is indispensable but to what extent can we let it expand its tentacles?

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