For some of us who
are lifelong jugglers, moving from one place to another confront a world if not
hostile a little antagonistic for sure. While mingling with the host community,
most migrants go through some kind of alienation, more or less the similar kind
of otherness.
The resistance can be
from both parties, the host and the migrants or either of them.
Today, retirement from work place settles us.
The young are on a constant move: the migratory birds. Better opportunity,
better life calls the shot. This call brings with it several tests, with few
rewards, sometimes a lot of pain. Most youngsters have learnt to flow with the
stream. Very few, go through self imposed isolation. (On one hand while we like
to believe that we are global citizens, we tightly hold our small little pieces
of perceived identity close to us)
I have been
travelling all along.
During my growing up
days my father being a Govt. employee went through numerous transfers. So we got
to see a lot of the world we had to constantly struggle to make our own. Then
came a time when my father decided upon stationing the family while he toured
around with his transfer orders. We settled in a place I was born in. That
became my native, so did it for the other members. We are a small family of
four. But each one of us was born in different parts of the country. Only I
benefited living in my birth place.
If today I ask my family members to
shift from my birth place (I have a decade back left the place), the simple
straight unanimous chorus would be a loud “NO”. Reasons are too many. Even if that
is not our native, we were migrants. My father happened to be there because of
his uncle, my mother and their two children for him. But the place has grown
within. The local tribe takes away the cake. Educated, soft-spoken, their impromptu smile sets
them apart from the rest of 634 indigenous groups recognized in India. The
English climate too becomes a strong reason.
From the local taxi drivers to the kong (an honorific for the Khasi ladies) selling betel nut, each one of them
would greet you with an easy smile. You might not know the language and they
not yours but the language of smile and the response to a greet melts one. A total
stranger greeting the other from the opposite side would always bear a
response. Such was my birth place.
I am talking about Shillong and its
aborigines.
We have grown up in the sharp divide
between the ‘them’ and the ‘us’. The antagonism between the natives
and the settlers date back far before my father’s birth. Political divide the
powerful reason. We learnt to rest this divide under the carpet. In schools,
colleges, market, locality we spoke about everything but the dissever. In
between though competition of throwing the best banters continued. I personally
never experienced such exchanges nor was I a witness to such splashes. Stories
from friends’ friends, friends’ brothers, drew close a house warm-up evening.
There were positive curfews we grew up
with; positive meant lot of TV watching, cricket playing, catching up with
neighbors, sharing delicious meals, paving secret ways through one’s kitchen
garden to another’s! Most children born and living between1960-2000 grew up
with these positive bandhs and curfews.
There were troubles; there were murders, the usual bloodshed: the natives vs the settlers (mostly Bengalis, Biharis and Nepalis). All who bossed around were the local students’ union. The govt.
invariably gave in to their demands. Deep inside we always wished otherwise for
the sheer disappointment of losing a long vacation. Resistance from the govt.
meant longer strikes, longer breaks from time-tabled studies.
I still recollect how chilling it was
to walk all by myself holding my younger sibling after we were dropped by our
school bus in a deserted city which suddenly went through curfew. Everyone in
the broad day light had reached home, since we studied in an outskirt school
and travelled to a no-outsider zone
Mawlai, invariably travelling out of Mawlai took a long hour and half to reach
home. The sound of my naughty boy shoe still, reverberates.
More than fear it was sheer thrill of
being in command of the situation that made the moment special. On reaching our
locality, some local boys applauded my courage. Felt good, when my parents took
a sigh of relief and said they were in panic of waiting for our safe return.
The local goons had been monitoring each outsider’s
house. Such was the fear of growing up in an acknowledged disturbed region.
It is, I am told a different place now.
Today, in a free world where we move
in& out of our homes at any time, celebrate Indian festivals makes us feel
good. Nightlife was beyond the boundary of imagination in Shillong those days. Days
wrapped up by 6 p.m. By dusk most people deserted the streets. Nights certainly
weren’t fun at all. The TV volume too had to be very low, and we huddled close
to the TV sets. It was only sleeping & studying we managed to do. Childhood
fizzled out under blankets.
But, these are not all. There has been
curfew-free, politically peaceful time when we caught up with our neighbors, friends.
Shillong had all the right elements for making a world-denizen. From discussion
on books to enjoying listening to rock bands, from cultural festivals to All
Souls’ Day procession: we had real quality time. Great academicians to poets,
from Lou Majaw to Writers’ meet : Shillong has always been at the helm of such
activities in spite of the disturbances. We grew up fairly well. Well enough to
face a world geographically, literally known to us.
Standing alone in a place that faces
the Arabian Sea in its west, the being finds it pretty challenging now more
than often to face a crowd who has enjoyed ‘freedom’
to the fullest. All that my birth place nurtured me with most often perspires
through the rough brows of the people I have to be now, a part of. A greet
today is received with remarks like, that’s
not Indian (!). In India we aren’t formal. In India there is no privacy,
etc etc.
Looks like I come from a different planet.
All the niceties I have brought in from my birth place fail me when I am all
out to melt, all out to discover oneness.
It’s nice to hear phrases like ‘a home away from home’, I am out to
discover…
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