Blood soaked tears
O Asom, the place of my birth
My love for you… words dare not describe
Today a catastrophe struck deep inside the heart
A human carnage, a psychedelic nightmare occurred
Bathed with the blood of my dear countrymen
Innocent people made lifeless, mutilated and humiliated
In their own land, in their own homes
By enemies of humanity and merchants of death
Whose religion can only be hatred.
Silently the big ol’ Brahmaputra flows
Being the witness to this massacre of innocent lives
The pristine waters of the great river
Attaining a crimson hue
Sullied by the blood of the innocents
Every lonely child waiting… for his parent to come back home
Still oblivious of their lifeless bodies amidst garbled steel
Will ask us questions that won’t have any easy answers
Those familiar lanes and the beauty of my place
Threaded along them were many of my memories
Today burnt in hell’s fire
Moment of madness consigned everything to dust—
As the collage unfolded before me
Highlighting the true self of some inhumans
My legs staggered and my eyes went moist
Thinking inwardly that silence is no longer an option
History will watch us and judge us for our actions
Time for us to join hands and unite
Before the tears run dry
Ol' Man River silently keeps flowin'
It was already twilight when I reached the Sukreshwar Ghat of the Brahmaputra river that flows through the heart of Guwahati. One could see the 4km long Saraighat bridge which connects the North and South Guwahati and Umananda Island (world’s smallest river island)… and dotted along the scenery were numerous small boats carrying dark shadows… resembling people… but faceless, nameless and with a sense of purpose that was perfectly alien to me.
The silent waves of the mighty river were such a sharp contrast to the fury it unleashes in Assam during Monsoon… but I can’t imagine Assam without the Luit criss crossing through the heart of Assam… it has inspired romance, poetry, nationalism, courage and prosperity and is one of the most potent symbols of the Asomiya identity.
I adjusted my new Nikon camera to a distant boat which was swaying in the gentle waves like a paper-boat and just then a few birds flew over the river with such mighty grace that I remained transfixed at them long after they disappeared into the distant sky… everyone returns to their home, to their roots... sooner or later… and we are all blessed to have something called Home. What is a human being without history, without roots we won’t know from where we are coming from and where we are going… this sense of earthiness overwhelmed me and I made a huge effort to detach myself from those thoughts for the moment and concentrate on clicking the fotos.
After clicking fotos to my heart’s content I went to the park on the banks of the Brahmaputra and sat down for a while… in introspection… about our mechanical lives in the Big city… my longing to come back to my home-city… I always felt that I belonged there…
But this time I felt that the sentiment was different… I felt like I don’t belong to that place anymore… or for that matter to another place as well… a guest in my own place perhaps… but as soon as I entered my home… the familiar sights and sounds welcomed me with open arms… and then I felt that I can’t ever ‘unbelong’… it’s there in my life-breath… it’s there in my blood... it's there in my DNA!!
And in the stillness of the night in my room… I brought out my mobile fone and with the stylus in hand (O how I miss my fountain pen!!) I typed a few incoherent lines in the shape of a poem… titled- BEING SIMPLE(still in beta phase)… and then I slept off.. still thinking of the man rowing the small boat and disappearing into the fog...
Posted by
Jagat Jyoti Saikia
In:
Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories...
Winter came down to our home one night
Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,
And we, we were children once again.
~Bill Morgan, Jr.
Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,
And we, we were children once again.
~Bill Morgan, Jr.
As I waited for my Infy bus in the morning I was tingled by a cool gentle breeze. Winter has surely put a foot on nature’s door and waiting for the chance to welcome itself in.
Winter… ah… it always manages to bring such sweet laid back memories from the “Land of the Red River and Blue Hills”. The winter school holidays after the exams… the “chor-police” games in the nearby jungles… the night badminton games in our backyard replete with blazing lights and a motley crowd of country cousins cheering to their heart’s contents.
As we had a huge backyard in our compound we always hosted the ‘community feast’ during the New Year and “Bhogali Bihu”. It was a mélange of traditional Asomiya/Assamesse delicacies like masor tenga (Sour Fish gravy), poniya maangsho (thin gravied meat curry), bengena pura pitika (barbequed Egg-plant), homemade pickles and a host of other lip smacking items which were as much visual treat as for the taste buds. The mirthful time spent in front of fire-logs where we were told so many anecdotes and vignettes of Life will be there in my memory bank forever. And not to forget the sweet potatoes baked in the glowing ambers!! One story I vividly remember after all these years is-- how my dad’s best friend (during the mid-70s) was shot dead by a rickshaw-wallah due to some animosity while he was sitting next to my dad smoking cigarettes.
I remember my Mom knitting sweaters for myself and my 2 brothers (no sister) and the only difference (if any) would be the color of the yarn but the design would invariably remain the same. Maybe that was her way of showing her impartiality!!
I recollect myself sitting in the mid-day Sun after a bath and with the oil-soaked hair and all… I used to like Oranges very much those days and I always counted the number of slices in an orange and more the number of pieces the bigger was my childhood grin!! J
As I grew up I spent some years in Shillong—which being a picturesque hill station always gave me a sense of eternal Winter… the thick jackets, the hot jalebis, the small variety of chilly which always makes your nose to water… and the breeze that blows across one’s face.
I am eagerly waiting for the winter to set it in Bangalore … which will be a break from the sultry climate that Bangalore has witnessed the last few months.
When I visited Bangalore in 2000 I remember wearing a jacket to college in mid August… the weather was so pleasant then… the traffic was less… no malls… no multiplexes… but now things have changes for the better or worse.
Postscript:
1. My Birthday comes the week after New Year Eve and hence my love for winter season may be a bit biased!!
2. But now winters will also mean that I’ve grown one year older than last year!
3. The post title is a quote from the movie ~An Affair to Remember~
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