NELit review

POST script 3
APRIL 01, 2012

SEVEN SISTERS

A lesbian in the girls hostel

LTHOUGH I could find nothing remarkable among the girls of the University or in the milieu for quite some time after my arrival, soon enough, I did find something to attract my attention in my own hostel One day, walking down the corridor to my room from the dining hall after my morning tea, my eyes fell on a small beautiful name-plate sized signboard at the door of the room to the right of mine. In a beautiful hand was inscribed on it Lesbos, in the vernacular script. Below it, the same word was written in English. At first I could comprehend nothing. Surely it could not be the name of the girl in there. Then, was it the name of the room? Lesbos what did it mean? Many days passed without my knowing its meaning. I did not have any friends either to enlighten me. Among the 2,500-odd students of Gauhati University at that time, I was quite alone. Not having any clue about the meaning of the word, I took to noticing the girl living in the room Soon I discovered her name Sanghamitra Chaliha. Simultaneously, I also discovered something else. I learnt about Sanghamitras shadow-like companion, Anasuya Saikia. When not in class, during study hours and perhaps while sleeping and at all other times, Anasuya Saikia could be seen only with Sanghamitra Chaliha In the morning, I would go to the dining hall for tea. There I would see them taking tea together. I would start for the 10 oclock class. En route, I would see the two going to class together. At twelve, when I came to the canteen for tea, the two were once again sitting side by side facing each other with tea-cups between them. In the hostel at the time of afternoon tea, on evening walks and even at dinnertime in the dining hall, I would always find the two together. And it is not certainly that both were engaged in flippant conversation. Characteristically soft-spoken and reflective, both of them seemed to be ever-engrossed in some quite serious matter Though I went to bed late at night, I never knew when or how the two slept. But when at 10 oclock at night, I went to the bathroom down the corridor, I heard serious conversation emanating from Lesbos in their soft voices. Although their conversations were in low voices, they were never in whispers. So, in going to the bathroom down the corridor at ten at night, or to the class at ten in the morning, or while sitting in the canteen sipping tea in a table near theirs, snatches of their conversation fell on my ears...The cementing force of their friendship happened to be an outlook an ideology about women, life and society which purports to be a kind of radical feminism...

PAGE TURNERS
SONALI ROY RECOMMENDS

Graphics: Sanjoy Seal

iNKPOT
Gobinda Prasad Sarma Trans: Uddipana Goswami Pp 34-42
From the first day I heard such words from Sanghamitra Chaliha, my curiosity about the two increased. It is not because I found something novel in their talks but because I found food for thought in them. Neither was it that I never heard anybody speak of such things before. But such a sincerely nourished view in two constant companions is surely not something that can possibly be overlooked. Of course, it is not that I did or could come any nearer to them despite my increased curiosity for or attraction to them. Their social and family status and the resultant mental make-up were so opposed to mine that despite being in the same year as they, it was not possible for me to be their friend or companion One day, on entering the University Girls Common Room, I saw a notice under Sanghamitra-Anasuyas joint signature. They had established a society called the Lesbian Society among the girls of the University. Every month, on a pre-notified date, its meeting would be held and one such meeting was notified there, where all interested in the subject were invited to attend...On reading Sang-

hamitra Chaliha and Anasuya Saikias notice, I experienced something novel. It was as if I was excited, agitated... I do not know if I had any possible subconscious belief in womankind being suppressed, exploited or dominated by men; but consciously, I had never thought along those lines nor had I felt the need to. It was also not as if I grew to believe their views after becoming aware of their conviction. I merely believed now that their ideas were startling, whether they were based on reality or not. Yet, I could not but go to this meeting. I had often tried to check the books and magazine I saw in their hands while going to the department or sitting in the canteen sipping tea. I saw that most of these were English books and magazines, and were invariably on feminism and Lesbianism... As the day of the meeting drew near, discussions of the two and their meeting also could be heard among the girls of the hostel. Of course, these were tepid and few and far between compared to the discussions triggered off by the ongoing agitation launched by the All Assam Students Union against the foreign nationals issue. Of these shallow, dull discussions, however, one particular dialogue between two girls which I heard one day, shattered my illusion. The professor being absent, a class was cancelled and I had only just settled down with a magazine in the Girls Common Room, when I heard one girl, who was already seated there, say to another: Yes. Yes, Ive heard. But are

you coming? Tell me, why should I go to listen to anything on homosexuality? Or are you eager to be a homosexual like those two? Homosexual? What homosexuality are you speaking about? Why? What then do you think Lesbianism is? Shocked, I looked up from the pages of the magazine. Both the girls were already in the doorway, leaving. I had often seen people recoil to some extent when lesbianism was mentioned. They would refrain from saying anything even if they had something in mind. Now I understood why. But was this actually Lesbianism? Or was it merely a perverted understanding of the term by the Assamese people? Having seen the Lesbos sign on Sanghamitras door, I had looked up the word in the English dictionary. Not finding it in small dictionaries, I had consulted bigger ones. Not satisfied with the definitions they gave, I had turned to English encyclopaedias. When single volume English encyclopedias could not satisfy me, I had browsed through various multi-volume ones in the University library. From what I learnt through these, lesbianism is surely not such a base or narrow concept. In the meantime, I had also learnt a little about the life and poetry of the 7th century BC poet, the learned Sappho, who had taken to living the life of a recluse in Lesbos of ancient Greece along with many other women. Our own Dr. Banikanta Kakati has mentioned in passing about Sapphos life and poetry in his article Nari Hriday (Womens Heart) which is included in his book, Sahitya aru Prem (Literature and Love). On the other hand, I had also studied about the life and poetry of the famous poet of this century, Emily Dickinson, who, being totally alienated from men, had dedicated herself to poetry. And yet

it was Emily Dickinson who wrote: Who have kissed my lips? And when and where I have forgotten (sic) ...And then, what repulsion among the girls regarding this subject! As for me, I began to wait all the more impatiently for the meeting after this. In time, the meeting started. The number of persons present in the hall did not surprise me. Including Sanghamitra and Anasuya, there were only 15 girls in the room. Of course, the two organisers did not expect a mammoth gathering either. The size of the room they had chosen indicated this... I liked Sanghamitra Chalihas speech and the essential philosophical and historical aspect of lesbianism. Sanghamitra Chaliha explained wonderfully lucidly the origin and development of this feminist ideal in Greece, Italy, Germany, France, England and America. She also explained elaborately the chronological development and nature of the womens liberation movements that emerged with this philosophy as the edifice. After this, analysing the status of women in Indian society, Anasuya Saikia explained how lesbianism is required for true and lasting liberation of women in India as in the West. She also said how most educated women in India were today aware of feminism. Quite a few of them were also shaping the movement in India as well. To her, mere feminism could not bring womens liberation in the true sense. Feminism believes that women can bring liberation while living with men. How is it possible? However much a woman is conscious of her right to self-determination, of the overlordship of men in life and society, once she comes under the eclipsing influence of men, she is doomed. All her knowledge about feminism, all her awareness of the unhealthy outcome of male dominance, vanish in the air like bursting bubbles once she comes in association with men. The remedy lies in lesbianism. Stay completely away from men; if you want somebodys society, look for the society of women only. Direct all your attention and energy towards building a society solely of women, with no men around. You will see that true and lasting womens liberation has dawned. ...The speeches of these two especially touched me. That is enough. More than that, I enjoyed the company of the two girls even if it was short-lived. After the speeches, there was the discussion session ...Sanghamitra herself served me tea and sweets smiling, and cordially fussing over my needs. The memory of that meeting lingers till today... The meeting, far from creating any wave or sensation, was not talked about after it was over... T

u What does literature mean to you? Do you think it has any relevance in our day-to-day lives? According to you, does it have anything to do with all that is happening around us? t Literature is like a mirror of our socio-economic environment. We can find the refection of our past , present and future in the pages that capture every expression of ours. It is present in every step we take. It also works as an incubator of radical movements in our society. u How close is your relation with literature in general, and with literature of the Northeast in particular? t I have always been an avid reader. Initially I used to read all I could get my hands. This gave me the ability to judge between different standards of literary works. I took up Comparative Literature in college which gave me a chance to explore the world of literature across different cultures. Northeast literature and eminent personalities have always been a source of inspiration for me. Being a rebel from a very young age, I could identify with the backdrop of Northeast India. Indira Goswami is one of the most influential writers from the region for me. u What future do you see for literature from the Northeast? t Norteast India has a rich literary background with famous writers like Mitra Phukan, Dhruba Hazarika, Easterine Iralu, Temsula Ao, Bhabananda Deka, Mamang Dai, Anjum Hasan, Siddhartha Deb, Indrani Raimedhi and Indira Goswami. It is one of the most advanced areas of India in terms of education. There will be lot of new talents in the coming years and they need to reach out to the world aggressively.

Sonali Roy runs an informal support group, VELVET, for the LGBTQ community, along with her partner Alka Kedwal. She tells Rahul Jain that litterateurs and emminent personalities from Northeast have always been a source of inspiration for her

u What book would you recommend for our readers and why? t As I am exploring contemporary queer literature right now, I would recommend one book that I have come across recently, Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic (2006). It is a graphic memoir by Alison Bechdel. It chronicles the author's childhood and youth in rural Pennsylvania, USA, focusing on her complex relationship with her father. The book is about sexual orientation, gender roles, suicide, dysfunctional family life, and the role of literature in understanding oneself and one's family.

u Name one book that had a lasting impact on you. In what way? t The most important book of my life is Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach. The story of the rise of an outcast learning to cope and survive in the world always helps me to go on and continue my fight.

The Dreamer
Photos: Bitopan Borborah

IS clothes resembled that of a hermit. There were seduction screens everywhere written Biplov Biplov Biplov. He seemed to be a mere seventeen. How could I? His face glistened with all the light in the open space and his teeth, as if in total harmony with his tongue, sticking out pearly white. How could he smile to see my anxious face? Lips were a perfect mix of vermillion and gold-nano-particles, Oh! That bullshit my Chemistry boyfriend of three years always talks about. But I knew it was a dream. I needed to get out. But I couldnt. I had to kiss him. Swallow his spit. Lock the tip of my tongue against his vestibule, the narrow piece of tender muscle connecting the lip and the upper jaw, Oh! He loved it, I knew! But now it was time for me to leave... Biplov...Wake up Biplov, see I have got elaichi tea for you. Oh Viren! Thanks a lot, I realised I was already awake before my dream got over. Viren, my boyfriend, is usually a workaholic. We had met at a party at Kamakazi, near Brahmaputra. He was sitting quietly with his drink and I was eyeing him from far away sitting with a bunch of queens that I regularly met in the Fancy Bazar park while coming from my office. The moment our eyes met we knew we were in love. But things have changed since then.

He doesnt spend much time arranging the linen or the bedcovers. He is glued to his PC until theres a call from the kitchen, to which, like an obedient kitten, he would walk barefoot making no noise and sit quietly on the dining table for the food to be served. On the other hand I am as erratic as any Aquarian. Mornings are always organised for him shirts, ties, socks, handkerchiefs, whereas I would still lay flustered with the seventeen-yearold and wrapped inside his seduction screens. Virens parents had shifted to Bangalore because they couldnt adjust with us. So here we were, left alone in Guwahati. However there was Hari, our gay servant, who would give me all the gossip of the town. How lovelorn young boys wait near Dighalipukhuri to be picked up by some anonymous desperate sugar daddy. He used to tell me about the Fancy Bazar bus stop where a bunch of new queens would patiently hunt their so-called prey and how Illusion in Fancy Bazar had become the new gay melting pot in town. Between all these, he would wash everything from table corners to steel plates and pour water down the filter and occasionally ask about my health, questioning about the Epitril tablets that I took early morning to avoid my panic attacks. I was having this, if not perfect, but normal life with my would-

ipen
GAURAV DEKA
nt-care-less boyfriend and my books, my treasure, until... My thighs were tingling. There were moonlight particles being scattered all over. Powder, powder everywhere....I could feel my fleshy member wet with the smell of some musky odour. I could feel something lingering inside my lower orifice. Was it a snake? I bend my head backward and saw a husk of blue grey hair, a head stuffed inside me, my naked body... Biplov, you are dozing off again. How many times have I told you to keep my watch in place. Why do you always feel sleepy? Its because of that Epitril, I guess! Then stop taking those goddamn tablets! Viren generally doesnt shout at me, but of late he has become very unsteady and frustrating in his character. I dont quite like it, but then again its my fault as well. I was actually desperate to see the seventeen-year-olds face being thrust into my interiors. Am I an infidel? I ask sometimes to myself. But Hari and his clanging plates and his endlesss gossip never let me come to a concrete de-

cision. Now, when one would ask, Cant you think at night? I can say: Sorry, I really cant! Viren sleeps with his back facing me now (no issues at all), and I am, like, too ready to meet my seventeen-year-old lover. He kisses me with deep passion and his eyes, exactly like Virens, shine with all its might. His neck muscles relax and tighten as he makes the pout for me, seducing me to come near. And as I put my hands down his collar with the unbuttoned shirt, I can feel radiance of hair around his nipples that grow stiff when I try to pinch them in ecstasy. We never converse. We always make love. Today I found him a bit older, quite familiar; I thought of it for some time and then the morning bell of the milkman shattered everything. Mincing my fingers as I kept the bowl on the yellow shelf near the filter, I tried to contemplate more on his familiarity (while Viren lay awake with his laptop on the plastic table just beside our bed checking some stock market ups and downs), but couldnt figure it out at all. It was Tuesday night. Viren returned home early. I was busy reading Ayn Rand as Hari answered the call. He took a chance to leave the house at that moment itself and rush to Fancy Bazar. Lets go to BBC. Well, whats that? BBC stands for Brown Bean Cafe. Its a cafe bar plus retro at Uzanbazar. I thought for some time. I thought whether drunkenness would affect my dream? Will I meet the person again after I am drunk? Would the sleep be so deep that I wouldnt even meet him? And then contemplation transformed into physical stiletto steps and after an hour Viren and I were sitting at a corner table

where a Manipuri waiter came to take the orders. We ordered for chicken stewed with peanut sauce and olive chicken, three large pegs of vodka for each and lots of ice. We reached home at around 12:45 am. I was getting hasty and nervous, at not being able to sleep at the stipulated daily time. Viren was looking at me, shocked, as I was trying to pull my blankets without even changing my clothes, that too without taking off my pointed pink shoes. What the hell is wrong with you? I am drunk! thats the only answer I gave and went off to sleep. He took a piece of ice and put it on my navel. It trembled and made swiping moves like Hari does with his broomstick while cleaning the bedroom. Why dont you leave him? he spoke for the first time. There are perhaps no shocks in dreams, and so I nonchalantly answered,I cannot, he is my boyfriend. What am I then? he came closer to my chest, heaving up

and down, naked with two pin-sized suns erecting gradually in impatience. I wept..... Biplov, what happened, Biplov? Why are you crying? You need something? Is it a nightmare? Viren hadnt slept. He was still uploading pics of BBC on Facebook. I nodded gently as tears streamed down my brown skin. Viren brought me a glass of cold water which I had in one go. He then took me on his lap. The other knee balanced his lappy and he stroked my hair gently. He curled his fingers between my silken black hair and tried putting me to sleep. I woke up afresh in the morning. I tried to remember the dream again. He looked a bit more mature. Maybe 24 years or so. His teeth seemed exactly like Viren, but not his voice. Somewhere I was searching for the lost love of Viren. Both of us had had a secret ring ceremony in Kamakhya. We were completely in love, but the chemistry was missing. There was less of sexual interest and at times I had to seduce him to bed with joba flowers which he treated as an aphrodisiac. This was the state of affairs and I was really getting tired because my orgasms werent reaching their peaks. I was searching for the lost chemistry. I tried tantra and tantric sexual texts too, but to all my hard work there were not even a single result. It was not that he was involved with a different man. Oh! I cannot imagine in my wildest dreams that work-crazy boyfriend of mine, but somehow things werent working according to order. There was moonlight powder again. He had thrust his head into my clean shaven chest. He whispered something which sounded muffled, but the voice seemed exactly like Virens. He started licking my balls with spit sticking like

Fevicol to it. I didnt know where his balls were. But then he was giving off a typical Viren-ish smell. He then came over my face and I could see his nose flaring up like Viren does when he is about to sneeze. The sneeze ended and so did the dream. Next day Viren was shaving off his two-month-old beard. I was nagging about it as I do not like facial hair at all. He was smiling, with the background music of George Michael playing and shaving off the entire surface area. I was happy to see him. He got late for office while shaving. I wanted to kiss him and was about to pout my lips and bend forward towards him, but he got up from the bed, took his suitcase away and left, shutting the door. Why dont you kiss me instead of kissing him? I tried to look at his face but all I could see was white light. I struggled a lot. In the process I found his lips entering my vestibule. Smacking all the way, spit splashed here and there. Teeth clenched and tongues rolling in unknown directions inexperienced waves. Just then I saw his eyes. As soon as I did I pushed him off. What I saw made me shudder with fear. It was Viren. Yes I am him and I really love you! he smiled as if in delight. That evening when Viren came from office, the first thing I did was to take away his watch. I had applied a little blusher to make my brown skin glow. I made his favourite pasta and after eating, I lit a candle on the table. Flickering the flame with my index fingers, I asked him: Do you love me, Viren? Viren kept quiet for a moment, and smiling with his teeth in perfect harmony with his tongue sticking out. Tell me Viren, do...? Before I could complete, he said, Yes Biplov, I really do. I said nothing after that. I just held his hand and took him near the bed. I removed the pillows, the bedcovers and, laid down the seduction sheets. T