Burning desires in chaotic times

Parbina Rashid

Bhasha Andolan. Assam Agitation. Insurgency. When a state has to time and again protect its identity, the struggles, the violence and gore do leave their imprint on the collective conscience of its people. It shapes their sensibilities, which often finds an outlet in writing.

Renowned Assamese writers like Arupa Patangia Kalita and Dr Dhrubajyoti Borah have captured the decades of socio-political turmoil in their fictionalised accounts in the most riveting way. Aruni Kashyap may not belong to the generation of Kalita or Borah, but the violence that the era of insurgency brought in has seeped into his writings.

However, when reading the opening story (Skylark Girl) of this anthology, one feels that the author has made a conscious decision to stay away from all that gore in this book. A young woman asks the protagonist, Sanjib, as to why did he prefer revisiting Tejimola, a magical folk tale, rather than writing a story on violence or a topical issue. Sanjib says he bears no burden of expectation and hopes the Assamese readers will be happy to have a distraction from the everyday gun battles and rape stories. With a couple of other stories like Bizi Colony, with a dendrite-sniffing antagonist, or Minnesota Nice, in which a certain Himjyoti tries to adjust in the detached environ of the American society, the belief only gets stronger.

But one is soon proven wrong. The sound of heavy footsteps and loud banging on the door, which still haunts every Assamese, is back. Aruni presents his protagonist, Digonto, who returns from America to visit his village Teteliguri but is shot dead by the Army. The reason: He dares to cross the camp site riding a bicycle and speaks in English when an Army officer asks him to disembark.

Then, there is For the Greater Common Good, which is a tribute to mystic Mayang, the place of black magic, mentioning an Army crackdown in Teteliguri and how the media plays into the hands of the authority when atrocities are unleashed on innocent villagers in the name of flushing out militants. The title story, His Father's Disease, captures a peculiar bond between an Army officer and a village boy who gets sodomised by the former and falls in love with his tormentor. A different shade of Stockholm syndrome.

Whether placed in Guwahati or Teteliguri or Minnesota, his protagonists are endearingly Assamese in their thoughts and actions. Be it Himjyoti pointing out to his flatmate, Mike, that the term ‘South Asian food’ is vague, or writer Sanjib replying to his audience, “This is funny, for no one in Assam would ask me that question -why don’t you write about the violence.” They sound typically Assamese — unassuming, simple and straight.

Flippant they may be in their answers or their sexual exploits (which are aplenty) may come with a rough edge, but the underlying desire to belong, their search for the familiarity of home, are real. That desire sometimes comes through in a simple act like Sanjib filling up his plate with rice, beans and crunchy vegetables after failing to make sense of an array of exotic names, or in a complex relationship between the victim and his tormentor when Anil, a homosexual, finds temporary solace in Army officer Gurmail Singh’s arms.

While Aruni makes that desire a connecting thread for all his 10 stories, he has been liberal enough while experimenting with the treatment of those stories. So liberal that, at times, this anthology seems like a lesson in creative writing. And that would be a good thing, for despite variations, Aruni has been successful in making that connecting thread strong. Strong enough to bind a reader’s interest.