POST script 3
MAY 27, 2012
SEVEN SISTERS
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IN an age when most countries rate achievement by the production of material goods, His Majesty taught us that the true measure of success should be our own happiness
sometimes walking several days to explain the governments goals to the people. After officials described their five-year plans, each Bhutanese man, woman and child had the opportunity to offer criticism or suggest changes. In this way, His Majesty ensured that abstract notions of progress actually answered our peoples concerns. As a young Bhutanese professional trying to understand my responsibilities, I found this government-on-theroad refreshing for the way it cut across hierarchy and privilege. Often, in some far flung valley or humble little village, as the royal entourage settled in for the night after a long days deliberations, the last lamp extinguished would be the one in the modest guest house or tent reserved for His Majesty.
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KARMA SINGYE DORJI
On one of these tours to Bhutans largest and poorest district, several demanding issues came up for discussion. His Majesty could easily have told the people they would receive a formal response from his secretariat at a later date. Everyone knew he was maintaining a tight schedule, and no one would have questioned his decision. Instead, he worked on revisions with his ministers and planning officers for the next three days. Finally when he
was satisfied the revised initiatives adequately addressed the peoples concerns, he presented them again. His Majesty the King covered hundreds of kilometers on these tours, stopping to speak with each villager who waited by the road to petition him. The villagers knew that they counted in their kings eyes, that they were as important to the task of nation building as any desk-bound bureaucrat. Those of us who traveled with him were often frustrated by our slow progress. H.M. must surely be tired of this, we thought. This is the umpteenth time hes stopped in the past two hours. But we never saw a glimmer of irritation, never saw him hurry. We knew that no other government could conduct the business of a nation in this patient and authentic way.
these statements may be true, but the world teaches us that this innate power of the people can be subverted by unprincipled politicians and interest groups that steer governments for their own selfish ends. His Majestys unshakeable faith that there is good in the world, that leaders can be positive and selfless, is a tremendous legacy. Not only has he ushered in a brave new age for Bhutan, His Majesty the Fourth Druk Gyalpo has empowered and nurtured a people ready to reap the benefits of peace, liberty, justice and well-being. Stepping into such hallowed shoes should be daunting for any young man. As head of state, one of the first responsibilities of the Fifth King, His Majesty Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck, was to ensure a smooth transition to the new democracy. But no one could be better prepared to shoulder his responsibilities. Oxfordeducated, our fifth king is extremely well-versed in the responsibilities of statecraft, having received personal guidance from his illustrious father. Like his father, His Majesty Jigme Khesar has already covered every district in our rugged land, listening to the people and studying their needs. Proving he shares the same commitment, compassion and concern for the welfare of the people, he made rigorous journeys across the kingdom to educate citizens from all walks of life about our new constitution. The young king also played a central role in helping people understand their rights and responsibilities of participating in the new Bhutanese democracy. While the vision came from the father, the son has been instrumental in shaping and honing the ideas for Bhutans continuing evolution in the new century. The progressive changes in Bhutanese government are, therefore, the shared legacy of two kings. In Bhutan we raise prayer flags to carry our hopes for peace into the world. May the ripening blessings of these two Bhutanese kings take wing on these flags and reach all nations around the world! T
Winner of the 1995 Dag Hammarskjold Award given by the UN Correspondents Association, Karma Singye Dorji has been senior writer for Bhutans national newspaper, Kuensel. This extract and accompanying image is from his book, Dreaming of Prayer Flags: Stories and Images from Bhutan (2008). The impressionistic images in the book are by Sandy Shum.
OTHER WORDS
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ANURAG MAHANTA TRANS: SIBA K GOGOI
arika, Bhaiti Baruah and I, along with several others, had entered Bhutan via the Darrang border for participation in a central general council meeting. During our journey Mama went on talking about Bhutans history, its relations with the Ahom monarchy, and its role in the migration of Tai Mongoloids. Mrinmoy Hazarika chimed in once, Mama, where will we reach beyond the border? The Himalayas. You can join us for a trip there, Mama said, with a mild smile. Despite having a tough time, we laughed. After that journey, we took on our respective responsibilities and fanned out to different camps in Bhutan. As we met from time to time, Mama would say, Nephew, we came here together and will go back to Myanmar together, if the need arises. That, however, didnt happen. The incident on 15 December 2003 turned everything upside down. It was a bitingly cold December morning. Pankhi, Mitali, Ankur, Raja and others, enjoying the warmth of sunshine, had already started playing in the courtyards of the houses. We were also getting ready for the days activities in the camps collecting materials and firewood, pitching tents and doing general exercise. Sergeant Major Mridula Changmai blew the whistle after hoisting our flag in the camp field. The soldiers were preparing to come to the field from the barracks. Just then there was a sound of heavy gunshots in Chukuni Basti, a defence. All were alarmed. Seeking to know the cause of the firing, some of us and I ran to security officer Ajay
Narzary. As soon as we came near him, several bombs went off at the same time, shaking the hills. We were convinced that was the sound of exploding mortar shells. The campdwellers were already running helter-skelter. I instructed Mridula and office in-charge Biman to arm the soldiers with the weapons stored in the office of the commander and then scampered towards Major Bening Rabha. Mortar shells were bursting incessantly. The Bhutanese army started attacking our camps from three sides. They first attempted to destroy our camps with artillery. We didnt have any chance to retaliate because Bhutanese soldiers were bombarding us with mortars from three to four kilometers away. Hundreds of mortars had already fallen on several of our camps. It was not safe to be holed up in the camps. Several soldiers on our side had already been injured. Carrying them, some soldiers went away into the dense forest. While I was rushing towards Major Bening Rabha, I heard two huge sounds behind me. Turning around, I saw the office of the commander was razed. A few steps ahead, I noticed a heartrending sight: Captain Rahul Duttas wife was running in my direction, with her baby in her lap. The blood-smeared hands and legs of the one-and-a-half-yearold infant boy were hanging loose. His father was holding him on his lap. The man is lying in the courtyard. See what has happened to the baby, Baideu sobbed. I took the baby from baideu and pulled her up to the bunker by the house of Major Bening Rabha, where almost all the women and children had already moved into. Major Bening Rabha came running from another direction. Rahul Duttas son has been hit by shells, I said. He examined the baby, and said, Alas, its gone. I had earlier, while taking
LONG tradition of educational excellence, a salubrious climate, and a relaxed pace of life make Shillong a nursery of literary culture. I was a witness to the growth of this culture from the fifties till the late seventies. It was my good fortune to know most of the writers personally. The contact with literary figures happened, less because I was a lecturer at Sankardev College, more because I gave time in the evenings to the bookshop I owned, Ratnas Mascot. Dr Verrier Elwin, a worldrenowned anthropologist and ethnologist, who had donned khadi and worked with Gandhiji during the freedom movement, made Shillong his home. He was an impressive personality, with back-brushed collarlength hair and a perpetual cigar in his mouth. He wrote his autobiography, The Tribal World of Verrier Elwin, in Shillong. EP Gee, renowned for his 1953 discovery of Gees golden langur (Trachypithecus geei), was a member of Wildlife Board of India, along with well-known figures like Salim Ali and M Krishnan. He wrote the authoritative The Wild Life of India during his retirement in Upper Shillong. AL Basham, author of The Wonder That was India, married Catherine Sen (Shadap), who taught history at St. Marys College, Shillong. Basham travelled between Australia, his native country, and Shillong. He was buried in Shillong. Nari Rustomji, former chief secretary, Government of Meghalaya, recorded his experiences in the Northeast in Enchanted Frontiers. JN Chowdury, author of The Tribal Culture and History of Arunachal Pradesh, The Khasi Canvas and Arunachal Panorama: A Study in Profile, would spend time at the Rabindra Library, from 7 pm till 9 pm, after a full day in government office. Everyone knew him as Mukul Chowdhury, not as Jyotindra Nath Chowdhury. JD Baveja served as the director of All India Radio, Shillong for a number of years. A heavy-set man with casually combed hair, he had the look of an artiste. He wrote Across the Golden Heights of Assam and NEFA and The New Horizons of the North East, and collaborated with two others in
writing The Land where the Bamboo Blooms. DD Mali taught economics in the college where I taught English. My evenings in the bookshop taught me that there was a need for a book on the economy of Meghalaya. I persuaded Mali to write such a book; Ratnas Mascot published it. Shortly after the publication of the book, Mali applied for the position of the director of the small-scale industries institute that was being set up. What secured Mali the job was the fact that he had published a book. Mali subsequently wrote books like Economic Problems and Planning in Assam and Small Industry Development in North East India. Radhon Singh Lyngdoh, who went on to become speaker of the Meghalaya Legislative Assembly, was connected from the beginning with the movement for the creation of a separate hill state. He wrote a history of the movement. The manuscript was not published and is presumed lost. Efforts should be made to find out the manuscript and publish it, since it records an important phase of Meghalayas history by a person who was a lecturer in history at St. Anthonys College, Shillong. Chronicles of an Impossible Election by James Michael Lyngdoh gives the reader an insight into the functioning of the Election Commission. Lyngdoh, a winner of the prestigious Magsaysay Award, retired as the Chief Election Commissioner of India. Mona Melwani won the first prize in the non-fiction category, for her entry, Tipu Sultan, in the Competition for Writers of Childrens Books, 1980, organised by Childrens Book Trust. The iconic Nirad C Chaudhuri, who completed a book at the age of 100, has written in some detail about Shillong, a city he was connected with, in The Autobiography of An Unknown Indian. Sanjoy Hazarika, author of Rites of Passage, Strangers in the Mist and Writing on the Wall, needs no introduction. Non-fiction is often the precursor of fiction and poetry. Famous anthropologist Verrier Elwin was a poet too; a collection of 28 of his poems has been recently published by North East Zonal Cultural Centre. Jyoti Jafa, wife of VS
Jafa, an IAS officer, is the author of a historical novel, NurJahan. Since Jyoti Jafa was connected to one of the royal families of Rajasthan, she recreates the Mughal court in the novel in meticulous detail. Shillong is the background for most of the stories in Murli Melwanis collection, Stories of a Salesman. William H Archer, who reviewed it in Books Abroad, wrote, (these)are not stories with complex plots so much as sketches after the manner of Lafcadio Hearn, sharp vignettes of the daily round of East Indian people. In the early sixties, three young men and two women, who had just graduated from college, started a literary magazine, Forward. It carried poems, short stories and articles. Forward died a quiet unannounced death after three issues. Reason: the obvious one, lack of funds. I am tempted to include writers like Mitra Phukan, who went to school or college in Shillong, but I would be straying from my turf, because other cities nurtured their talent. Preetika Venkatakrishnan, in a recent article in Seven Sisters Post, Guwahati, brought the literary narrative of Shillong up to date by focusing on contemporary writers and poets.I would like to add a few names to her list. The story of Ankush Saikias debut novel, Jet City Woman, alternates between New Delhi and Shillong. The short stories in Saikias recent collection, Spotting Veron and Other Stories, move closer to Shillong. RG Lyngdoh, former home minister of Meghalaya, brought out a novel, Who the Cap Fits, that deals with the ethnic tensions in the Shillong of the seventies and eighties. Bikika Laloo Tariang, in her collection of short stories, Dad and The Salesman, presents both sides of the coin; she conveys the ignorance of fellow Indians about the people of the Northeast as well as the prejudices and insecurities of the locals. The literary narrative of Shillong will move forward as more poets, novelists and short story writers draw on a tradition going back to the fifties and build on the groundwork done by the contemporary poets and writers. We look forward to more voices from the the Northeast presenting the unique points of view and sensibilities of seven fascinating cultures. T