The Fallen Hero

Heroes rise and heroes fall. This piece is for one such hero who has fallen from grace in such a manner that he is now a criminal to scores of people whom he set out to emancipate. I am one of those scores of people. And our criminal is Paresh Baruah.

The recent news of a Bangladeshi court sentencing ULFA’S commander-in-chief Paresh Baruah to death over his involvement in a major smuggling case in 2004, got me thinking as to how a man who was once revered by thousands, is today remembered as perhaps one of the biggest black sheep that Assam has produced post India’s independence. Baruah was awarded the capital punishment along with 13 other people who included Bangladesh’s former ministers. And all this while he is snugged up somewhere away in Myanmar and perhaps dreaming of ruling over an independent Assam through the aegis of a regime a la the Khmer Rouge.

The man was once more respected than feared among the Assamese people, who saw in him their liberator. He gave the disgruntled youth of the land a reason to fight and assert themselves. He and his comrades once started a revolution that fired up the imaginations of the youth of the Assamese nation. But where has it all landed today? Today the newer generation of Assamese wants to forget all that happened about two decades back as a bad dream and move on. A case here being our last Republic Day. Throughout my childhood, Republic Day and Independence Day were seen as days to stay indoors, partly because there was always calls for shutdown by the ULFA and other such groups, and secondly nobody wanted to be blown up by some bomb. But this year, people came out in large numbers all over Assam, enjoyed themselves and dismissed off Paresh Baruah and the ULFA as nothing but trouble mongers. Yes, they still fear ULFA for the bomb blasts that it can carry out from time to time. But yes, they also regard them as traitors.

While some of his comrades were forced to move over to the Indian government’s side some time back, Paresh and his troop of comrades continued to carry the battle from their camps in Myanmar while being aided by Pakistan and China. The ULFA boys had a golden run in Bangladesh for more than a decade. They had camps there, support by the Islamists and parties like the BNP, and had started businesses running into millions which facilitated their campaigns against India. Baruah, under the garb of Zaman Bhai, ran a profitable hotel business there and owned a transport business which is perhaps one of the largest in the country. All that changed with the coming of the Awami League to power when all their work began to be busted one by one. And now this death sentence has come as a final blow to Baruah from Bangladesh.

For year as Baruah and the other ULFA honchos enjoyed the comforts in Bangladesh, embittered young boys and girls, without proper education or employment, were being recruited in Assam to run the organisation’s operations. The decade of 90s was particularly gloomy in this regard. Bomb blasts and violence were a common norm, in which mostly innocent civilians died. The ULFA began its revolution mainly on the issue of driving away foreigners (illegal Bangladeshis) from the land. What they ended up doing was killing poor Biharis and extorting from wealthy Marwaris. And while the Assamese people continued to suffer, the ULFA leaders under Baruah continued to live a wealthy lifestyle in Bangladesh and illegal Bangladeshis continued to prosper in Assam.

Baruah’s family still reportedly lives in Bangladesh. Having reportedly converted to Islam, the family now lives in secrecy under the protection of the Islamists. The Indian government has not been successful in luring them over to the Indian side of the border. Apart from Baruah’s family, the jailed ULFA leader Anup Chetia’s family is also based in Bangladesh currently.

Now what does the future hold for all? Well while the surrendered ULFA faction under Arabinda Rajkhowa is slowly transforming themselves into power breakers in Assam’s politics, ULFA-I (Independent) under Baruah is still carrying on the fight from Myanmar while trying to lure the youth of the state and sneaking in explosives into Guwahati and other parts. While currently, the Bodo militants seem to have stolen ULFA’s thunder in the state, Baruah still remains the biggest factor to instability and chaos in Assam. This new court order is not a good sign for Baruah. With Bhutan closing its doors towards Indian militants in 2003, Bangladesh has also decided to shut the doors on the ULFA. Now Myanmar is their last hope and the Indian government better act fast in this regard. Till definitive steps are taken, men like Baruah will continue their efforts to brainwash the youth and create anarchy in the state.

The ULFA was a revolution that has gone horribly wrong. It was a dream that went sore after top leaders like Baruah transformed themselves from freedom fighters to mercenaries for states like Pakistan and China. I rarely come across a person nowadays who doesn’t curses Baruah and the ULFA for the troubles they put Assam into. They are traitors to the Assamese people. They are traitors to me.

One last advice to Baruah in these tough times. Always keep a gun close to yourself. Shoot yourself before one of us does and rips you apart.

The City of Ghosts

A lot has been written and said about Bhangarh, the legendary ghost town of India. It is supposedly one of the most haunted places in the world. Located in Rajasthan’s Alwar district, it is one of the few destinations in India that adventure lovers and ghost hunters like to visit. I had heard and read a lot about this place and had always wanted to check it out for myself. So finally when I quit my last soul sucking job, I decided to travel and included Bhangarh in my list.

Going to Bhangarh from Delhi is no tough affair. You can take a road trip by either a car or bus; or take a train as I did. While most people make it a two day trip to Bhangarh, it turned out to be just a day long affair for me. Take the Ajmer Shatabdi early morning at 5:45 am from New Delhi and you will reach Alwar town in a couple of hours. From there you can take a local taxi upto Bhangarh. Now a taxi is the best option from Alwar as there is no bus service till Bhangarh. Buses run to Bhangarh’s neighbouring village of Ajabgarh, but from there onwards you have to be on your own. It’s an over two hours ride from Alwar to Bhangarh via taxi as the roads are quite rough in certain places. But the journey is also a major highlight of the entire trip as you pass by some really interesting spots.

First obviously while traveling through Alwar you notice the famous city fort which would rather take an entire day to cover up. So I had to skip that one. Then, while going out of Alwar in the outskirts, is the beautiful Silliped Lake, which is really a peaceful spot given the majestic rugged Aravallis on its backdrop. Then we arrive at Natani Ka Bada. This is a picturesque spot on the way which is literally a small valley between two hills and a small stream flowing in between. Legend has it that a female acrobat (Natani) had died while trying to cross the lake on a tightrope and so a temple is built on the side of the stream in her honour. Another noteworthy point is that the stream is filled with tortoises, some of which are pretty large. It is quite a sight, trust me.

Deers and wild boars at the Sariska Park periphery area on the way to Bhangarh.

One of the major highlights of the journey is that you pass by the peripheral area of the Sariska Tiger Reserve. You don’t get to see tigers, but you get to quite a lot of monkeys, peacocks and also deers and wild boars on the way. They all make interesting sights as you pass by. The two hour ride may get tedious at some points but then again the entire landscape is dotted by the Aravallis and so you get some of the most magnificent sights that the mountain range can offer. The landscape is dotted by numerous small villages at intervals and also small abandoned forts which belonged to erstwhile landlords.

Though it is no desert country here, the landscape is all rugged terrain and beautiful rocky mountains as you pass by small villages on your way. The area is dominated mostly by people from the Gujjar, Meena and Meo Muslim communities. My taxi driver, Fakhruddin, himself a Meo, was a jolly fellow who happily explained to me all the important spots as we passed by. For him, the most important fact is that the SRK-Salman starrer Karan Arjun was shot extensively at several places in the area and we passed by many spots which served as locations for the film.

The weather was quite hot inspite of the fact that I had made the trip in December and soon I fell asleep in the car. My driver woke me up as we reached Ajabgarh, which is the nearest village to Bhangarh. As we passed by the village, I noticed that were ramparts of an old fort surrounding the village and there was an old gateway on the main village road. Ajabgarh was formerly a small kingdom during the Mughal era and had a role in the history of Bhangarh. We shall come to that later.

We had started from Alwar at around 9:30 am in the morning and we finally reached Bhangarh at around 12:00 in the noon. As our car neared the main gate of the fort, I realised that the last human settlement was atleast a kilometer away from the place. Such was the terror of the place among the locals that nobody wanted to be near it in any manner. The area outside the fort walls in dotted with small chatris or such monuments, reminding you of the fact that you are standing right outside an old piece of history. Entry is free and so as I passed the main gate into the city of Bhangarh quite eagerly.

Visitors make their way through the main market area of Bhangarh.

Before reaching the main palace complex of the city, you pass through the main market area of the city. Stone structures which earlier comprised the main market dot a large area upto the main palace complex gates. Many of them are standing structures while the rest are plain debris. One interesting point is that none of the structures in the main market have roofs. Legend has it that a curse forbids the structures here from having roofs and so there are none. A main road in between the market leads to the main palace complex as you walk past the structures admiring the lonely beauty that is scattered around the place. I also realized that there is no lighting arrangement at the entire place, which means that after evening, the place would be pitch dark and really creepy.

As you enter the main palace complex, you are greeted by a beautiful garden which is really well maintained by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI). The first building that greets you is a Gopinath Temple dedicated to Lord Krishna. There is also another temple dedicated to Lord Shiva and a small tank near it that gets its water supply from a stream which flows from the nearby hill. Visitors were already there roaming in the garden and exploring the structures that were scattered around. Most of them were couples and lovebirds, whom I found peacefully hidden behind rocks and pillars as I explored the place. The temples are built in classic Rajput architecture style and have the same ornamental beauty that are found in the structures of the Chittorgarh fort. The city is surrounded on one side by hills from the Aravalli range and is wide open with fields lying on the other way. Hordes of Langurs and monkeys roam around in the area with care abandon. You really have no reason to fear them at all.

Bhangarh was built by Raja Bhagwan Das of Amer in the 16^th century. Later, Raja Madho Singh, brother of the famous Raja Man Singh from Emperor Akbar’s court, made it the capital of his small vassal state that was under Amer.

The main gates leading to the palace building.

After passing the garden, I made way to the main palace building for which I crossed the main palace entrance gate and then climbed the steps to the palace as it is built on the slopes of a hill. A beautiful structure lying desolate for so many centuries, one look at it and you can’t help but admire its beauty. But then suddenly you also remember that this is supposedly one of the most spookiest places of the world. I climbed up the stairs to the main palace and passed by a few women who were brooming the path. As I entered the main corridor I realized that I was the only person inside the palace at that very moment, as the rest of the visitors were out in the garden. I passed by a few dark corridors and realized that most of the passages and ways to the interiors of the palace have been blocked. What was most amazing was that at a certain spot I found swastika symbols made from vermillion on the wall and the floor beneath was burnt. Somebody had lit a religious sacrificial fire recently. Why? Perhaps to appease the spirits inhabiting the palace. The palace had once been a six-storeyed building but now only four storeys remain as the upper two storeys cease to exist.

The view from the top of the palace building.

I climbed up to the roof of the palace and lo! What a view it gave me of the entire area! I stood there among the debris of the erstwhile top two floors for a long time admiring the beauty of the entire place and imagining what a lovely place it must have used to be. Suddenly a gust of wind struck me from behind which almost threw me off balance. It wasn’t a regular gust of wind. For by then, I had come to realize that the wind blowing within the palace building made a low pitch whistle as they pass by. It sounds really creepy and would scare the hell out of a person who goes there after dark. By then, the remaining visitors had started appearing within the palace building and so I was assured that there should be no ghost making appearances in the broad daylight.

Right to the palace is a large hillock on top of which stands a chatri like structure. The structure is supposedly the living embodiment of the evil that haunts Bhangarh. Now we come to the point as to how Bhangarh came to be a ghost city. Legend has it that Bhangarh was ruled by the beautiful princess Ratnavati. She was very popular among the masses and tales of her beauty were famous in all the kingdoms of Rajputana back then. Her beauty had also caught the fancy of a wicked Tantrik, living at his small Ashram on top of the very hillock, who was well versed in the practice of the occult. Driven by lust, the Tantrik devised a plan to make her fell for him. He sent a bottle of perfume to be mixed in her bath, the scent of which would make her fell in love with him. Now what our villain didn’t know here was that the princess herself well versed in black magic. She got the scent of the plot and threw away the perfume bottle. The bottle then assumed the form of a giant boulder and started rolling towards the Tantrik. Knowing that his end was approaching, the Tantrik quickly cursed the entire city and its inhabitants that nobody would be able to be reborn after dying there and their souls would be trapped there forever. The boulder ultimately killed him. Soon afterwards, Bhangarh got into a quarrel with the neighbouring kingdom of Ajabgarh and was badly defeated in the ensuing battle. The city was ransacked and the local population was massacred. And ever since then, Bhangarh has remained a desolate place.

The corridors in the palace building.

Though the ASI started reviving the place during the 1950s, its fame as a haunted spot was well known in the entire region. Nobody is allowed to remain after dark and the gates of the city are locked up after 6 pm. The main ASI office for the place is located about a kilometer away and a few guards remain back inside a Hanuman Temple built near the outermost gate and they never venture out till the break of dawn. While the rest of the city is available to visitors during the day time, the hillock where the Tantrik’s chatri is built is always off limits. It is rumoured to be the site of unspeakable evil and there is no proper road or way that can lead a person up to the chatri on the hillock. Reportedly, the orders for the place to be cordoned off after dark was issued years ago after people were found dead inside the palace complex area after they spent a night there.

There have been some shows on TV where they have showed televised footage of the area after dark. I sincerely doubt they are true after my visit to the place. There is also a Karni Mata temple near Bhangarh but we decided not to go there as it is on the other side of the hills and the way around was too messed up. I was done exploring the place by afternoon and so by 4 in the evening, me and my cab driver Fakhruddin began our journey back to Alwar. While going back, right outside Alwar, we stopped at the Bhartri Baba temple which is a highly revered site by the local people there. It is dedicated to a local saint who had his Ashram there and I felt after visiting a haunted place, it was good to bow down before something religious.

I reached Alwar by 6:30 pm in the evening, explored the city a little, tasted its famous Kalakand sweet and finally boarded the next Ajmer Shatabdi to Delhi at 7:30 pm. It was a day well spent.

Now what did I take back from this trip? Do I think that the place is haunted? Well, first of all I made the trip in broad daylight and so didn’t really hope for any ghost spotting. And I don’t think the ASI would allow anyone to stay there after dark. The place is hauntingly beautiful and quite well maintained by the ASI. There were certain parts of the palace that were dark and creepy, and yes, every time the wind passed by, it whispered mysteries into my ears. The place would be definitely scary after dark. But I guess I would not be finding out the truth of the place too soon. Only one thing, this won’t be my only trip to Bhangarh. This place is great for a day long getaway from the humdrum of city life and for people who seek a little adventure now and then.

Atleast I am happy that I made a trip to a place that is on the global ghost map. 

BREAKING REPORT: How Our Netas Stole Christmas!

Thanks to FAKING NEWS for inspiring me for this one.

BREAKING REPORT: It seems the ghost of the upcoming Lok Sabha elections has already begun to haunt our netas and they are desperate to strike a general chord with the public. As per reports that have started to come in, a series of bizarre incidents took place on the evening of Christmas eve (December 24) that involved some of the well-known politicians of the day.

‘Operation Christmas’ was devised by Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi’s PR team who, as per sources, cited it as the ultimate icebreaker to improve his image among Muslim minorities. The plan involved Modi going to a Muslim dominated area in Ahmedabad dressed as Santa Claus on Christmas eve and distributed sweets and gifts to the children there. What seemed as the perfect surprise plan to boost a person’s image soon turned into a nightmare for many other politicos.

An alleged image of Gujarat CM Narendra Modi during a rehearsal before the execution of 'Operation Christmas.' Source confidential.

As per sources within the Gujarat state secretariat, Modi shared his idea with Punjab CM Parkash Singh Badal who too loved it and decided to implement the same with himself too since he thought he would make a natural Santa Claus with his flowing beard. However, it is now being suspected that a mole within the Gujarat CM’s PR team leaked the idea to his Congress adversary Arjun Modhwadiya who decided to hijack the plan since he himself sports a kind of white stubble unlike Modi’s rich snowy harvest on his face.

Leaked information from the IB point out that Modi was to show up at Ahmedabad’s Muslim dominated Juhapura locality at 11:30 pm dressed as Santa Claus in a saffron coloured costume and give surprise visits to the houses while distributing sweets and gifts among the kids there. However, all hell broke loose after Modhwadiya too appeared on the same spot dressed as Santa Claus in a green costume. Sources within the Congress tell us that green was chosen as it was in line with Islamic sensibilities and that the party is pro-Muslim anyway.

Residents of Juhapura soon woke up to see two Santa Clauses hurling abuses at each other while holding sacks on their backs. As people gathered to watch the commotion in the middle of the night, none of them could guess the true identities of the two men because of their Santa Claus makeup. Shamim, a local resident, told our correspondent, “We were confused to find two funnily dressed men so late at night, hurling the choicest abuses on each other and the words were so explicit that the womenfolk had to rush their children back into the houses so that they would not hear them. We thought two drunken rag pickers with their sacks must have got into an argument over the possession of some ware they may have found in the garbage dump. ”

It was only when the two men came to blows that the local people intervened and hurriedly called the police which soon took them away. Reportedly Modi’s close aide Amit Shah had to rush to the police station to identify the two men before they were let off. “This is shameful,” said a BJP volunteer about the incident, “The Congress can stoop down to any level to stop Modiji from reaching out to the masses.” No confirmation has come in as to what happened to the two sacks of sweets and gifts.

While Modi and Modhwadiya battled it out on Christmas eve night in Ahmedabad, Parkash Singh Badal had his own share of misfortune in Amritsar. He reportedly appeared near the Golden Temple dressed as a Santa Claus complete with a red turban and a sackful of chocolates and a bell in hand at about 9 pm. Soon womenfolk and children started complaining of a creepy old men calling out to children with the promises of sweets. The local police unit soon got into action as reports of a child snatcher had been doing the rounds in the city. The police arrived on the spot and soon apprehended the Santa Claus who they stated was calling out to a group of young girls in a rather lewd manner. Before the local Akali Dal leader could rush to the spot, the police personnel started thrashing the Santa Claus disguised Badal after being convinced that he was the wanted child snatcher. As per sources, Badal was immediately rushed to a hospital and is now recuperating from a fractured left leg and bruises on the back.

Badal however was not the only politico to be drawn into the jinxed Christmas outreach plan. Modhwadiya reportedly sent the word about the plan to Congress party president Sonia Gandhi in the national capital New Delhi, who saw it as the perfect opportunity for Rahul Gandhi to reach out to the people and strike an emotional chord. Prime Minister Manmohan Singh was immediately sent off to Connaught Place dressed as a Santa Claus in the same manner as Badal, and was accompanied by Rahul Gandhi who was dressed as a Christmas elf and had a signboard hanging on his shoulders reading, “My late grandmother had always dreamed of this moment!”

Sadly, however the plan failed when after three hours of standing in the cold evening in the inner circle of Connaught Place, no one noticed them even for once. Prime Minister Singh was too numb to speak to anyone as he had no ready script available as to what to say to the passersby. Rahul Gandhi, on his part, was too frightened to approach anyone as it was his first time out on the street incognito without the supervision of Digvijaya Singh and without his usual company of Congress bodyguards around.

A few people even mistook them for two homeless children dressed in Christmas theme and handed them some money. By the end of three hours, they had reportedly collected Rs 118 from the people who mistook them for homeless beggars or volunteers from an orphanage. A dejected Sonia Gandhi has reportedly decided to hand over the collected money to former Delhi CM Sheila Dikshit to rehabilitate her after her recent defeat in the state elections. Congress party insiders have informed us that party general secretary Digvijaya Singh was very dejected that he was not told of this plan as he feels he could have perfected it with his visionary tactics.

Apart from these incidents, a report has come in that BJP volunteers in Ahmedabad had also passed the information to jailed godman Asaram Bapu in Jodhpur, who saw it as a good opportunity to boost his image after the recent controversy of child molestation. A Christmas party was organized in the jail premises and the police personnel  were asked to bring their children to it. But sadly, the evening turned to be a flop show as the godman waited in vain dressed as Santa Claus as no one turned up. A source within the jail authorities informed us that coincidentally, most of the jail personnel including the jailor happen to have young daughters and given Bapu’s recent reputation they were too scared to bring them in. It is being said that almost all of them reported illness for their daughters and children and so all the sweets and gifts went to the jail inmates who gave a tearful group hug to Asaram Bapu.

There are also reports that similar plans were also to be seen from Imam Syed Ahmed Bukhari in Delhi’s Ballimaran area after he got to know of the plan from a Congress insider. But due to some unknown reason the plan was cancelled. While we could not get any comments from the Shahi Imam’s spokespersons, it is being pointed out that Bukhari had apprehensions of slipping into the Santa costume as it may invite sharp criticism from the rest of the Muslim clerical circles.

It seems our politicians may have to think of some other ploy to attract the attention of the masses before the Lok Sabha polls next year, but for now they need to rest and let Christmas pass by peacefully.

DISCLAIMER: This is a pure satire which is on the lines of the great work done by Faking News and I sincerely hope this does not hurt anybody's sentiments. 

P.S. I'm a NaMo fan BTW. 

The Tragedy That Was Kaka...

Frankly speaking, I never used to think of Rajesh Khanna as a good actor as a young boy. Most of his expressions seemed over animated. His dancing looked comical. Those were the romantic movies of Khanna that Doordarshan used to air in the 90s. I was more in sync with the Shammi Kapoor and Dev Anand movies at that young age. I still consider myself a debonair ‘junglee’ will date. Even during my college days, I was unwillingly forced to buy dozens of DVDs of Rajesh Khanna movies everytime I went home during the vacations for my movie buff father, who is till date, a worshipper of Khanna.

A few days back when Khanna finally breathed his last, I was filled by a terrible sadness which I had seriously not expected however. This was because over the last few years, I had come to realize that I had started to admire Rajesh Khanna as a class actor. Although my admiration for him cant be compared with that of my father, I have still become an ardent fan of Khanna in his tragedy avatar.

While most people remember Kaka best for his romantic movies, for me, it will be the tragic roles that made me admire him as an actor. I have never liked any other actor more in dying roles than Khanna. People call Dilip Kumar as the tragedy king of Bollywood. But I give away the honour to Khanna. Let’s just look at it this way. Look at the sort of tragedy that he has portrayed in movies like Anand, Safar, Namak Haram, etc. People remember him best as the dying Anand. For me this film has been the ultimate tearjerker. Khanna portrays tragedy in a way which has been unparalleled in Bollywood. This is something which Dilip Saab never showed in his candy floss romantic tragedies. No offence meant to Dilip Saab or his fans here. I still stand by his version of Devdas above all the SRKs. But what I am trying to say here is tragedy which can really strike a chord with the heart of an average layperson is something which Khanna achieved.

His portrayal as the cancer patient in Safar is another great example of tragedy captured on the silver screen. His deaths in subsequent movies like Andaz and Namak Haram are also examples of his crackling chemistry with death. His brief appearance in Andaz almost stole the show from its lead actor Shammi Kapoor. In Namak Haram, we see a crackling chemistry between Kaka and Amitabh Bachchan, which is seemingly different. Namak Haram is a beautifully tragic film for me. It has friendship gone wrong, a hero falling in the eyes of his followers and above all the last tragic death scene of Khanna as the icing on the cake. Khanna’s chemistry with Bachchan in this film is seemingly different from that of Anand. While Anand’s chemistry bordered on the feelings of mutual bonding and loss, Namak Haram was bordered on confrontation and misunderstanding.

Apart from full scale tragedies, I’m also hooked to another intense film of Khanna and the ravishing Sharmila Tagore, Amar Prem. Though I had become a fan of Kaka with movies like Anand and Safar, it was Amar Prem which made me realize his worth as an actor. I was in college when I watched the film properly for the first time ever and it completely shook me. I remember watching the movie seven times in a row at my home. The intensity, the emotion and the passions which Kaka exudes in the movie is something we will never see another actor portray again. This film also shows his best chemistry with Tagore, with music and lyrics that chill down your very being. Songs like 'Chingari Koi Bhadke' and 'Kuch To Log Kahenge', were gems made ahead of their times questioning every societal norms just as the movie did. Amar Prem, though is a sad film in all aspects, has become an event in my life that I will cherish everytime I watch it.

The day Kaka died, I was sitting in my office when news of his death started flashing on the TV channels. Instantly there was a feeling of loss, but it turned painful when visuals of Amitabh Bachchan visiting Kaka’s house to pay his last tributes to him. It seemed most ironic. Babu Moshai’s Anand had finally died. Anand’s death scene featuring Khanna and Bachchan has been one of the most prolific death scenes in Bollywood history. And now just wondering the twist in irony got me even sadder.

Apart from his tragic movies, Kaka’s personal life has not also been happy and he had issues handling his superstardom and various ups and downs in life. But all said and done, in death, he was given a farewell that was befitting a superstar. Even the skies of Mumbai poured down their tears as his body was taken to the crematorium. It was so heartbreaking to see visuals of his frail body inside the glass case. His stardom had won even in death, as most of the media literally forgot that the country’s Presidential elections were being held the same day.

I would like to end this medley of emotions for Kaka with these lines from one of his immortal melodies-

Kahi door jab din dhal jaye,

Saanjh ki dulhan badan churaye, badan churaye,

Mere khayaalo ke aangan mein,

Koi sapno ke deep jalaye, deep jalaye…

RIP Kaka. Aap ko hum se koi nahi chheen sakta!

Patharughat Revisited

The date was January 28, 1894. On this day, one of the dark chapters of the Assamese history occurred when the Patharughat massacre took place. History is replete with many accounts of unsung heroes and here Patharughat is just another example. The incident where about 140 farmers were massacred by the bullets of the British government is a burning example of the sacrifices that the peasants of the state have made for the love of justice and equality.

Patharughat, which is in Darrang district, has become a symbol of tyranny and oppression where the oppressed and exploited had to go down to the might of imperialist bullets. The British, who came to Assam with the treaty of Yandaboo, set about changing the socio-economic patterns of the state which caused remarkable upheavals in the lives of the common people. The people of Darrang had used to enjoy various rebates and exemptions under the Koch and Ahom rulers. This was discontinued by the British regime which went about setting up a new administrative system. Land taxes were revised and the rates were increased to the utter displeasure of the farmers. Land surveys were periodically conducted by the British regime and each time the land tax was arbitrarily increased. This literally broke the back of the farmers. A sense of anger and suspicion rose among the general people against the British. A final expression of the discontent was put forward by the people when they unanimously decided to resist these tax increases at the office of the Tehsildar of Patharughat.

In 1868, seven years after the Phulguri Uprising of Nogaon, a huge public of thousands gathered at the Tehsildar’s office in Patharughat to express their grievances. Fearing violence, a huge force under A.C. Comber, the Deputy Commissioner of Darrang was dispatched from Tezpur to control the crowd. When the authorities refused to pay any heed to the grievances of the people, the huge crowd got infuriated and proceeded to set fire to the Dak Bungalow which was housing the Britishers. Scuffle with the police forces followed which further infuriated the crowd. But the situation was controlled by the leaders as they did not want any sort of violence to happen. This was followed by twenty five incident free years, and the Britishers thought that the tides of discontent had settled down. They were wrong.

When in 1893, the Chief Commissioner of Assam, Wilkinson Ward, tried to raise the taxes, the flares of revolt sprang up again. A huge Raijmel (public meeting) was organized at Patharughat on January 26, 1894, where it was decided that taxes would not be paid till an acceptable solution was reached for the tax problem. The Tehsildar Bhabani Charan Bhattacharya requested the crowd to wait till January 28, when the Deputy Commissioner of Darrang, Anderson, would be available for proper hearings. Meanwhile the news of the Patharughat Raijmel reached the ears of the high authorities who decided that Anderson would be accompanied by Darrang’s SP, Barrington, and the SDO of Mangaldoi, Ramson, and a huge armed force.

January 28 was a normal weekly market day. People had began to throng to the open field in front of the Dak Bungalow and by noon a crowd of about a thousand had gathered there. At noon, the trio of White Sahibs entered the field along with their armed guards and was greeted by slogans. The Tehsildar and his staff waited outside being reduced to silent onlookers of the incident. When Anderson blatantly refused to lower the taxes saying that they did not have the authority to change the taxes raised by the Queen of England, the crowd got infuriated. As the White Sahibs made way to the Dak Bungalow, the crowd lost patience and proceeded towards them in total anger. Angry shouts and protests were raised in the air but to no avail. Arguments and counter arguments were made but the situation got hotter by every passing minute. Finally as the crowd proceeded, they were blocked by the security personals from doing so which resulted in a skirmish. As the scuffle began to get out of hand, Barrington ordered his forces to lathi charge. This made the crowd go wild with anger and they started to hit back at the forces with whatever tools, clods or sticks they had. A Thoga Baidya of Biahpara or Fukolu Sheikh of Athiabari managed to hit the head of the Police Superintendent and wounded him. This enraged the DC and he ordered for firing. Triggers were pressed and the people who were in the front of the crowd fell down in minutes. But this did not deter the people in the behind and they continued marching forward. The people fearlessly took the bullets into their chests and fell down to their martyrdom.

As the rounds of bullets continued to come, the peasants fell down. While some died on the spot, others were seriously injured with their heads cracked, bellies burst, hands and limbs torn apart and blood stained bodies lying everywhere. The dead bodies were not even aloud to be attended to leaving them to be devoured by dogs and vultures. Nobody then knew how many had died and the number of bodies that were rotting away. Finally the bullets did manage to disperse a greater portion of the crowd away but a huge damage had been done. Later it came out in the limelight that about 140 people had been killed and more than 150 had been injured.

This incident is a watermark in the history of peasant uprisings in India. Patharughat’s significance after all these years lies in the fact that though the oppressors have gone away, the conditions of our peasants still remain deplorable. It is still noteworthy that in a country where farmers have made considerable contributions to the freedom struggle, they are still subjected to injustice and hardships of all kinds. If their lands are taken away for some constructive purpose by the government then the required compensation is not paid. Or even today many of them commit suicide due to the burdens of debt and penury. And all this constantly reminds as to whether the blood of the peasant martyrs of many Patharughats have gone wasted in the hope of a better future. More than 100 years have passed since the Patharughat massacre. But the farmers of this nation still continue to lead a dissatisfied life.

Sadly, today Patharughat has remained as one of the many incidents that have got lost in oblivion among the pages of history. This glorious incident of martyrdom is hardly remembered by many people or even finds proper mention in any history textbook. Patharughat’s tragedy lies in the fact that the people of Assam do not remember them properly leave alone the Indian nation. And this is in stark contrast to the Jallianwalla Bagh massacre of 1919 in Punjab which received huge publicity. The memory of these martyrs must remain forever in the hearts of the people and just erecting a martyrs’ monument is just not enough for the proper honour for these heroes.

Let us all remember the martyrs of Patharughat and strive to make sure that no farmer ever faces any injustice in our free democracy.

The Martyr Of Love

I remember reading about Sarmad back when I was in college among the many books on Sufi culture and saints. There he was mentioned as one of the most influential Sufi saints of Delhi from the Mughal era. But what interested me the most was the fact that somewhere it was mentioned about him being a homosexual. A Muslim saint being a homosexual was interesting enough for me. But sadly, I could not find much information about him back then.

My search for Sarmad’s story made me pose various questions to many of my Muslim friends, who either knew too little about him or never knew him at all. Most were scandalized with the very thought of a Muslim Pir being a gay!

Homosexuality among Sufi saints is nothing new. There have been numerous records of Sufi saints having love affairs with ‘young beardless lads.’ In India, the most well known among them are Shah Hussain from Lahore and Ras Khan from Brindawan. Homosexuality, which is a heinous crime in Islamic Shariat law, was seen by these Sufis as a means to rebel against the strict rules and dogmas of the Ullemas. Most of these Sufis are known as the ‘Malamatiyas’ or the blameworthy who discard the laws of the shariat and show their own liberalized way of achieving union with God. Love, for them, was the ultimate means of achieving this. And here homosexuality acted as no bar for them.

The quest for Sarmad’s story finally took me to his Dargah in Old Delhi. Situated in front of the imposing Jama Masjid near the Meena Bazar, the small monastery largely remains unnoticed by the many visitors who visit the great mosque daily. The monastery, is one where Sarmad shares his resting place beside that of another famous Sufi saint Khwaja Harey Bharey (the evergreen one). Harey Bharey was Sarmad’s preceptor and his tomb was where Sarmad had settled down when he first came to Delhi.

The unique feature of this Dargah acting as a dual shrine for Sarmad and Harey Bharey is the colour of the wall which is green on Harey Bharey’s side and blood red on Sarmad’s side. This is to depict Sarmad’s martyrdom due to which he has been given the title of ‘Shaheed’ or martyr. Red ceramic tiles lined his side of the flooring and red threads hung by his grave which are tied to the railings by devotees hoping for their wishes to be granted. Incense sticks and candles continuously burn on the side while qawwali singers vent out numbers in praise of their Pir as the evening sets in. Sarmad’s story and his eventual martyrdom reflect his rebellion against the shariat and his imposing stand on the simple message of love that he represented.

Sarmad is perhaps the most famous Malamatiya Sufi saint of his time. Very little is known about his early life. Some say that he was an Armenian. While some claim that he was a Jew who later converted to Islam. Sarmad’s life gets a clearer picture from the time he came to India and landed in the port of Thatta in Gujarat along with a band of Sufi saints on a merchant ship. From here onwards, Sarmad’s life took the eventual course for which he is remembered today.

At Thatta in a musical concert, Sarmad happened to see the youthful Abhay Chand, who was the son of a rich Hindu trader. It was love at first sight for Sarmad and Abhay. Abhay Chand’s melodious voice which he rendered at a ghazal pierced the tender heart of Sarmad so much that he never recovered from the feeling of love. Sarmad began to attend the concert daily not caring that the ship on which he came had sailed away. Abhay Chand also responded to his love with equal devotion and soon the two began to live together at Sarmad’s place. Soon gossips started to abound in Thatta about the two men living in unnatural conditions. Soon Abhay Chand’s parents took him away and confined him in his house. The pain of separation was too much for Sarmad who tore of his cloths and began to roam the streets of Thatta in a state of frenzy seeking his beloved Abhay Chand. From that day on, he was to live in a state of total nudity for the rest of his life.

Meanwhile, Abhay Chand’s conditions were no better and at last his parents gave in to their sons wish and let him reunite with Sarmad. But they were ostracized by the people of Thatta and so they moved to Lahore. Here they stayed for thirteen years where Sarmad composed some of his most moving verses on love and God. Abhay Chand would sing these verses in his melodious voice and Sarmad would break into a dance of ecstasy. For Sarmad, his love for Abhay Chand was a means to realizing God, for Sarmad believed that God manifested in all his living beings and so he could not be separated from his beloved. Sarmad’s search for God in all of his creations blurred the lines of caste and creeds drawn by men. This he clearly explains in this beautiful verse:

“Who is the lover, beloved, idol and idol-maker but You?

Who is the beloved of the Kaaba, the temple and the mosque?

Come to the garden and see the unity in the array of colours.

In all of this, who is the lover, the beloved, the flower and the thorn?”

From Lahore, the couple migrated to Golcunda in south from where, after a few years, they migrated to Agra in the north. In 1657, they came to Delhi and settled down at the Dargah of Khwaja Harey Bharey. Here Sarmad began to have a large following and the whole city of Shahjahanabad would move at his single instruction. Among his followers was Dara Shikoh, the Mughal crown prince and son of Emperor Shah Jahan. After Dara was killed and Aurangzeb usurped the throne, he set about killing all of Dara’s close associates and soon his attention turned towards Sarmad. Sarmad’s popularity disturbed him and he feared Sarmad might someday incite the people to rebel against him.

Once as Aurangzeb went to the Jama Masjid to offer his Friday prayers, he spotted Sarmad sitting in the nude in the street. When he rebuked Sarmad for violating the shariat law by being naked, Sarmad asked him to cover him with a blanket lying nearby. When Aurangzeb picked up the blanket, the story goes that the heads of all the men he had killed during his ascent to the throne rolled out of it. To this, Sarmad said to the Emperor, “Should I hide your sins or my nakedness?” Sarmad’s fearless attitude was too much for Aurangzeb who soon called upon his chief Qazi, Mullah Qawi, and plotted to do away with Sarmad.

Sarmad was dragged to the Qazi’s court where he was accused of defying the shariat by living naked. Sarmad had befitting replies to all of the Qazi’s accusations and this frustrated him even more. To make him relent, the Qazi had Abhay Chand flogged in front of Sarmad. The whip lashed Abhay Chand’s body, but miraculously, the pain was inflicted on Sarmad. Sarmad cried out, “The God who does not let me see my beloved is like an iron cage that smothers the spirit and bruises the heart.” For the Qazi, Islam was a set of stern and inflexible laws. For Sarmad it was nothing but a message of love. The Qazi demanded that Sarmad recite the kalima shahada, the Islamic creed of confession of the faith- “La Ilaha Il Allaha, Muhammad-ur Rasul Allah” (There is no God but Allah, and Muhammad is the messanger of Allah) in order to prove that he was a true Muslim. Sarmad refused to go beyond “La Ilaha” (There is no God) as he had still not found the end of his search for God. This enraged the Qazi who passed a death sentence against him. And so Sarmad was dragged through the streets of Delhi and promptly beheaded.

But as the story goes, he emerged victorious in death. Sarmad picked up his severed head much to the fright of his executioners. He started climbing the stairs of the Jama Masjid, while mocking the Emperor and his false men of God all the while. In death, Sarmad had found God, testifying to the truth of his own understanding of Islam. Just as he was about to enter the mosque, a voice called him out from the grave of Harey Bharey, and asked him to relent as he had reached the end of his journey and had united with God at last. Sarmad turned round and went to Harey Bharey’s tomb. There he was buried by the side of Harey Bharey, where they share a common Dargah today.

And the curse of Sarmad fell on Aurangzeb as the Mughal Empire gradually crumbled in front of his very eyes.

As I left the Dargah of Sarmad Shaheed and reflected on this story, I realized that Sarmad’s homosexuality was not the main fact that made him unique. What was unique about him was that he had dared to understand God in his own way against the established norms, whereby he exhibited the intellect God has bestowed upon mankind. Sarmad had made love the sole motive of his life and he finally achieved God through the means of this. He had just one message for all of us. To see God in all humans around us. For Sarmad, God manifested in the persona of Abhay Chand. For us it can be anybody or anything, whether we are gay or straight. If God is love, then it is all around us. We just have to see it.

Here what has etched in my mind is a verse of Quran which is written on a signboard on the outer wall of the Dargah. It reads, “And call not those who are slain in the way of Allah ‘dead.’ Nay, they are living, only ye perceive not.” I think nothing sums up Sarmad’s life better than this.

(Informations about Sarmad's life and extracts from his poetry have been taken from Yoginder Sikand's book 'Sacred Spaces.')

HOLY BLOOD

17^th December was the tenth day of the month of Moharram on the Islamic calendar. And it was also the day of theTazia procession that Shia Muslims take out every year on that date. This is done to mark the martyrdom of Imam Hussain (Prophet Muhammad’s grandson) in the battle of Karbala by the forces of the second Omayid Caliph Yazid. Tazia is a re-enactment as well as an act of remembrance of the sufferings that Hussain suffered during his martyrdom. It is an act of extreme devotion that seems highly barbaric to most non-Muslims and Sunni Muslims alike. But if one goes to the depths of its meaning and logic, then nothing but respect comes out of one’s heart for these mourners. Although I myself don’t relate much to this bloodshed, I have all the respect for these devotees who show a form of devotion which we ourselves cannot dare to profess.

I had witnessed a Tazia procession when I first came to Delhi six years ago. Obviously it was a nerve-wrecking experience for me then. So when my two photographer friends, Zubair and Jaun, who are Shias, invited me to come along with them for photographing a Tazia procession, I just couldn’t refuse it. I desperately wanted to overcome my demons to fearlessly watch the streams of blood flow away at a Tazia procession. So I picked up my camera and shot off with my friends to the Shia dominated area of Bara Bazar at Kashmere Gate to face my demons again.

Walking through the narrow lanes of Bara Bazar gives you a distinct feel that you are walking in the Ballimaran area of Old Delhi. But once we heard the thumping sound of the Maatam (mourning) from a little distance, I was shaken out of my hangover of the distinctly Sunni dominated Ballimaran. And in no time we were confronted by a crowd of men and women thumping their chests in perfect rhythm to the chants of the mourning. Shouts of “Ya Hassan! Ya Hussain!” roared through the bylanes as the crowd continued with their chest beating. As we waded through the crowd we soon discovered that leading the crowd were a group of bare bodied men covered in blood, who were flagellating themselves with razor sharp blades and knives attached to the chains in their hands. This was the scene I had been dreading for the past six years. And now it was in front of me. My hands began to shake and I feared I may drop down my camera. My friend Zubair, who is from Kashmir, asked me, “Are you ok? It seems like you’ve seen a ghost!” His question almost came as a sarcastic comment for me making me angry for a moment. As if I attend Tazia processions everyday! But I instantly gathered my courage and started clicking away on my shutterbug.

Tazia processions are a bloody affair and it is definitely not for the faint hearted. The first time spectator will definitely get the shock of his life as men flagellate themselves in the most shocking manner possible. Apart from beating themselves up with knives attached to the chains in their hands, these also furiously pinch themselves with knives over their heads making them appear like huge blobs of blood. If one carefully examines the wounds on the bodies of these men, then the reaction will be ghastly! Part of the procession are a shroud symbolizing the body of Imam Hussain and a horse whose head is covered with a shroud of cloth smeared in bloodstains of devotees. It is symbolic of the horse of Hussain when it returned from the battlefield without him.

We followed the procession to the Imam Bada (Shia Mosque) of the area where crowds of women draped in black clothing were waiting over the balconies of the building wailing their hearts out. Here the procession entered into the courtyard of the Imam Bada where the flagellation continued with a new zeal. The women who were overlooking the whole scene from the balconies above us started wailing out even more loudly and the men who were around me started to sob loudly. I could very closely see the ecstasy in the faces of the men who were the centre of attraction as they continued oozing blood out of themselves. It seemed as if they had found peace in the midst of this pain. Some of the old keepers of the mosque kept throwing water at regular intervals to wash away the blood that had covered the white marble floor of the Imam Bada. So blood heavily mixed with water was constantly flowing around our feet most of the time.

Soon the Speaker, who is normally one among the mourners, called over his microphone to start the Maatam (mourning) in a highly emotional voice. The group of men stopped beating themselves and got down on their knees that were soon followed by the entire crowd of men that had gathered in the courtyard of the Imam Bada. Soon the Speaker started reciting the passages where accounts of Hussain’s martyrdom are narrated. As the Speaker continued with his sermon in a voice that seemed it may crack at any moment out of anguish, the people around the courtyard began to wail out loudly as they listened how their beloved Imam Hussain died on the battlefield. The women wailed out madly from the balcony thumping their chests as if Hussain’s body was in front of them. Zubair put his camera into his bag, got down on his knees and joined in the mourning. My other friend who was at another corner of the building could not be seen. I continued taking pictures in the midst of all these wailing and soon realized the fact that I was the only person in the Imam Bada who was not crying then.

Frankly I was feeling out of the place as all around me were weeping inconsolably as the Speaker carried on his sermon in full emotional ecstasy. I stopped taking pictures and closed my eyes and listened carefully to the words of the Speaker. And soon images of the events started forming in my mind as the Speaker recounted the events. Hussain’s sufferings… how he was dealt 17 blows on his neck… how he had a vision of the Prophet Muhammad as he was dying… his sister Zainab’s agony on the news of his death… the death of his son Ali Asghar… his horse returning without its rider from the battlefield… vivid images were forming in my mind as the Imam carried on his sermon and the people around me wailed.

Soon the sermon was over and the Maatam too along with it. I opened my eyes and discovered that the unthinkable had happened. I had tears in my eyes. The mourning had really cast its shadow on me and I had somewhat realized the pain and anguish of the mourners who were around me. I was totally dumbstruck but felt surprisingly relived as I wiped away my tears. Suddenly it all started making sense to me and I realized that there is no reason why I should not respect these mourners. I didn’t really have all the answers to my doubts. But I didn’t want any. I somehow felt at peace.

As we made our way to the main road outside, we washed our hands at a tap on the roadside. I was trying to wash off some blood stains that had somehow got sprinkled on my hands. While I was washing them off, Zubair said, “It’s a good sign. The blood of the Tazia is holy. You’ll do good work now.” I smiled. I somehow believed him.