Saa..

 “Dada duta dangor gakhir saa diok …”, Abhijeet shouts out to Tushar da in Assamese even as he knows that both of them are Bengalis. He sits down at his favourite table in the University canteen to talk to Neha, who is from Bihar and is all curious as to what this protest against the Citizenship Amendment Act is all about. She is not able to understand how the anti-CAA movement in Assam is different from everywhere else in India. The melancholy of the breezy day quite matches the frame of mind Abhijeet is in. As he laments the opening up of long-buried wounds, he cannot but recollect his experience of growing up in Shillong. “Realities for me are different Neha, while I understand the just Assamese right to protect their cultural identity, my opinions are clouded by what I have seen.”

It was Shillong of the 1990s when rock and roll meant rebellion and India was an accident. The locals would proudly exclaim – Khasi by blood, Indian by accident! Abhijeet had had his upbringing in a distinctive Bengali household and as is for most Bengali children from Shillong, the parents want their children to get a life and leave the place. This meant Abhijeet was educated in some of the best educational institutes in the city. His English education and an elitist peer group had shaped an identity that was the epitome of the quintessential Macaulay Putra. He hated being the Bengali he was – never spoke in the language and when he did, ensured that he spoke an anglicized version of it.

As he spoke to Neha – “Dekhiye Neha ji, the nature of the politics in the North-Eastern region is such that, unless one has stayed here for some good time, it is very tough to understand. You see, the Indian state is looked upon as a colonial entity by many in the region, which is why …”. “What are you saying Abhijeet? We are one country, are we not? We are all part of India, are we not?” she interjected Abhijeet, with a perplexed look. Abhijeet, in his calm tone, responded – “It is not so simple Neha Ji ...”

The primordial nature of the politics of Shillong meant that a clear distinction was created between the indigenous and the non-indigenous. Much to the dismay of Abhijeet’s diligent attempts to fit in – there would be these random sleazy comments – “Ei meh Dkhar, kwah liah?”. He had learned to ignore the taunts but somewhere, his pride of being a third-generation resident of the beautiful hill state was always hurt. Growing up in Shillong he could never understand why he had to be ‘the other’. With time though certain things just fell into perspective. In a spat, that Abhijeet had over social media, it was brought to his notice that the Bengalis were indeed an extension of the colonial arm. The anonymous profile which was very lenient with the use of expletives such as ‘boiragoto’ and ‘kala babu’, made it quite clear to Abhijeet that he was the progeny of a people who were brought in by the British to run the offices of the British establishment after the signing of the Treaty of Yandaboo in 1826.

“Well, well, well… Neha Ji, Assam was not part of India for a very long time. While the British were already ruling parts of India directly or indirectly, the state of Assam came under the British umbrella only in the year 1826”. Neha in her agitated tone went on to argue “but how does that matter, Abhijeet, we fought for the Indian independence together. You guys are as much a part of the Indian imagination as much as we are”. Abhijeet, steadily sipping his tea remarked “I guess you should then tell this to the people who have been protesting against your CAA and your attempt to consolidate the Indian imagination on the lines of Hindu nationalism. As far as my Bengali identity is concerned, trust me, this CAA debacle has made it worse for us than it ever was. There used to be a distinction between illegal and legal migrants, now, we just don’t know. In this competitive scouring for resources, I think communal conflict is inescapable.”

Abhijeet had seen his fair share of conflict. He was too young when the 1992 violence against Biharis had happened in Shillong but he definitely knew something was off when everyone in his family would return home before 6 PM in the evening. Visiting relatives and friends was also a before 6 PM affair. Indeed, the five days a week curfew was fun because the school would only be for two days, yet somewhere the restricted movement did make an impression on young Abhijeet. Horror stories of ‘chintai’, a term used for robbing as well as random stabbings and murders did not make things better.

“I don’t have anything to say Abhijeet, it’s like you guys deliberately do not want to integrate to the Indian national imagination”. Neha seemed very agitated as she made the statement. The big glasses of tea were also over. Tushar da had already taken notice of the heated conversation and so when he saw that tea was over – he came over and provided a breather – “aru duta saa di diu?”, nervous energy to him, probably wondering as to why the CAA is being spoken about with such blatant carelessness, especially by a Bengali. While for some, CAA was a topic of loud debate, some preferred to keep their opinions, private, fearing retribution or being simply tagged as the ‘boiragoto’. “Saar logot eta aloo paratha - o - di dibo”, Abhijeet responded to Tushar da. “Hobo, hobo ... di asu Obizit, Madamor karone ki dim?”, “Kuch nahi chahiye Tushar da, aap inko khilaiye” and the moment she said that Abhijeet burst out laughing – “Oh toh you can understand Assamese?”. “Yes, why not, I have been here for three years now and I would have learned the language, it’s just that we can easily get by with Hindi here,” Neha responded. Abhijeet smirked – “Hah, how I wish you stayed in the south of India for some time, you would have really enjoyed it although I do have one question – can I get by speaking in Assamese or Bengali in Patna?” Neha just smiled.

Abhijeet had had a very interesting experience of having done his post-graduate studies and then going on to work for some time in South India but unfortunately, his knowledge of Tamil was only limited to – “Anna Tamil teriyada, only English” and only sometimes when tea was at stake, he would go to the tea shop and say – “Anna oru tea kurunge”. Unlike the Assamese language, Tamil was not as phonetically as close to Bengali after all. Somewhere in his mind, this escape to South India, was a welcome change from a sense of inferiority he faced throughout his life in North-East India. Here, no one knew him and so he could be anyone he wanted to be but like all good things must end, this had to, too. Next was a teaching assignment, he took up in Punjab but could only last there for a year. Punjab, with its beautiful paddy fields, warm people and a rich food culture is an amazing place to be and yet there was this void. The lingering sense of nostalgia of the scenes of untouched greenery in North-East was too overwhelming for him to let go. Up until now, he was not sure what home was but was this the feeling of home that he had been searching for?

“Ok tell me one thing, Abhijeet, why is it that, people who are evidently so right-wing in their ideology seem to be against the CAA, in Assam?” asked Neha. “Haha… Yahi toh na Neha ji, this is why we are from here and evidently, you are not. Sip some tea Neha. Sip some tea.” By now Neha was a little agitated – “Are you telling me or not? This is not a date; I am not enjoying the chase.” Abhijeet with his nonchalant flamboyance – “You’re a heart breaker Neha, I had already started planning the name of our kids.” Neha wasn’t going to let that comment go – “and what did you plan on naming them? Lal Saa and Gakhir Saa? Tum se toh aur kuch ho nahi payega.”

Now that embarrassed Abhijeet – “Neha Ji, ok let me then tell you – you have rightly noted that people who seem to otherwise have a very right-wing ideological leaning, in this case, oppose the CAA which is a flagship project of the right-wing central government and this is in consonance with the stance of the ideological left.” “Exactly that’s what I have been trying to tell you Abhijeet, these scotch drinking savarna socialists are already a joke and then you have your regionalists going around following their lead. Yes, the so-called government at the centre might be the fascist that you people tag them to be but at least they are trying to build a unified national imagination”, Neha with all her passion had made an extremely valid point.

Abhijeet didn’t really know how to react to this even so he wanted to get his point across. He went on - “I understand your concerns Neha but as Ambedkar had pointed out unless there is a will to stay together, you cannot force a collective imagination on a group of people. Whether they are artificial bonds or artificial boundaries they will eventually dissolve. Coming back to the question of CAA, well like I said the regional right is in consonance with the national left – if you really want to understand their stance, you will have to ask them what they feel about the NRC. It might be very interesting for you that while they oppose the CAA, they support the NRC and it is here that they differ with the national left. The regional right does not want any more Bengalis to be legalised as Indian citizens which is why they oppose the CAA but they support the NRC so that they are able to detect illegal immigrants and even if they complete the process, they will always have that sword hanging over people of Bengali origin by way of not accepting the NRC. This is purely about power.”

Neha kept her silence for a moment and then she asked Abhijeet, “Is this why you refrain from speaking in Bengali?” Abhijeet, in his discomfort and trying his best to hide it, “Well, you know Neha ji, even if I wanted to speak in Bengali to fellow Bengalis in this region, they will probably not reciprocate. It’s already an hour and we have already finished two glasses of tea. Since you said that it isn’t a date, I think we should get back to work”. Neha smiled and as her eyes glanced over the half-eaten paratha, she said “yeah sure.”