Friday, June 13, 2014

Life under the shadows !!

We do not need creative writing, fiction and thrillers but stories which narrate to the coming generation so that they can connect to the past and now what they are. Acute caste system, mistrust, suppression, racial attack and divided India is a symptom of lack of a good narrator and history. One would wonder why 90 % of the mainland India opposed to the removing of AFSPA, the draconian act inherited from the colonial rule of British. The very act initiated the British 200 years ago to suppress the movement of Indian revolution against them and we still have preventive detention act, which allows person to be detained on suspicion for any number of days on the ground colluded between the police and the judicial system. While talking to a friend he just unintentionally told me that Manipur has got a High court, another milestone for your state. I'm always sarcastic when it comes to such favoritism attitude of people towards North East. I said yes, that's a great achievement and it is written with blood in bold letter in our heart that judicial system is finally have a role in state after 67 years of Indian Independence. So does that also imply that India govt, whoever is the party, never thought that we need judicial system, law, equality and basic needs of live. So out of the blue everyone is showing so much of interest in the north east and kashmir, out of the fear of the invasion by the powerful and nuclear weapon enabled neighboring countries, not because the people of the states need the basic rights to be citizen of this country and the basic facility to live in this era. Memory is the only proof of our vulnerable life as a north east in the globalized and soon becoming super power India. Still remember the our group of girls all from Miranda House lining up in the railway station three months before going home. And another horrible journey in the sleeper class of North -East Express and the Brahmaputra mail. The train when it reached to the Bihar and UP takes a different look. One will come with five children and took over our seat and it is a fight we must win till we reach Guwahati for another two days. It never ends our painful journey, we have our neighbouring warrior brothers blocking the only national highway which take us to home all the time and extorting. Sometime, bus conductor used to say hide your valuables we are crossing that jungle, that pass and so on. Remember one such incident that we have having dinner in Khannapada in Assam and bus conductor asked everyone to wind up and board the bus so that we can rush back soon to cross the particular place before midnight and they heard the bus which was gone last night was looted by the militants. We all the girls were sitting in three four rows asked each other how much money you have and we advice each other don't restraint to anyone ask our money, watch and valuables. Such fear and prayers we used to travel home. Those were the time I used to believe in a non-existant God and ask him to make us travel safely till home.

Years had gone by. It is almost 14 years in Delhi now. Memories have faded but still somewhere those painful moments linger on us. But everything remain the same for us. Still so many college goers from Manipur lived with the same painful moments of travelling from Delhi to Imphal. It's our patience, poverty and lack of unity  among us, keeping the India Govt at the happy feet without even acknowledging that we are part of this country. What wonders me is when I heard one of my colleague told me I heard North East people wants to be part of China. When I asked who told you that, she said her husband told her and he is the defense force. And I do not wonder now why the armed forces almost acted on its on people as an enemy and always look at us with suspicion. Life was never easy when you are born in a family with huge population and no one is earning and the house looks just crowded. My memory of home is just crowded and noisy with so many aunties around without a privacy to solitude. Struggling out to come out of that misery of poverty struck family never been easy. Cycling to school with the boys for 20 km every day and again trying to cop up with the heavy books in the midnight. But life was never sad and unhappy for me till today. What I always seek was a good friend and honesty which lighten my journey till today. No doubt, I'm always poured with care and love in every stage of my life. Let it be in school, college, PG and my law college. Sometimes. I used to get jealous of those who are born up in a rich family and their parents used to drop them in the school, tuition but now I felt that it would have made me just a puppet for my parents and without having a scope of using my own brain. Here comes the big difference, especially when some dull literates comment on my Facebook status. So when you are criticizing a particular act of the govt and policy or law then soon you are an anti-Indian. Most of them are worked with me earlier and they are scientist and doctor but their brain is nothing less than that of a donkey following his mater's order. After walking miles, after studying so much if you stood as Modi supporter, Rahul supporter, Didi supporter than you are not less than a donkey. We are still doing the politics of favoritism. I can never support any govt which let us sleep in the roadside tent once when we were a kid. Let them buy nuclear weapon, become the super power, who cares? We have our memory which still remember those horrible days of army rules. Every night after the dinner, we, both sisters follow our grand mother to sleep in the roadside tent in our locality. Every night elders of the locality both men and women would guard the locality as it was fear that combing operation may happen any time. We used to hear the horrors of girls being raped in the operation and boys being picked up from home, never to return again. Gone are the days but we still live with those memories. Whenever I go home, I thought I have lost everything about this home, except those memories of hardship and horrors.  That's how I love and remember my home. Our home looks so beautiful, dear and full of love in comparison to this bullet free developed corporate world. I used to get so much of love, lived so freely, sleep so peacefully without a fear of dyeing among the gun fights and bomb blast. But here every day is a struggle, a war against inhumanity and racial war among each other. I don't know which one is worst but I prefer sleeping in my own bed underneath the bullets than to live with such a dishonesty, mistrust and inhuman society.