LAMCHWA

By Michael Buam

What would you do if someone you love dearly suffers a fatal disease? Pray for a miracle, search for all possible remedies and put everything at stake for the sake of a cure? This is the dilemma that faced all those who loved Lamchwa.

Lamchwa had to shoulder responsibility of his mother and his siblings at an early age owing to the death of his father in a cave-in at a coal mine. By dint of his honesty, grit and hard work, he rescues his family from the grips of poverty. He then falls in love with an amazing and brilliant scholar but is caught in the web of a love triangle. Then, unexpected events shatter his dreams of a perfect world and pushes everyone connected to him in turmoil. Can he overcome the killer disease that threatens his life, his family and his love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Notion Press
• Release date: Sep 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9789384391218

Book preview

LAMCHWA

D. R. Michael Buam

Notion Press

5 Muthu Kalathy Street, Triplicane,

Chennai - 600 005

First Published by Notion Press 2014

Copyright © D. R. Michael Buam 2014

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN: 978-93-84391-21-8

This book has been published in good faith that the work of the author is original. All efforts have been taken to make the material error-free. However, the author and the publisher disclaim the responsibility.

No part of this book may be used, reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents described here are either used fictitiously or are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to any actual persons (living or dead), events, places or locales is purely coincidental.

Author's photograph: David Das (http://davidbromsdas.com)

Cover photo model: Lummy Plain

This book is dedicated to my mother, Sumer Sisilia Buam

and my late father Denis Dkhar.

No words can describe what they mean to me.

Preface

Though the concept of this story was born in 1998-99, it remained churning in my mind for several years because I didn’t get the time to pen it down. It was only in 2006, when I started making digital films in the local languages of Meghalaya, that I began to write this story.

I wrote this story in two languages – in Pnar and English, but I completed the Pnar version first, titled ‘Ŋait o...’ and self published it in Dec 2012, because I had an urgent message to speak about the way coal is mined in Meghalaya and the effects of coal mining on the environment in Jaintia Hills. To convey the message to a larger audience in the state, I had also made a digital film based on the book in Pnar and released it on CDs in June 2013 (Pnar is one of the languages spoken in Jaintia Hills of Meghalaya). This book is not a translation of the Pnar version but is written differently for the English reader.

My work as a biodiversity researcher during 1998-2004 took me to many remote places of North East India, particularly in the villages of Meghalaya and Tripura and it reiterated my belief that traditional medicine was still relevant among the rural masses and even among townsfolk and some city folk especially in the north-eastern part of India. I also came across many gifted traditional healers who could heal many of those whom modern medicine couldn’t. This also contributed to the ideas in this book because during the same time and even now, traditional medicine, which comprises mostly of herbal medicine, was gaining popularity as a complementary form of medicine in the treatment of difficult diseases. The traditional healing in North East India (traditional medicine is practised all over India) is similar to Ayurveda and perhaps as ancient; but while Ayurveda was already codified in ancient texts, our traditional medicine is handed down through oral tradition or by divine revelation. Of course, this is beyond the scope of this book.

Cancer is one of the deadly disease that modern medicine is still trying to come to grips with and is affecting more and more people every day. Through this book I wish to encourage screening for cancer so that many lives can be saved through its early detection.

I welcome readers to send their feedback to me through my website or email and I hope you will enjoy reading the story of Lamchwa.

Wishing you readers a happy and enjoyable reading,

(D. R. Michael Buam)

Acknowledgements

At the very outset, I acknowledge God’s grace for making this dream come true. I am also indebted to my father, (Late) Denis Dkhar and my mother, Sumer Sisilia Buam for igniting in me the desire for knowledge and learning at an early age and for all the sacrifices they had made for our family.

It would be near impossible for me to mention the names of all those who have contributed in the process of writing this book; so, I will mention a few at the risk of offending others.

I put on record the guidance I received from Dr. B. Myrboh, (late) Dr. B. Kharbuli, Dr. H. Kayang, Dr. Donkupar Syiem and Dr. B. S. Khongwir and all my former colleagues at North Eastern Biodiversity Research Cell, NEHU. The experience I gained there helped me in writing this book.

The support and ‘ego massage’ given by friends and relatives has always reaffirmed my faith in myself and goaded me. Thank you Ioannis Thamar, Raphael Warjri, Shalarie Kharpuri, Ruhipaia C. Phawa, Samson Pohthmi, Blassius Buam, S. Quotient Sumer, Riquoma Rq. Laloo, R. Konel Phira and others.

I am also grateful to my wife, Joptimon Dkhar and our children – Deimaya, Joachim, Wametrae and Aamdeeam, for their love, patience and support throughout.

Thank you all. Khublei. Chihajarnguh.

D. R. Michael Buam

Contents

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Preface

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

1

Nature was a silent spectator that day. India was celebrating its 47 th Independence Day and it was a very hot day there on that afternoon of 15 th August 1993. The heat gave no sign of the heavy downpour that had occurred two days ago. Four men were sweating profusely while they carried their baskets loaded with coal and dumped it onto a Shaktiman lorry parked beside the coal dump. Two other men were using shovels to fill empty baskets with coal. They were all daily-wage earners – happy to get some work on a day that was supposed to be a holiday.

The lorry was now half-laden with coal and it would take another hour or more to fill up. The driver of the lorry was seated on the stump of a felled pine tree watching over them disinterestedly. He searched through his pockets for his pack of kwai¹ and his beedi. There was neither a breeze nor the chirping of birds. The only sound that filled the air was that of the ‘sak...sak…’ of the shovels loading coal, the grunts of the men as they lifted their baskets onto their heads and the dull ‘thud’ of the coal as it was dumped into the lorry. The faint sound of a matchstick striking the side of the matchbox could be heard for a fleeting moment.

About a stone’s throw from the coal dump was a rat-hole mine dug on the side of a grassy hillock. A young boy emerged from the small hole, dragging behind him a small wooden cart filled with coal, freshly dug from the mine. He was about 13 years old but looked older by size. His name was Lamchwa but people called him Lam for short. He wore faded clothes and his trousers erre patched up over his bottom. His hands were stained black with coal and mud covered some parts of his head, face and elbows. He unloaded the coal on a pile at a little distance from the hole and walked over to the Lantana shrub under which he had placed his cloth bag. He sat down there and looked briefly towards the direction of the tunnel.

The coal deposits in these hills are distributed sporadically and their seams take the shape of a lens– with the core of the mineral thick in the centre and dwindling in thickness towards the circumference. The thickness and depth of this coal ‘lens’ also varies as frequently as its erratic distribution among the hills, thus, making the coal deposit difficult to map. Yet, the mine owners here do not employ geologists or mining engineers in their coal mining processes. Like the trial and error method, they use the ‘dig and find’ method – dig till they hit a coal seam or until they can’t bear the mining expenses no more, which, sometimes end with digging up more soil and rocks than coal.

His father was still inside the mine digging coal with a pickaxe, a crowbarand a shovel. His father had been working on this mine for several months now. The mine had only one hole for entrance and exit; but inside it, in the centre of the lens-shaped coal seam, were five more tunnels dug in radial directions from the centre of the coal seam. Some parts of it were supported by wooden poles and planks to prevent the earth from caving in.

Usually, there were six of them working the mine, but today, only two of them came to work. The mine belonged to a private individual - as most mines in Jaintia Hills are. The owner had given them a holiday to celebrate Independence Day but Lamchwa’s father said they had nothing to celebrate about and treated it as an ordinary weekday and chose to work instead and brought Lamchwa to join him.

It was lunch time and Lamchwa was waiting for his father so that they could eat together. Lamchwa rummaged through his bag which contained their packed lunch, a water bottle, a small knife and his other assorted belongings. His face brightened as he removed a book from the bag. The book was an English-to-Khasi translation textbook which belonged to his younger brother. His father, though not a learned man but could read and write fairly, had taught him to read and write in his early years. Now, as he read through the last chapter, he was completely oblivious of the men loading coal nearby.

Lamchwa was deeply engrossed in reading and his eyes and face shone brightly at the joy of learning a new word or sentence. He looked peaceful and happy at these moments. He was intelligent and sharp and learnt quickly. He was always eager to learn more. He cried when his parents told him that they could not afford to send him to school. That was eight years ago when there was no school in their village or anywhere nearby. He was, however, glad that his younger brother and sister got an opportunity to study in the village school that was started three years ago by the Village Durbar. He would read from their books and would ask his siblings to explain anything he found hard to understand.

Lamchwa had a strong body; accustomed, as it was, to hard work. He had been following his father to work from the time he was six and gladly helped his father, in his own little way, in whatever work that he did. His father did all sorts of jobs, taking employment from whoever offered it, because they had no land of their own on which to cultivate a farm or raise cattle. On some days they would go cutting and splitting fuel wood for a wage in the jungle and some days they would engage in house construction or work at the mines. When it was the season for planting, they would find employment in the rice fields of their fellow villagers, ploughing the fields with their spades and then sowing the rice later. Similarly, at the time of harvest, they would be engaged for a whole month in reaping and threshing of the rice crops of their villagers.

They never ran out of work because everyone wanted to employ them for some job or the other. This was because of their honesty and hard working nature.

As the years went by, Lamchwa grew under the guidance and patronage of his father to become an independent and skilful worker. He was much mature for his age and was devoted to his parents and siblings. He, now, would look out for jobs all by himself and gave his wages to his mother. He always went to assist his father whenever he was called for.

Today was such an occasion. Lamchwa was already engaged for several weeks in house construction in the village. Yesterday, at breakfast time, his father asked him if he could spare a day to help him in the coal mine as all the other workers would be on holiday the next day. Lamchwa had said, ‘I will have to inform the contractor at work today. I don’t think he will mind my absence for one day.’

So, Lamchwa had come today to help his father in the mine. Though this type of work was done mostly by migrant labourers, Lamchwa’s father took to it, for the wages were based on the number of the crates of coal he could dig and he was paid extra to carry the coal dug from the mine to the surface. It was a backbreaking job because there was no space to stand in those small tunnels and the digging was done using only a pickaxe or a crowbar and a shovel. For light, they used a candle or a small torchlight.After filling the small wooden crate, they had to drag it through the tunnel and dump the coal in a pile outside the mine.

This coal mine they were working on, was nearly depleted of the mineral because his father and the other workers had been digging here for nearly a year now. On the outside, the coal mine looked like an ordinary hillock. Only the presence of coal piles outside and the small tunnel on its side indicated the presence of a coal mine there.

Inside the mine, the diggers had dug through several tunnels which crisscrossed each other at intervals. They had also used wooden poles and planks to support the soil above them to prevent it from caving in on them. It was a risky job and many men and children have died in cave-ins at mines. But work on this mine had been comparatively easier than in a shaft mine, in which case, they would also have to deal with flooding water.

Lamchwa replaced the book and looked again towards the tunnel expecting his father to emerge any moment now. His thoughts wandered to his younger siblings - his brother Marbōd, and his sister Salan. He was happy that their father could send them to the village school. Lamchwa was now imagining their future, what they would be when they grew up and completed their studies. He was determined to work hard for their sake so that he could help his father in providing for their needs.

A rumbling sound from the mine jolted Lamchwa from his reverie. The sound lasted only for a few seconds. Lamchwa rushed in alarm to the mine tunnel and went inside. Flashing his pocket torchlight, he went towards the tunnel that his father was digging and found that it had caved in and was blocked by soil, pebbles, soft rock and coal debris. He clawed through the debris frantically calling out for his father.

‘Pa! Pa! Where are you? Are you there?’

There was no reply to his calls. He looked around for something to dig with and found nothing. He rushed out.

Lamchwa emerged sobbing and called out to the men who were now nearly done loading coal. He ran to them and gestured frantically towards the mine hole with his hands.

‘Daddy! Daddy’s stuck in there! Please help!’

The men seemed to sense the situation and dropped their baskets and rushed to the mine closely at Lamchwa’s heels. The men with the shovels brought them along with them. When they reached the tunnel, Lamchwa led the way with his flashlight on. They site of the cave-in was roomy because it was at the core of the mine where the major portion of the coal was found.

Lamchwa lit his candles to and it illuminated the dim interior. They could see that two of the extreme tunnels were not affected by the cave-in. Those with shovels began to remove the debris from the third tunnel through which lay the mine that Lanchwa’s father was working on. Lamchwa called out to his father again and again but there was no response to his calls.

After a while, one of the men spoke. ‘Now, lad,’ he said to Lamchwa. ‘Don’t you worry and cry about it. Go to the village and get more people with shovels and spades to help us clear this tunnel faster. Inform your mother too. Now, go!’

Lamchwa ran as fast as he could and reached Mōlaiñ, his village, in six minutes. He slowed down as he approached their hut to catch his breath and to think. He didn’t know what to say to his mother.

His mother, Mrs. Rida Lyngdoh, was giving a bath to his younger sister, Salan, on a bamboo platform supported by wooden stilts. The platform was adjacent and on the same level with the floor of the hut which was built on a gentle slope and supported with stone slabs and wooden stilts. The hut was made of wood and bamboo. The roof was covered with overlapping layers of metal sheets, salvaged from empty oil containers.

His mother looked up as she sensed his approach. She was alarmed to see Lamchwa’s wet eyes and sweaty face and chest. Instinctively she asked him.

‘What is the matter, son? Where is your father?’

Lamchwa let loose with an outburst of tears and said between sobs.

‘Bei², the mine at Lōmkseh caved-in! Father is stuck inside the mine!’

His mother was speechless for a few moments. Lamchwa spoke again.

‘There are six men clearing the tunnel now. They have told me to get more men and tools.’

His mother had recovered from her initial shock.

‘You go to the Rāngbāh Chnong’s³ house and request him to mobilize a few men while I go to all our neighbours’ houses to call whoever is available. Don’t come back for me here, I will take them straight to the mine. You lead the Rāngbāh Chnong and the others there. Now, go!’

Lamchwa turned back on his heels and ran towards the Rāngbāh Chnong’s house which was on the eastern part of the village. Twenty-five minutes later, when Lamchwa reached the mine along with the Rāngbāh Chnong and eleven other villagers, a group of men were seen to be standing in a circle on a flat ground a few paces below the tunnel at the mine. His heart leaped and his throat choked at the sight of his mother at the centre of the circle, bending over the body of his father which was laid on the ground over a shawl. He stopped moving and let the others pass him as he stood there, about twenty five paces away, too shocked to react. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked twice. His knees felt very weak. His hands and legs were shaking uncontrollably. But his mother’s renewed wailing brought him to his senses. He could hear his mother mourning out loud.

‘Father of Lam!⁴ Why did you have to leave me now! O God! What have I done to deserve this? Who will wake me up at dawn now? Who will provide for our children now? O God! You had made me an orphan; and now I am a widow! The evil eye has consumed me again and the curse is on me! Woe to me! O God! O God! Why me?’ The Rāngbāh Chnong walked up to her and spoke comforting words saying that the Village will always stand by her at all times. He ordered the men to prepare a stretcher to take the body home. Lamchwa had by now mustered his energies and emotions. He immediately understood that it was now his duty as the eldest son to assume responsibility. He wiped away his tears and with a heavy heart walked up to his mother and led her to the side to comfort her and let the men do the needful. But his mother cried all the more at the sight of him. She continued to lament and Lamchwa let her cry on his shoulders. He felt that it was all he could give her at that moment. He looked up to the heavens for an answer to his mother’s questions, for, he too had none.

The sun was setting as the small procession of nineteen sombre men, a young lad and a sobbing woman walked back to the village. The men took turns to carry the dead body on the makeshift stretcher which was nothing but a shawl tied on its edges to two bamboo poles;the body was covered on top with another shawl.The men would shift the weight from one shoulder to the other as they walked along the narrow path.

As they reached the village, at a quarter to six, the sun had already