A tale of two cities

Guwahati

Road renovation in Dehradun

Readers tend to identify a few cities by the names of some authors. My earliest link to this synonymous relationship was a promo of a movie named ‘London Kills Me’. It was a movie made by a writer of Pakistani origin paying tribute to the city he loved. I never saw the movie because at that time, the information provided in the Newsmakers section of The World This Week was our only window to the outside world. But I was hooked by the taxonomy. Being deeply in love with the only city I knew, I was even tempted to name my first script after it – something like Guwahati kills me.

With time, I realized that this tendency of paying tribute to the city you love and recurrent references by various authors has led many of us to identify a city by some famous author, like Orhan Pamuk with Istanbul or Ruskin Bond with Mussoorie /Dehradun etc. I share my love for the city that I call my own with the kindred feelings of these more famous and talented names. Due to circumstances (personal and professional), I had to be away from my first love for the last ten years. And…. Boy, Oh Boy, this city has changed a hell of a lot in these ten years. It’s no longer the mofussil town I had known over the years. All the things we had heard to be the essence of a big city showed their presence in Guwahati. FM radio, multiplexes, pubs, discos became the city’s new craze. That’s cool, no doubt, but with the arrival of this “globalization” thing, a few inherent symbols of identity of the city vanished without a trace.

The familiar smile of the neighborhood, the cricket field in the backyard, the tendency to obeying traffic rules, and that’s not all, the soaring crime rates…… Yes, Guwahati is still the city of my choice, except with many ifs and buts. 

In 2007, I shifted to another city in Northern India, situated at the foothills of the Himalayas that have an uncanny resemblance to the Guwahati of my childhood. (Minus the occasional fear of CRPF/Bomb blast and the nuisance created out of it)

The landscapes, easy going helping nature of the localites, the hybrid facies of Mongoloid and Aryan nature made me forget many times that I was two thousand miles away from home.  Time passed, five years flew by like a whisker, and circumstances kept the ball rolling, so once again I shifted to another city of contrasting nature.

As I was shifting from Dehradun, I noticed trees being chopped off to make way for a big four lane highway. Then, I visited two multiplexes, I saw the mofussil centre of Dehradun, shops near Ghantaghar being recreated with bulldozers (renovated! ). I told myself ---. Here we go seeing another city changing its nature, may be for good may be for.…. So, will it be a repeat telecast of an experience I already had?

Rational Criminal

While surfing through the channels on TV just the other day, I stopped at one channel watching Alfred Hitchcock speaking. I think at that time, he was talking about violence in movies and what society has become. He was referring to violence in real life. At that moment, he was telling a story that could be chillingly true in real life –that a robber with a gun in his hand is telling the victim ‘I am so sorry that I have to do it, but I am helpless and poor. I will not harm you much except for the money.  Please forgive me for what I have done.’ After telling this, the robber takes all the money from the victim, picks up his gun and then shoots him through his heart. Mr. Hitchcock was saying that in “reel” life, he knew it was an irrational plot for a film as the criminal knew what he was doing and was also talking very rationally until he committed that heinous act. But in modern day society, he knew that (It was an interview in the later part of his life) such an incident could not be ruled out.

Since at that time, I was also going through a similar thought process, his example resonated in my mind very strongly. Hitchcock’s premise was very true. Because in modern times, you don’t say what is true, or what you want to say. You only utter what the lawyer has asked you to. I will not give the example of Netahr iKand or AjmalKasab ,as their crimes are beyond the imagination of all (almost!) living humans.But let us take incidents from day to day life experience where we see people doing exactly the opposite of what they are prophesying. Have all of us transmogrified ourselves into the impossible rational criminal as Hitchcock has narrated in his story?

Also read Nilaknatha  ,Meghe Dhaka Tara

Of omens and history

’পাচে ১৬৬৯ শকত আশ্বিত পাচদিন যাঁতে আকাশত নেজলগা তৰা ওলাইছিল, অমঙ্গলসুচক ।’ শ্রীনাথ দুৱাৰা বৰবৰুৱা, তুংখুঙ্গীয়া বুৰঞ্জী। (১৬৬৯ শক =১৭৩৮ খৃস্টাব্দ)

  In 1689 Sak (1783 AD), on 5^th of ashwin a comet appeared in the sky ….predicts bad omen

Srinath Duwarah Barbaruah ….Tunkhungia Buranjee

(A premier historical manuscript of Tunkhungia clad of Ahom dynasty.)

History beckons me and this line from the Tunkhungia Buranjee was a key foundation for genesis of a story.

I have mentioned it many times being borne and brought up in Assamin a dark era has left many scarred memories on our generation. Later on when I developed interest in the history of my native land I was horrified when I saw hundreds of parallel example in every century; all mimicking the unfortunate cascades of events of our troubled time.

I was sad as it meant over last 1000 years we have learnt nothing from our past.

As inter personal /interracial conflicts, hatred and intolerance are the same more or less as in our present time.

If I tell you rebel going out to Burma to cause chaos and death you might say hey you are talking of ULFA/NDFB etc / But sorry I was referring to Badan Barphukan's escape to Burma  which let to three consecutive Burmese attack ,Mass death ,mass migration of indigenous Assamese everywhere (may be one of the reason we find Baruah ,Talukdar ,Kalia in West Bengal ,Tibet and Bangladesh )

If I tell you about few young Turks capturing the Royal throne and selling his motherland to materialistic world, you might be referring it to the rise of AGP after 6 years of unrest .But I was referring to three Moamoria revolt with had many (or few) parallel sense when the revolt started .And after few months of rule the people knew that we are dealing with something worse....

            If I give example of  top bureaucrat fighting with each other I am referring to the differences between Purnanada Buragohian and Badan Bophukan, (Or Kirtichandra and The Parbatiya Phukan with Moyamoria satra or between Sankaria sakt and the followers of Anirudhadeb  etc etc) not what we read in news paper everyday.

            If I discus religious and castist intolerance I am referring to the fight between the satra and the monarch in 17 th century, or  between different community at that time  not what we see in present day situation.

At that time 1738 AD Ahom dynasty was at its pick of grandeur and when looked from outside. But internally everything was gradually ruining. Like fight between the various Knowars eligible for the royal throne, various burocrate, the differences between the Satras and the royal house, intra and inter fractional differences between Satras that were becoming powerful entity at that time.

So the paranoia was infective and later proved to be catastrophic for the Assamese entity as a whole.

We all know history repeats itself until and unless you take measure not to repeat the national mistakes we keep on doing.

Sometime I feel that that comet is still persisting in the sky of Assam...

Metaphorically I feel all the events that followed were marked by that omen.

When I read that line mentioned in the heading:-I knew it well this was an omen people failed to read at those times. There were no rectification of the faults and gradually it lead to destruction of a thousand years pride.

Hope we don’t repeat what our past has thought us over the years. 

May be it’s Dostoevsky.

I don’t remember since when I graduated from comics and superhero books to narrative fiction with a grey sense. And without noticing one day I become master of dark taste when it comes choosing any art form (books, cinema, music, painting etc) for creative inspiration .Now while trying to get rid of all those for some personal reason I did looked back at the genesis of all those taste . May be that attraction was seeded in my formative years.

I was wondering since when?

Or rather who?

I kept thinking who was the first culprit that introduced black literature to me?  

As far as I remember our early childhood heroes were Dem Peha, Supandi, to Tintin Bahadur and all those Chandamama characters. As I was a voracious reader and I finished reading those entire books we had in that charming family book almirah. Gradually there were huge discrepancy between the demand versus supply when it came to reading .One day I came across a dirty thick book upon which it was written ‘Pain is the outcome of sin’-Lord Budhha

We all have to admit –darkness has its own charm .And at those times the unexplored world that is related with sin /sex/ pain/death /drug seemed very appealing .As if you explore those trail you will attain some knowledge that is equivalent to an unexplainable transcendent state of mind.

‘Pain is the outcome of sin’ -The line attracted me.

I started reading the book after few pages I was captivated by the explicit details of the horrendous murder committed by the protagonist, and I kept reading.

I liked (!)  The way writer described his penance and suffering. It was a new thing to my experience.

I thought this is the way in which art should take its turn ….

Now when I look back and someone accuse me of darkness and if I have to deny and project it big I would say ‘it’s not me. May be its Dostoevsky.’   

Short Stories

Links to my short stories that are translated to English and available online:

If interested feel free to click on their name to read:

The Gift (Written 1999,1st Published in Prantik (প্রান্তিক ২০০০),English Translation Kamal Nayan Baruah :,Assam Tribune ,Nov 2009.)
          genre: :fun, comic, simple
Fantasia (Written 2002-2003,1st Published in Sadin (শাৰদীয় সাদিন ২০০৪),English Translation Uddip Talukdar :,melange ;The Sentinel ,Nov 2010.,NE Quest 2011 )
          genre: Sci -fi :
The Post modern Short Story (Written 2006,1st Published in Sadin(সাদিন ২০০৬),English Translation :Uddip Talukdar :Indian review ,2011.)
genre: Philosophy ,literature

The Strike :(Written 2007,Published Jatra) 
genre: :True event nostalgia ,youth hood ,experimentation with narrative style

The Journey (Written 2003 ,Published in Etyadii(ইত্যাদি) (Sunday edition Janasadharan (দৈনিক জনসাধৰণ)),Also a part of Natunar Swaralipi (নতুনৰ স্বৰলিপি)A collection of selected Assamese short stories by twenty five young writers edited  by Mr.Pankaj Thakur and Arindom Borkotoky ,2009,Published in Enajori 

An Evening in Paris  (Written 1997 ,A fun story about young minds in school ) e publication in Enajori

About art history fictionalization 3: Surrealism

Topoema:Palm of the traveler by Octavio Paz

André Masson Automatic Drawing.

It was a long traumatic mental journey. The nerve of fictionalizing Impressionism, Dadaism and then Surrealism was weird, bizarre may be uncalled for. But once started I could not hold back.

It was a big challenge as Surrealist works feature the element of surprise, unexpected juxtapositions and an abrupt, illogical, unexpected turn.

That was a trap.

I began to read and while going through few of the surrealist history I got to know about Automatism. I was amazed when I saw André Masson Automatic Drawing.

So I thought may be the surrealism started with Automatism as in his painting (!) all he did was to  let his pen flow freely to express itself ….(and many time ,my pen also directs everything …so actually it’s not me, it is my pen (or the key board) doing all the creative work.

The end product may become something like an encrypted maze or a labyrinth very hard to decipher. After this observation my characters started to see some light inside the zigzag puzzle it was in.

‘Eureka’: One of the characters said who was entrapped inside the topoema’s created many decade ago by Nobel laureate Octavio Paz

That’s why while trying to fictionalize Surrealism, I found out the very core meaning of being myself. While expressing oneself in some ISM can be a prisoner’s experience; handcuffed by limitations of definition, boundaries, time and space.  Meaning of any ‘isms’ we should be free and spontaneous.

So the character tried to break free from the rule.

Let the freedom rule over my pen (or the key board, now days) as these are my only weapon in my fight against the organized cliché.

I flipped through my dairy and found resonating verse I wrote may be 15 years back.

Is read:

Breaking the

Linguistics rule

Holding the pen

Unplanned

If we could build a new scenario,

Undefined Characters, Society,

Avenues, shores, cities, songs and others.

Spontaneous but sovereign;

And without a reason,

Every incident

Every moment,

Everyone,

Every day!

Dismissing mental calculations for ever,

Flowers

Colours

Rivers & clouds.

Whatever, whenever!

Also read DADA, Impressionism 

The Eternal Optimist

 

Photo from net uploaded by Atlaf Majid

Growing up in Assam in gloomy eighties had a toll on our psyche. The otherwise hyperemotional people didn’t have a single positive thing to think about. Already we gained a reputation for our step motherly attitude to humour and laughter; I clearly remember we felt guilty if we were enjoying something.

May be it is not normal to enjoy as everything is going from bad to worse.

All the schools, colleges, streets, shops buses- mostly remained closed.

Unexpected deaths were (still is) daily headlines so were the sense of losing identity prevailing everywhere.  

The effect of surroundings was terrible and on top of everything –the bombardment of negative, egotistic, remunerated news.

Conflict had no end  but the intolerance were at its peak  –among people /language /religion /media house/views ,politicos /students  parents and from left right centre and periphery everyone were against each other.

Those who had the power either betrayed or exploited our faith.

The situations lead to an era of darkness.

What we all wanted was little bit positive news. (ভাল খৱৰ, শুভ সংবাদ)

But there weren’t any ……

At that time two greats of contrasting characters came out with similar prayer-.

One was Bhabenndra Nath Saikia ,who accepted the society as it was but never given up and tried to bring changes being a part of the system.He wrote a full length play শুভ সংবাদ meaning Good news for  the moving theater of Assam so that prayer can be herded across the Bramhaputra valley

The other person I am talking about was a different person altogether .A master in his craft and far ahead of any other contemporary in case of the momentum of his thinking. So naturally when it comes to personal feeling about the surrounding; he was very cynical and far more frustrated than any one else.

 I have never met him but neither any other person in this universe .As the great craftsman  Sourav Kumar Chaliha lived in complete obscurity .The man whom we have known as the man who knew SKC best Surendra Nath Medhi was by mean less noteworthy  . Though petrified with the moronic behavior of natives it doesn’t mean that they (SKC and him) shy away for their responsibility for the society .Both SKC and Surendra Nath Medhi (the man who knew SKC best) were fierce critique of the all evils without any kind of fear. Be it insurgency (Like on death of journalist Parag Das ,or on issue of insurgencies ), or intellectual vacuum in the valley both of them came out with article/stories that can open the window of knowledge .  

Two decades ago may be still not old enough to wake up with a hangover on New Year’s dawn ; I was enjoying the sunshine with news paper in one hand and morning cup of tea on another. As a new kid on the block we had upbeat dream but due to the situation we couldn’t think out of out of that sense of nihilism.

The news paper had a front page news article –Good news (ভাল খৱৰ) by SKC.

It was neither about negativity nor an optimistic article talking about a utopian tomorrow.

But after reading it I felt better and it made me believe that there can be a better tomorrow while living with the darkness at hand.