I haven’t got my
passport with me.
That is the first
thought that springs into my mind while reading the news restricting the entry
of students from Handique College, Assam in the Taj Mahal premises.
However, reading the
complete news snippet calms my mind to a certain degree because I’ve always
been told that I look like a Bengali, sometimes even a Punjabi and not at all
Mongoloid, which is obviously my saving grace. Such a little tweak of DNA could
save someone so much trouble.
Obviously, whenever I have tried pointing it out
to people that I am not an exception but the North-East is a mixture of many
races, Mongoloid, Aryan, you name it; I have been met with a vehement
opposition based on some forgotten vacation they took ages ago. My entire life
and experiences of twenty three years undoubtedly pale in light of their
culturally savvy vacation.
The next thing I did,
after putting my mind to rest about the passport issue and making a mental note
to carry a map of India whenever I go anywhere that is not a vegetable market,
is to search for the news coverage in other newspapers. Google dismally showed
me two links, The Assam Tribune and E-Pao ( a Manipuri site). (The last time I
checked, Deccan Chronicle and Asian Age had also covered it.) The bile rose up my throat and I bent double
to collect myself.
A physical reaction is
unlike me. Why are my non-mongoloid features protesting against such gross
violation of fundamental rights? But wait, the fundamental right of travelling
anywhere within the country is only for its citizens. And by citizens we mean a
uniform batch of human beings descended from the same race and having the same
features. Huxley’s Brave New World is swimming before my eyes.
A group of students
from Handique Girls College, a seventy five year old institution named after a
noted Assamese philantrophist, travelling from a part of the country unknown
for its freedom fighters like Rani Gaidinliu, Maniram Dewan, Kanaklata Barua,
Mairembam Koireng Singh, to visit a monument built by an invader of glorious
Hindustan for one of his wives who succumbed to death while giving birth to her
fourteenth child. The irony of the situation ceases to escape me.
As one of my friends
pointed out, maybe subtlety is not the need of the hour. Maybe, instead of
having full page newspaper advertisements of brain numbing books, or movie
scripts whichever you prefer, we should have the Indian map, a full page version,
front page, one day for each month. Maybe we can just grill our way into their
heads just like they have been grilling oil from us. Maybe we will just reach a
blank stony surface but it is worth a try. At least the inclusion of north-east
India in the maps might suddenly shock them out of the reverie and make them call
the newspapers offices demanding the removal of such un-nationalistic
propaganda just the way they did for the removal of the Arunachali women from
the Republic Day parade. Maybe they will be patiently explained by the
publishing houses that, unfortunately, their superior Aryan minds failed them
and the north-east has always been a part of India.
Maybe they will reach
out for a cup of premium Assam tea while trying to deal with this life-changing
piece of information.
The ignorance, however,
is not one sided. News glorifying a district in Kerala as the country’s First
dowry free zone when the north-east itself has been prominently dowry free adds
hurt to the humiliation. Bride-burning, dowry, female infanticides are relatively
unheard phenomena in that part of the country. But all I ever hear when
north-east is brought up is Naxalism. It takes a measure of patience I thought I
wasn’t capable of to explain to people that Naxalism is spreading its roots in
recent times due to the already destabilized atmosphere of the states of
Manipur, Nagaland and Assam primarily. Naxalism, however, was born in
Naxalbari, West Bengal. Again the same tirade of nonsense and ignorance greets
me as I fruitlessly argue. The Indian Prime Minister being asked to request
permission to visit Arunachal Pradesh by the Chinese Premier did not raise as
many eyebrows as Narendra Modi’s fashion choices. The ruthless murder of
Adivasis in Bodoland saw lesser sympathy than the Sydney Siege. The Bangladeshi
illegal migration problem draws slighter attention every year while people are
losing out on livelihoods. And stories of AFSPA and encounter killings are
missing from our mainstream lives while we routinely condemn Sohrabuddin
encounter case.
I am not comparing
tragedies but merely pointing out that tragedies shrouded in dust, ignorance
and darkness pierce hearts and minds in a way that no later consolation can
mend.
In an era when
knowledge is no longer a luxury, I cannot find an excuse for mass ignorance.
And more importantly, I
am not even searching for one.
