Knit India Through Literature Volume 2 - The East

By Sivasankari

It was in 1998 that the first of the four volume series of the 'Knit India through Literature project – the volume on the South Indian languages - came out. I certainly did not then feel the fear and trepidation that I do now, as I stand on the threshold of the second volume being published, this one on the East Indian languages.

I have had a lifelong acquaintance with the South Indian languages of Malayalam, Telugu, Kannada and Tamil, through the several trips made to the neighbouring states during school holidays to visit numerous relatives. Hence, I did not feel any discomfort during my trips to Hyderabad, Trivandrum or Bangalore to meet with the various writers I needed to meet for the first volume. On the other hand, the trips that I undertook for my research on the eastern languages left me utterly bewildered most of the time. Apart from the usual problems like an unknown language, an unknown region and unfamiliar food habits, I was faced with many a practical difficulty on account of the work itself. There was the problem of communicating with some writers who could not understand English. Then there was the problem of transcribing the cassettes of the interviews several times on account of the different pronunciations. Worse still were the additional trips I had to undertake to far off places like Darjeeling and Imphal when I found that the interviews had not yielded sufficient material or there were doubts that had to be personally clarified with the writers.

The project was basically accomplished in three phases. The initial spadework involving research on the language, the field work that involved travelling to the homes of the various writers and interviewing them and then the work of transcribing the tapes on my return to Chennai and editing and writing them up. I took the assistance of others only to transcribe the tapes. While my assistants found the job of transcribing the tapes containing the interviews of the South Indian writers easy on account of their familiarity with the languages, they were somewhat challenged when it came to the Eastern language interviews.

As a result of lack of proper communication, the interviews of some important writers have unfortunately been excluded from this volume. Despite sending him two letters, I could not get in touch with the Jnanpith Award-winning Oriya poet Sitakant Mohapatra. I probably had the wrong address and, as a result, the letters possibly never reached him.

In the years that have gone by between my fieldwork in the eastern region and the release of this volume, there have been many changes, many losses. Dr. Birendra Bhattacharya and Dr. Jagat Chhetri, who accorded me such a warm welcome and hospitality in Guwahati and Darjeeling respectively, are no longer with us. Mr. Subhas Mukhopadhyay, who was so encouraging, is today able to communicate with others only with the help of a writing board. Although I grieve these losses, I am happy that I was able to interact with these people when they were at their cheerful best.

All the trials and tribulations that I had to face in the course of this work are of no matter to me now that the book has been published, after systematic and honest research and through the co-operation of all the esteemed writers.

The foreword written by the Jnanpith Award-winning Malayalam writer M.T. Vasudevan Nair is an ornament that serves to embellish this volume. I am thankful to him and all the others who have made this work possible.

My inner soul calls to me at his juncture, cheering me at this halfway mark and encouraging me to proceed undaunted with my efforts to complete this Herculean task. I am confident my inner grit and determination will see me through the tasks of completing the work on the Western and Northern languages shortly.

-Sivasankari.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pustaka Digital Media
• Release date: Mar 24, 2020
• ISBN: 6580501805144

Book preview

http://www.pustaka.co.in

Knit India Through Literature

Volume 2 – THE EAST

Author:

Sivasankari

For more books

http://www.pustaka.co.in/home/author/sivasankari-novels

Digital/Electronic Copyright © by Pustaka Digital Media Pvt. Ltd.

All other copyright © by Author.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Table of Contents

Foreword

Preface – 1

Preface - II

ASSAMESE

TRAVELLING THROUGH ASSAM

B.K. BHATTACHARYA

Interview

MAAKON AND THE GOXAAI

NIRMALPRABHA BARDOLOI

Interview

POEMS

NAVAKANTA BARUA

Interview

POEMS

BHABENDRANATH SAIKIA

Interview

RATS

BANDITA PHUKAN

Interview

TO BELOVED FATHER

Modern Assamese Literature

Bengali

TRAVELLING THROUGH WEST BENGAL

SUBHAS MUKHOPADHYAY

Interview

POEMS

SUNIL GANGOPADHYAY

Interview

THE HEROINE

MAHASVETA DEVI

Interview

DRAUPADI

BIMAL KAR

Interview

SATYADAS

SAMARES MAZUMDAR

Interview

LIKE A MAN

NABARUN BHATTACHARYA

Interview

THE SCARECROW

DIBYENDU PALIT

Interview

THE FACES

Modern Bengali Literature

MANIPUR

TRAVELLING THROUGH MANIPUR

M.K. BINODINI DEVI

Interview

TUNE

E. SONAMANI SINGH

Interview

PUBLISH NOT IN THE PAPER

SRI BIREN

Interview

ESCAPE

E. DINAMANI SINGH

Interview

PEEPUL IN THE AIR

Modern Manipuri Literature

NEPAL

AT THE FOOT OF THE HIMALAYAS...

JAGAT CHHETRI

Interview

PADMA

INDRA BAHADUR RAI

Interview

THE STORM RAGED ALL NIGHT LONG

R.P. LAMA

Interview

LAKHI DEVI SUNDAS

Interview

THE THIRD HOUSE

KEWAL CHANDRA LAMA

Interview

THE SPROUTING

SUBHASH GHISING

Modern Nepali Literature

Oriya

TRAVELLING THROUGH ORISSA

RAMAKANTA RATH

Interview

POEMS

KISHORI CHARAN DAS

Interview

THE VISITOR

PRATIBHA RAY

Interview

THE UNTOUCHABLE GOD

MANOJ DAS

Interview

THE BRIDGE IN THE MOONLIT NIGHT

SANTANU KUMAR ACHARYA

Interview

PLUS AND MINUS GREATER THAN ZERO

MODERN ORIYA LITERATURE

About the Author

Names & addresses of writers interviewed

Foreword

Whenever I am invited to address a gathering of Indian writers, I feel honoured and embarrassed at the same time. To communicate with my audience, I have to depend on a language which is not my own. Further, I cannot comment on Indian writing in general, as my understanding of the literatures of other regions is very limited. The literary works of other areas, which reach me through translations, are few and far between. My colleagues from other languages who participate in such programmes must be having the same problem. Some of us may be able to discuss in detail recent American literary trends or contemporary Latin American fiction, but we are unable to do so with literature next door.

Very few serious attempts have been made in the exchange of major literary works through translations between different languages in the country. There are State institutions like the Sahitya Akademi and the National Book Trust which undertake occasional translation projects. I am not ignoring their contributions. But before the formation of such official bodies, there were individuals in different parts of the country who learnt other languages and translated many works into their own. Almost all the writings of Sarat Chandra, Bankim Chandra, Tagore and Premchand have been translated and published long back in all the regional languages. They were not merely literary works for reading pleasure. There were revealing glimpses of an India and Indian life unfamiliar to other regions.

Now the market and media hype project Indo-Anglian writing as Indian literature. No doubt there are good works in this category; but nobody can ignore the genius of Indian literature reflected in the regional languages of our country. The colonial concept that the multiplicity of languages is a stumbling block in the progress of the country's culture is still endorsed by some, I am sorry to say. Salman Rushdie and Khuswant Singh refuse to acknowledge the writings in the Indian languages over three millennia.

When Rushdie wrote his much-talked about article on '50 years of Indian writing' in the New Yorker, many language writers felt deeply hurt. Not all. We, the language writers, have no reason to feel inferior. We are also very much part of the great tradition set up by the community of writers all over the world. We too have a small but dignified space in the vast heritage map of literature. In spite of the forces that control and manage literary markets, the regional writers have their own trusted readership. They value this mutual trust and love greatly. That is why the Bengali writer Sunil Gangopadhyay could boldly assert: The minute I realise that the readers' response to my writing has decreased even slightly, then I shall stop writing.

National integration is a favourite theme and an ideal for my distinguished Tamil colleague Sivasankari. She believes in the Nehruvian theme of unity in diversity.

Some years ago, when we met in Chennai, she mentioned this project with great enthusiasm. She wanted to underline the assumption of Dr. S. Radhakrishnan that Indian literature is one, though written in different languages.

After reading two volumes (the first volume was devoted to four South Indian languages), I found to my great satisfaction that she was not conditioned to look for the mythical oneness of Indian literature. The interviews with various writers reveal the differences in their styles and substance. They are related to region-specific issues and social realities. An authentic search for the differences also is a step towards the realisation of a harmony. This is what Sivasankari has achieved.

There are 22 languages in this country recognised by the Sahitya Akademi. And there are hitherto marginalised literatures like Bodo and Tulu, gaining the momentum to leap into the recognised mainstream. There are also innumerable dialects screaming for identity.

The colonial power which ruled the country with its mono-lingual and mono religious culture failed to understand the multi-lingual and multi-religious ethos of Indian life. Lord Minto and Lord Macaulay wanted English to function as the sole language of the educated class as they believed that science and literature could not develop in the decadent' languages of India.

The colonisers would not replace our languages. Rather, our languages used the opportunity for modernisation through interaction with English.

In the post-Independence period, some thought Hindi would replace the regional languages. But they soon realised that Hindi, however rich it may be, cannot bulldoze the regional languages, minor languages and dialects merely in the name of national homogeneity. Standardisation of Indian literature through a national language is another Minto-model concept. Every language, irrespective of the number of people who speak it, has its own identity and soul. Homogenisation of linguistic variants also is not possible. Tulsidas composed Ramcharit Manas in Avadhi. It has stood the test of time and reached the entire Hindi-speaking world, cutting across all barriers. Vidyapati wrote in Maithili and Surdas in Bhojpuri. They stood firmly on the foundations of their respective dialects and created poetry with pride and pleasure.

Sivasankari came to Kerala in the winter of 1992 to launch her project. When she explained her methodology in detail, it was mind-boggling. Travelling all over the country and meeting writers of 18 languages was not at all an easy task. (She was sticking to 18, in line with the Eighth Schedule of our Constitution). She was not planning an encyclopaedia type of work. What she wanted to present was an introduction to the 18 literatures through detailed interviews with selected writers in these languages. This was to be presented in four big volumes, one for each zone of the country. She was totally involved with the project; rather, she was obsessed with it.

I took her first to Tirur, the birthplace of Thunchath Ezhuthachan, the 16th Century poet who is considered the father of the modern Malayalam language. I could feel her thrill and reverence when she handled the iron stylus with which Ezhuthachan wrote his great poetry. Later, I arranged for her to meet with Vaikkom Mohammed Basheer and Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai. Basheer was bedridden, but he enjoyed the long session. He passed away after a few months and that was his last interview. Thakazhi also had health problems. But he talked for hours. I was present on both occasions and I was pleased to note that the interviewer had come fully prepared, having done a lot of homework on Malayalam literature.

I had my own doubts about this project considering its magnitude. No longer, for I now see that she has completed the first two volumes successfully and is ready to start work on the next two volumes. And eight years labour of love! I consider the invitation to write a Foreword to the second volume an honour and a privilege.

Before reading the present volume, my awareness of the literary scenes in Nepali and Manipuri was virtually insignificant. To some extent, I was familiar with the literature of Bengali, Oriya and Assamiya. This volume has given me more information and insight regarding these three languages. There may be shortcomings. Some may point out that instead of writer ‘A’, it should have been writer 'B', and leaving out so and so was a mistake. But there will be many like me who will feel they have been truly benefitted by this stupendous work.

During the interviews, writers sometimes come up with striking observations. Manoj Das believes that a life force is inherent in every language. If we repose faith in such a divine force and maintain our relationship correctly, we are sure to have beneficial results. The young Nepali poet Kewal Chandra Lama, who earns his livelihood by painting advertising boards and posters, dreams of a new revolution which will sweep the world he lives in and bring about a healthy change. For Binodini Devi, the Manipuri writer, the so-called commitment of literature is not governed by ground rules as in the case of a political party, My commitment is to remain a sincere and truthful writer. For Ramakanta Rath, the Oriya poet, The written word is a search for a particular stage of thought. There is another kind of truth there. The truth does not occur immediately despite being a part of our lives.

Can India be knit through literature? Understanding a literature is understanding its people and their culture. Ignoring our languages is part of the 'culture amnesia' induced by the hangover of colonialism.

Sivasankari's work is not merely an introduction to the contemporary regional literatures of India. It is also a plea for the revival of our cultural memory and rediscovery of the identity of our languages.

I feel the relevance for such works is greater now when the politics of language is dividing democratic India by erecting walls of intolerance.

- M.T. Vasudevan Nair

CALICUT

March 2000

Preface – 1

(Volume I - The South)

As a young girl, I had often heard my mother narrate this little tale:

Once upon a time there was a kind-hearted girl who lived in a small village. The girl was a poor orphan, but she always wanted to help people around her. While saying her prayers one night, she wished for a money-bearing tree that would allow her to help a lot more people. When she woke up the next morning, she found a huge tree near her little hut. Instead of fruits, the tree bore gold coins. Passers-by wondered who had sown the seed from which the tree had sprouted. The girl had no answer to the question, but she continued to pluck the coins and distribute them to people around. As a result, poverty was removed from her land.

Thinking back on this story, I feel that the latter half of it in particular describes my own situation quite accurately.

I do not know who sowed in me the seed that has today grown into the Knit India through Literature project. But, blessed with the right type of soil, water and fertiliser, the seed has grown into a huge tree that abounds with fragrant flowers and luscious fruit. Yet, I do not want to enjoy them all by myself; but I would rather share this bounty with my countrymen.

Even as I sit down with pen in hand to write this preface, I beget memories of by gone times. About ten years ago I was in Mysore, to participate in a literary meet that attempted to analyse a novel written by a Black American woman writer. Around twenty writers from different parts of the country had gathered there to analyse the work in minute detail. Dwelling on the discussions on my journey back, I was suddenly struck by the incongruity or irony of the whole situation. While we had sufficient knowledge of world literature - Black, Latin-American or European - to be able to thoroughly analyse it, we were woefully unaware of our very own literary treasures

Let alone the people, even our learned writers do not have much of a knowledge of the literary works in Indian languages other than their own! What could be the reason for this? The fact that there had not been much effort to translate literary works into other languages could be a possible reason. Was it this thought that sowed the seed for the "Knit India through Literature project in me? Thinking back. I believe that may well be the case.

On yet another occasion, when I was in Sikkim for a writers' meet. I found that the writers who had congregated there had heard about Tamil Nadu's idli sambar (a traditional breakfast food) and her silks but knew next to nothing about her literature. This had quite an impact on me. There is also another aspect to this issue. While it is true that others do not know much about us, isn't it also a fact that we know hardly anything about them? Calcutta is synonymous with rasagollas, Rajasthan with marble and Kerala with coir. How much do we Indians know about the literature created in States other than our own, and what sort of an effort have we made to get to know their traditions, their customs, their joys and sorrows?

I am not saying that there haven't been any cultural exchanges amongst us at all. A dweller of Kasi (Varanasi) may name his son "Ramnath' after the presiding deity in the southern temple town of Rameswaram. Or a Tamil girl could be named 'Vaishnavi after the goddess who dwells in the foothills of the Himalayan ranges. Meera bhajans are sung in the South and Kathakali is performed in Delhi. Religious, cultural or even political links have been established over time. But are they sufficient to strengthen the unity and integrity of our nation?

What is the role of literature in this effort to 'knit' people together? Very many years ago our former President Dr. S. Radhakrishnan said that while it may be written in different languages, Indian literature is one. Does his belief hold good today? How many Indians know of the Assamese writer Birendra Bhattacharya, Karnataka's Shivaram Karanth or West Bengal's Mahasveta Devi who are till today engaged in efforts to enrich their people's thought processes? Should not language function as a bridge to introduce people to their treasured heritage?

It is probably these questions and thoughts that have nurtured the seed of the "Knit India' project within me. Plagued by all these questions, I continuously wondered if I could do something about it.

India is an ancient land We are its citizens

United we will all live Divided we will all fall

Inspired by these words of the turban-clad Tamil Poet Bharati, I began work on the 'Knit India through Literature project four years ago. This literary tree, that this volume is the first part of, is what grew from the seed I began nurturing from that time.

The Eighth Schedule of the Indian Constitution lists 18 official languages. This project's goal has been to learn more about the culture, history and literature of the people of each state and introduce them to their fellow Indians through the works of a few writers selected from each of these languages. The ultimate aim is to publish the analysis in four volumes.

When I attempted to implement my plans I was beset with several doubts. Would it be possible for a single woman to go alone to Manipur and Kashmir to meet writers? How could I arrange the finance required for the project? Would it be possible for a lone individual to function on three planes simultaneously-could I, while engaged in the preparations for one language, travel for another language and also translate yet another language? Before long I became thoroughly demoralised when both the Central Government and other organisations that claimed to support the cause of national integration turned down my request for financial assistance. While they praised my project, saying that it was unique and innovative, they also said that their rules did not permit them to support my efforts financially. I also had to contend with the indifference of some writers, who did not respond to repeated letters, and literary organisations which did not provide me with information I needed. But somehow the ‘plant' within me continued to grow.

If today this first volume of Knit India through Literature is in your hands, it is entirely due to the grace of God and the good wishes of many kind souls. And even as I write these lines, the second volume, on the eastern languages, is just about ready to go to print and I have started meeting the writers of the western languages for the third volume.

Since I felt that it would distract my attention from the Knit India' project, I have put my fiction writing on hold. I am not sad about this. For the awareness and knowledge I have gained from my experiences over the last four years, meeting with the writers in ten languages and journeying through their states, to get to know the people and their traditions, has been truly amazing. I sometimes wonder at my good fortune and I am increasingly eager to share with my fellow Indians the knowledge I have gained.

I think I should elaborate here on the ways and means by which I went about choosing suitable writers in each language. First, I wrote to literary associations and leading magazines asking them to identify prominent writers in each language. From the replies, I picked out the common names, corresponded with them and followed this up with personal interviews. I can assure you that this literary bridge, built with the help of worthy litterateurs, is truly strong. As far as possible, I have tried to include the views of the younger generation as well.

Some of the writers I have met for this project are quite old. And yet their memory, commitment and clarity of thought and speech amazed me. If I had the required facilities, I would have video-taped all the interviews. As of now, I have confined myself to photographs and audio-tapes. The interview I had with the renowned Malayalam writer Vaikkom Mohammed Basheer needs special mention. He was stricken by illness but still maintained a cheerful countenance and readily obliged with a fairly long interview. Just months later, he passed away. When I think of this I really regret not having been able to video-tape my interviews with these 'walking encyclopaedias'.

I have attempted to use the writers' very own words when recording their responses to my questions. If there are no answers to some questions, it is because the writers in those instances did not allot time for me despite my repeated requests.

I have included a short travelogue of each State before going on to the interviews with the writers of the language of the State. Since the objective of this work is to introduce Indians to their fellow Indians living in other States, I have included these essays as bait to draw them into the literary experience. If even just a few of my readers become desirous of knowing more about the people, the language and the literature of any of these States after reading my interviews, I will be extremely happy at having achieved my objective.

There is a Tamil saying about an entire village coming together to draw the temple chariot. I think this project is a perfect example of that. Although I functioned as an individual, if I had not had the support of my fellow writers and many others, my dream of knitting Indians through literature would not be a reality today.

Many of you might wonder if national integration can be fostered merely by publishing these four volumes. No, I certainly don't have any such Utopian ideas. I am aware that we have miles to go before we reach our goal and only wish that this effort helps us cover at least the first few miles of our long journey. I quote an incident from the Ramayana here.

All of you, I am sure, know about the contribution made by the squirrels when Rama was building the Sethu bridge to get to Lanka. Each squirrel dipped its body in the ocean, came back to roll on the sands, went back to the site where the bridge was being built and shook the sand off its body. Thus was accumulated enough sand for the bridge to be built. Although their efforts cannot compare with those of mighty Hanuman, they did contribute. I wish to be like the squirrel and chip in with my own effort 'Knit India through Literature - to help preserve the unity and integrity of our great country.

This is the land of my forefathers

Where they lived and loved happily

This is the ancient land where

Our forefathers have lived for thousands of years.

This is the land in which they flourished

With their diverse and rich thoughts.

Keeping this in mind

How can I not praise my land,

How can I not bow down saying Vande Mataram.

- BHARATI

-Sivasankari

CHENNAI. November 1997

Preface - II

It was in 1998 that the first of the four volume series of the 'Knit India through Literature project – the volume on the South Indian languages - came out. I certainly did not then feel the fear and trepidation that I do now, as I stand on the threshold of the second volume being published, this one on the East Indian languages.

I have had a lifelong acquaintance with the South Indian languages of Malayalam, Telugu, Kannada and Tamil, through the several trips made to the neighbouring states during school holidays to visit numerous relatives. Hence, I did not feel any discomfort during my trips to Hyderabad, Trivandrum or Bangalore to meet with the various writers I needed to meet for the first volume. On the other hand, the trips that I undertook for my research on the eastern languages left me utterly bewildered most of the time. Apart from the usual problems like an unknown language, an unknown region and unfamiliar food habits, I was faced with many a practical difficulty on account of the work itself. There was the problem of communicating with some writers who could not understand English. Then there was the problem of transcribing the cassettes of the interviews several times on account of the different pronunciations. Worse still were the additional trips I had to undertake to far off places like Darjeeling and Imphal when I found that the interviews had not yielded sufficient material or there were doubts that had to be personally clarified with the writers.

The project was basically accomplished in three phases. The initial spadework involving research on the language, the field work that involved travelling to the homes of the various writers and interviewing them and then the work of transcribing the tapes on my return to Chennai and editing and writing them up. In this elaborate procedure, I took the assistance of others only to transcribe the tapes. While my assistants found the job of transcribing the tapes containing the interviews of the South Indian writers easy on account of their familiarity with the languages, they were somewhat challenged when it came to the Eastern language interviews. There were those who even returned the tapes expressing their inability to transcribe the tapes, what with the names, literary works and the situations described being totally unfamiliar, apart from the difficulty with the pronunciations. A whole year passed by before I could with new help from time to time complete the task successfully! (I anticipate the same problems to crop up in my work with the Western and Northern languages as well).

I am glad that despite all these problems this volume is being released at least in 2000, instead of 1999 as originally planned, for at times I despaired of even my best possible efforts.

Some of you may wonder why I say my best possible efforts. Let me explain. Although I maintained a continuous correspondence with the writers, some of them were unavailable on account of trips abroad or elsewhere. In some cases, the responses did not reach me in time and as a result, there may be a few minor factual mistakes in this volume. Also, there were many discrepancies in the notes that I collected in terms of dates, names etc., and this could be responsible for errors. I would like to cite a few examples here: the name of the river Hugly is spelt as Hooghly elsewhere; one book refers to the land area of the Sunderbans as 9630 sq.m. while another refers to it as 2608 sq.m; and one version has Shantiniketan being started by Tagore in 1901, while another has the poet starting the Brahma Vidyalaya in 1890. Similarly I can go on about the other languages as well.

As a result of lack of proper communication, the interviews of some important writers have unfortunately been excluded from this volume. Despite sending him two letters, I could not get in touch with the Jnanpith Award-winning Oriya poet Sitakant Mohapatra. I probably had the wrong address and, as a result, the letters possibly never reached him.

In the years that have gone by between my fieldwork in the eastern region and the release of this volume, there have been many changes, many losses. Dr. Birendra Bhattacharya and Dr. Jagat Chhetri, who accorded me such a warm welcome and hospitality in Guwahati and Darjeeling respectively, are no longer with us. Mr. Subhas Mukhopadhyay, who was so encouraging, is today able to communicate with others only with the help of a writing board. Although I grieve these losses, I am happy that I was able to interact with these people when they were at their cheerful best.

All the trials and tribulations that I had to face in the course of this work are of no matter to me now that the book has been published, after systematic and honest research and through the co-operation of all the esteemed writers.

The foreword written by the Jnanpith Award-winning Malayalam writer M.T. Vasudevan Nair is an ornament that serves to embellish this volume. I am thankful to him and all the others who have made this work possible.

My inner soul calls to me at his juncture, cheering me at this halfway mark and encouraging me to proceed undaunted with my efforts to complete this Herculean task. I am confident my inner grit and determination will see me through the tasks of completing the work on the Western and Northern languages shortly.

-Sivasankari.

CHENNAI 31.3.2000

But for whom this project would not have been possible...

God: For being with me in every thought and deed from the very inception of the project.

Mr. G.K. Moopanar: For proudly proclaiming my success as his own at the inaugural function and for being a constant source of support and confidence ever since.

Mr. N.Narayanan (Chairman, Indian syntans ltd.) and Mrs. Meena Narayanan: For willingly coming forward to support the expenses incurred on my trips to the eastern region.

Mr. M.Gopalakrishnan (Former Chairman, Indian Bank): For co-ordinating with the various branches of Indian Bank at Darjeeling, Siliguri, Guwahati and Calcutta, thereby facilitating my trips there.

Mrs. Uma Santhanaraman and Mr. Santhanaraman (Zonal Manager, Calcutta), Mr. Thopa (Siliguri branch), Mr. Pradhan, Mr. Bakchi (Darjeeling branch), Mr. Vijaykumar, Mr. Nagarajan, Mr. Ringay Foning, Mr. Balu (Guwahati) (All Indian Bank officers): For helping me complete the interviews with the writers in Assam and Darjeeling and also for helping with my local sightseeing.

Mrs. Jayanti Natarajan (Former Central Minister of Civil Aviation): For being a well-wisher and for getting Indian Airlines involved in the project.

Mr. Veeraraghavan (Former IGP, Tamilnadu Police): For brushing aside warnings that it was dangerous for me to travel in Manipur as a single woman, and for alerting the Manipur police to ensure that I had a safe passage through the State.

Mr. Mahesh Sharma (DGP, Manipur): For helping me to travel right up to the Burmese border to meet people and also interview the writers.

Bharatiya Bhasha Parishad (the Calcutta based literary organisation): For providing me with necessary information with regard to literature and also for enabling me to meet a few writers.

Mr. B.D.Sureka and Mrs. Bhagavati Sureka: For making their residence a second home to me and, thus enabling me to operate with Calcutta as my base and travel to the neighbouring states.

Mrs. Kusum Khemani: For helping me in all possible ways with my research into the eastern languages.

Indian Airlines: For sponsoring my trips through the eastern region to interview the writers.

Mr. M.T.Vasudevan Nair: For writing a brief but thought-provoking Foreword that has added to the book's merit.

Writers: For kindly consenting to give me an interview whenever I asked for one and for answering all my questions without any reservations and with the utmost friendliness.

Translators: For helping me by translating the short stories, poems and the articles.

Prof. Satchidanandan (Secretary, The Central Sahitya Akademi): For permitting me to include in this book the research articles published by the Akademi.

Mr. P.C.Ramakrishna: For coming forward voluntarily to help in this literary effort and for assisting me by transcribing the interviews from the tapes.

Mr. V.Krishnamoorthy (Asst. Editor, Sahitya Akademi, Chennai): For providing me with all the information that I required on literature in the last four years.

Mr. Maalan: For helping me reach the people by getting the interviews of Nepal and Assam writers published in Dinamani Sudar, of which he was then the Editor

Mrs. Lalitha Venkatesh: For offering to be my right hand throughout the project, whether it was looking for books in the library and making notes, translating them if necessary, organising my travel itinerary, or proofreading.

Mrs. Janaki Viswanathan: For translating the interviews of the Manipuri, Oriya and Bengali writers into English.

Mrs. Sabita Radhakrishnan: For translating the interviews of the Assamese writers into English

Ms. Daya Kingston: For translating the interviews of the Nepali writers into English.

Mr. Thotaa Tharani: For conceiving such a wonderful cover design for this book.

M.C.S. Communications Pvt. Ltd.: For preparing all the state maps and preparing

the colourful layouts for all the pages including the suitable pictures.

Gangai Puthaka Nilayam: For bringing out this book beautifully.

My family: For supporting me through and through with pride and joy glittering in their eyes.

My readers: For wanting me to succeed in my effort and agreeing to wait for me to return to fiction which I have stopped writing for the last seven years.

Apart from these people, I wish to express my heartfelt thanks to all those involved in bringing out this publication and to other friends.

- Sivasankari.

ASSAMESE

TRAVELLING THROUGH ASSAM

Wrapped in swirling mists, with a mystique all its own is Assam. Blessed abundantly by Nature, its temperate climate fosters emerald green stretches as far as the eye can see. Assam is dominated by the mighty Brahmaputra River which has nourished it from time immemorial. Sharing boundaries with the other North Eastern States of India, Assam is bordered by Bhutan and Arunachal Pradesh in the north and east, Nagaland and Manipur to its south, and Meghalaya to its southwest. Assam is a melting pot of the most diverse races and born of this synthesis are the colourful, vibrant people of the State. Its culture is a happy amalgam of the heritage of numerous races... Indo-Tibetan, Mongolian, Negroid, Aryan and many more.

The people of Assam call their state 'Asan' and their language 'Asamiya'. In 1228, a section of the great Thai or Shan race invaded Assam. According to Assamese literature, the natives of the territory called the invaders Asam' or 'Acam’. Subsequently, 'Asam' was referred to as the region east of the present district of Kamrup.

It is history that influences the development of a territory and its culture as well as the evolution of its people and the growth or disintegration of their languages. In the 17th Century, the Koch power declined and the centre of literary importance shifted from Western Assam to the Ahom Court in Eastern Assam. Sibsagar was the capital of the mighty Ahoms who ruled Assam for more than 600 years, till the British East India Company over-ran the territory in 1826.

Constituted as a province by the British in 1874, Assam was expanded by the conquerors to include the whole of the Brahmaputra valley. Assamese is spoken by about 9 million people, mainly in the Brahmaputra valley and in Meghalaya, Nagaland and Arunachal Pradesh. Comprising two currents, the main linguistic current is the Kamrupi dialect. The other is the 'standard colloquial' spoken today, which is based on the dialect of Eastern Assam. In 1836, the American Baptist Mission promoted the language of Eastern Assam as the literary language of the entire province.

Aptly called the Light of the East and the Shangri-la of India, Assam, the jewel of the Northeast, is an enchanting region of unsurpassed natural beauty, untouched by the crass fingers of modernisation. The music of its tumbling streams, the falling rain creating dark ripples in the Brahmaputra, the green foliage everywhere, creates a magical charm which holds you enthralled. The ancient name of Assam is Kamrup. Kamadeva, the local version of Cupid, was believed to have regained his beautiful physical form here. The myths of the region claim that the city of Kamrup was built by Narakasura. Most famous here is the Kamakhya temple, with its mystic legends.

A Legend has it that when King Daksha was preparing for the yagya or sacrificial rite with due ceremony, he invited all the important deities, except his son-in-law Shiva, whom he considered eccentric and strange not only in his choice of garb but in his demeanour. Though she was not invited either, Sati, Shiva's wife and Daksha's daughter, could not stay away from her parents' home, and sought from her husband permission, which was granted rather unwillingly, to attend the function.

Seated in the congregation, Daksha began to speak ill of Shiva. Insulted and heartbroken at this disgracing of her husband, Sati killed herself by jumping into the sacrificial fire. Lord Shiva's meditation was disturbed and, arriving on the scene, he put an end to the yagya. He then threw the dead body of his beloved wife over his shoulders and traversed the length and breadth of India, spreading destruction wherever he set foot.

Disconcerted by Siva's blazing anger and unmitigated sorrow as well as the sorry state of affairs that had come to pass, Lord Vishnu, whose mission was to preserve the Universe, sent his Sudarsana Chakra, which cut Sati's body into 18 parts. Each part fell as Siva walked and became a sacred spot in accordance with the divine decree. The yoni of Sati fell on the Neel Parvat (Kamakhya Hills), which came to be known as Nilachal. Its presiding deity was Kamakhya Devi.

I Having lost the physical remains of his beloved wife, Shiva returned to his senses and went back to his meditation. Meanwhile, Sati, born again as Parvati, was determined to get back Mahadeva as her consort, and beseeched Kamadeva to get Shiva to fall in love with her. Mahadeva's reverie was shattered and he was roused by Cupid's arrow. When he opened his third eye, Kamadeva, who was standing before him, was consigned to flames and burnt into ashes. Rati, his wife, wept and pleaded for her husband's life, which Shiva granted, but his exquisite form was lost and visible only to his wife Rati. Undaunted, Kamadeva did penance at the Kamakhya temple and the deity blessed him with his original form.

Though I am acquainted with the legend of Sati, the association with the Kamakhya temple was new to me and a revelation!

Apart from the Kamakhya temple there are many other temples in Kamrup, some of them being dedicated to Umasankar, Navagraha, the nine planets, and Vasisht, the great sage. All the temples I visited were dilapidated, very badly maintained and, sad to say, dirty. Neverthe less, I went with mounting anticipation to the Kamakhya temple, totally unprepared for what awaited me. There, in the dim dinginess of the sanctum sanctorum, where the dank, acrid smell of decaying flesh compounded the neglect, were two eyeballs glinting in the semi-darkness, looking at me with silent, desperate appeal. The gruesome sight of the sacrificial goat's head, with congealed blood all around it, turned my stomach. The morbid sight of those glazed eyeballs, in which lay arrested that moment of struggle and fear, is something that I can never erase from my memory.

As if to compensate for the morbidity of such uncalled for sacrifices, the States of Assam, Tripura, Mizoram, Meghalaya, Nagaland, Arunachal Pradesh and Manipur are bountifully endowed by Nature and affectionately referred to as the 'Seven Sisters'. The stretch of the Brahmaputra that I gazed at was awesome. With its banks not visible to the eye, and seeming to extend beyond eternity, the extent of its waters was colossal and it looked like a mighty ocean.

Assam is part of an incredibly opulent kaleidoscope of rare flora and fauna. Velvet green tea plantations proliferate amidst high mountains which reach out to the fleecy white clouds playing hide and seek with one another. A wealth of the rarest wildlife roams with unfettered freedom in Assam's boundless and verdant forests. Apart from a few places in Africa, there is perhaps no part of the world where such a variety of wildlife exists, some of it nearly extinct. Elephants, single-horned rhinoceros, Indian bison, deer, leopard, jungle cat, birds like pelicans, ducks, hornbills, ibis, cormorants, egrets, ring-tailed fishing eagles, and many more kinds of wildlife enrich the forests.

What saddened me is that despite such a wealth of natural resources, progress in the State is at a plateau, without any visible sign of development or growth or initiative from the local people to improve their status further. Asked about their stagnation, the locals shrug their shoulders and declare that they are helpless, as the Centre never encourages them and only extends step-motherly treatment to them as compared to the other states!

That the locals are not hard-working and lack drive and initiative is, however, evident. I came across many instances which indicated this. One person went to such an extreme as to say that only the people who have migrated to Assam work at all! A well-known writer informed me that there was water scarcity in Guwahati! This, when the mighty Brahmaputra nourishes the land!

The Assamese are a colourful people, wearing magnificent clothes and creating art out of life. The Mugha silk of Assam is famous, as are the woollen endishawls, intricately woven gamochas, handicraft items in bamboo and cane, including furniture and baskets, and brassware. And who hasn't heard of Assam tea?

The women in particular wear very colourful attire, which resembles the half saree and skirt of the South. Bold bands of colour, usually in vivid red and black, pre dominate in the cloth worn over the skirts, which in turn are dazzling in their combinations of hues and weaves. The women, however, do not wear flowers. It is believed that the wearing of flowers by women would send out the wrong kind of signals, so flowers are not sold anywhere except for the odd marigold garland.

A curious local feature is that the people do not believe in 'full' addresses. The Assamese have a quaint system of their own, which is hardly any help to the outsiders. It is, therefore, very frustrating when you have to locate an address. When I wanted to visit Dr. Birendra Kumar Bhattacharya, the famous writer, the address I was given was 'Kharghuli, Guwahati'! Kharghuli happens to be the name of a small hill. There was no street name, nor door number. I spent an entire evening enquiring at shops and houses as to where the famous man lived, before I finally arrived at his place. I wondered what kind of plight I'd have had to endure if the man was not well known! Fortunately for me, an officer from Indian Bank, Mr. Vijayakumar, who was good at Assamese, was my guide; otherwise I would not have known what to do!

When I asked why the system of addresses was so unstructured, the answer was always the same: It is a small place, and people are easily located! Some writers assured me that with proper town planning this problem would soon be eliminated.

The lush greenery of the place reminded me of the Kerala landscape. The deciduous forests, with endless rows of exotic orchids and a variety of medicinal plants, are Assam's choicest natural treasure. Like their Kerala counterparts, the Assamese love fish, which is part of their daily diet.

Many here eat tambool, which is a kind of betel nut. The nuts are collected, placed in sacks, stored underground and allowed to ferment for three weeks. Many people warned me about the potency of these nuts, but they also urged me to try them! Not wanting to miss out on a new experience, I gingerly sampled a wee bit of tambool, respecting it as a social custom. It definitely was a new experience! The smell was so obnoxious that I just spat it out, and then I gargled vigorously to take the horrible taste away! Yet, even the little I had had made my head spin.

Being an earthquake-prone area, Assam does not have tall buildings. Its buildings are simple and low with tin roofing, reminiscent of military barracks.

It is a two-hour drive along the highway from Guwahati to Nakang. Portova, 14 kilometres from Nakang, is famous as the birthplace of Mahakavi Sri Sankar Dev, a renowned Assamese writer. The temple in this town is regarded as a sacred Vaishnavite shrine.

Sri Sankar Dev (1449-1568) was the poet laureate during the regime of the 15th century Assamese ruler Naranarayan. (It was quite a shock for me when I note that the poet lived upto 119 years!). One day, the king called Sri Sankar Dev and asked him to write an abridged version of the Bhagavata Puranam in a single night. The poet accomplished the task successfully and his wonderful book Gunamala is the result. After this incident, a particular proverb became famous in these parts: 'like killing an elephant and hiding it in a pot, is how it goes. After my return from Assam, whenever I found that somebody had accomplished an almost impossible task, I made it a point to compliment them saying, You have managed to trap an elephant in an earthen pot.

Hajo, 32 km from Guwahati, is notable for the harmonious traditions and customs practised there. Hindus, Muslims and Buddhists all worship at the Hayagriva Madhav, the Bova Mecca and the Buddhist temple in Hajo, indicating that all religions enjoy equal status. The devotees who offer prayers at Bova Mecca believe that prayers offered at this shrine are as powerful as prayers offered at the shrine in Mecca itself.

The Bihu festivals are the most widely celebrated Assamese festivals and are celebrated with great pomp. Rangoli Bihu, also called Bohak Bihu, is the most important among the Bihu festivals and is celebrated in April, around the advent of spring. It is a wonderful sight to see the people clad in their new clothes, singing the songs specially composed for this season,Dr. Jamini Devi, my professor friend, told me proudly.

I later drove about 100 kilometres from Guwahati to the capital of Meghalaya, Shillong, and from there another 60 kilometres to Cherrapunji which, we had learnt as children, has the highest recorded rainfall. I left at 7 a.m. in a ramshackle, battered old jalopy of a taxi, driven by Prasad, from Uttar Pradesh. Whenever I stopped to take photographs, the car would not start, and we had to enlist the aid of passers-by to push it. Despite such a vehicle, Prasad, the enterprising driver, makes some 20 trips from Assam to Shillong and back every month, earning about Rs. 25,000!

There are three tribal groups in Meghalaya, the Khasi, Garo and Jaintia. The Khasi, whose ancestors are from Thailand, are the largest group, about 40% of the population. The tribe is predominantly matriarchal even today, the youngest Khasi son-in-law comes to stay with his wife and her parents, and assumes his wife's family name. I am sure this will delight the hearts of many of our feminists! The son-in-law is expected to look after his in-laws, and this is the practice.

The girls in the family are given much respect and paid much attention. In fact, the birth of a girl child is considered auspicious. If the youngest child happens to be a girl, she receives a large share of the family property. For purposes of a job or education, the man takes his mother's name after his if he is unmarried, and his wife's after marriage. Women are extremely hard-working, and many run provision and vegetable shops after office hours. Divorce and remarriage are very common.

When I was there, there was a protest march and a demonstration by the youth against the freedom and rights given to women! Dr. Hamlet Barch, Vice Chancellor of the N.E. University, has written a book on the culture and tradition of the people, and their language which has grown in its stature from a mere 800 words to 4000.

The women do not carry babies on their hips as we do here. It was fascinating to watch young girls carrying babies on their backs with such consummate ease! I stopped the car to take pictures, but there was always a spate of protests, believing as they do that the camera is an evil eye' that would lessen the lifespan. After several attempts, however, I succeeded in getting one family to agree to my request to get a young girl photographed.

This child was only 8 or 9 years old herself. She bent low, almost double, swept a barely 6 month old baby up in a swift, almost acrobatic movement on to her back with her left hand, and threw a cloth called the jaincem over the baby. The baby, well used to this, clung to the back of her sister like a little monkey. The ends of the cloth were crossed over the young girl's chest and knotted. Incredible as it may seem, the girl accomplished the entire operation unaided in less than ten seconds!

Unfortunately, owing to reasons of security, I was unable to visit the border districts, but having seen so much I consoled myself with the thought... after all there will be another time, another place!

* * * *

B.K. BHATTACHARYA

Seventy-year-old Dr. Birendra Kumar Bhattacharya is regarded as one of the pillars of modern Assamese literature. His revolutionary ideas have brought him recognition by way of the Sahitya Akademi and Jnanpith awards. A former president of the State Sahitya Akademi, Dr. Bhattacharya encouraged many revolutionary writers and poets, publishing a fair representation of their work while he was Editor of Navayug and Ramdhenu. Thanks to his efforts, many aspiring young writers entered the stream of Assamese literature.

When Dr. Bhattacharya was president of the Central Sahitya Akademi, we happened to travel together to attend various meetings held at five American universities. We became acquainted during the two weeks of association, and getting to know this intellectual giant was an unforgettable experience. Dr. Bhattacharya is cultured, soft-natured and very tolerant in his dealings with people. I came to know him, not merely as a learned scholar, but as a friend, and a wonderful human being.

I was delighted to learn that my birth date and month coincided with Dr. Bhattacharya's!

* * *

* Sir, as an erudite scholar, steeped in the nuances of Assamese literature, could you briefly touch on its history?

The roots of the language can be traced to the early Christian era, going back to the period when the Kamrup kings ruled. The inscriptions of these kings were generally in Sanskrit. The local influence is tangible in the words, so there has been continuity in the recorded history, from the 13th and 14th Centuries. We have adaptations of the Ramayana, Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita. Our historic literature is unique and rich, giving an account of the kings who ruled Assam for 500 years between the 13th and 18th Centuries. Then, of course, the British took over.

* Then there was a gap of 40 to 60 years...

Yes, probably between 1835 and 1873, immediately after the British took over, the Assamese language disappeared. In 1835, Bengali was introduced as the medium of instruction as well as the language of the courts, and this continued till 1873. Assamese literature could develop only later.

* The launch of a certain magazine promoted Assamese writing, did it not?

You are right. A journal called Orunodoi was launched in 1846 by an American Baptist missionary and it attempted to develop the style and prose of the language. It became a platform for writers.

* I believe the first Assamese novel was written by an American Baptist.

Yes, that's right. It was partly to propagate Christian stories. For example, Pilgrim's Progress was translated. The theme was on prostitutes taking to Christianity. It was a beginning. But the Assamese novel was born with Padmavati Devi Pokrani.

* I have heard that Sudhama Upakhyan by Padmavati written in 1884 was Assam's first novel. To Assam must go the credit of a woman writing the first novel in the local language!

That has to be verified. I believe that the first genuine novel was Jonaki by Bezbarua.

* In some languages, the literature is classified according to certain periods. But I am not able to see such demarcations in Assamese literature. I am told that the novels can be broadly divided as the early ones, those written under the influence of the freedom struggle, those that centre on tribals and adivasis, etc. Could you tell me if this assessment is correct?

Personally I do not believe in such classifications. As far as Assamese is concerned, the themes for the early novels were taken from history or the immediate past, and written in a romantic fashion. The romantic era began with Jonaki. This period from the late 19th Century to 1936 is called the Bezbarua age. The first era harked back to the past discovering the glories and identities of the people and looking at nature. Attention was paid to the life of the common man. Next came the pre-social era, which painted society in different ways. From 1930 onwards, there was an upsurge in social novels based on the freedom movement, whose impact was felt from around 1920.

* Would you say that the Gandhian influence was there?

Yes. The earlier political influence had been during the Bengal partition movement. This was in 1905. Assam was tagged on to Bengal and Dacca was made the state capital. Assam did not want the partition of Bengal, and there was a movement against it. Ambikagiri Raichaudhury, a romantic poet, joined the movement, and influenced by it, he wrote political poems and songs which were sung during the freedom struggle.

* What kind of influence did the freedom struggle have on Assamese literature?

The impact was colossal. It made the writers socially conscious, and even those who were romantic writers wrote on political issues. They were constantly on a voyage of discovery. One cannot separate the national liberation movement from the romantic which is an extension really, of matters of such political and social significance. You cannot compartmentalise writing. In this I differ from critics who place different forms of writing in watertight compartments.

* Yes, I agree with you. It is a process of growing, and you cannot slot writers. The demarcation by the critics is merely for the purpose of analysis. You mentioned the influence of Gandhian thought. Who were writing during that significant period?

Gandhinath Kolith and Daibochandra Daluka were greatly influenced by Gandhian ideals, especially Gandhinath. His novel Sadhana depicted women's problems and the awareness of those problems. The main character, a social reformer, is powerfully sketched, though the other characters are not so well developed. The characters are portrayed as being aware of the multitude of problems faced by women.

* I read that the Second World War effected stagnation in the literary activity in Assam.

There was a lot of political unrest at that time and Assam was a war field, especially being close to Manipur which was very heavy with tension. The rise of prices was a big setback. Magazines were not being printed and film production had come to a standstill.

* How long did the stagnation last?

It lasted ten years, and the people were immobilised because of the crumbling of the economy. The writers who were very prominent before the World War, stopped writing

* Tell me about the post-Independence period.

Assam was pinning her hopes on Independence and assuming that the independent status lost in 1826 would be restored. There was stagnation for some time, then slowly literary activities were resumed and Sahitya Sabhas were revived. With a view to publish ing rare books, The Assamese Publication Board was formed.

* Was this when novels dealing with socio-economic, regional and tribal issues entered a new dimension?

Yes. Two dramatic changes in Bengal had their impact on Assamese literature. One was modern poetry, and the other was the Marxist movement. The change crept into the magazines right from the Thirties.

* Was it not during this post-Independence era that you became popular?

My colleague Hem Barua, a critic and an M.P., was one who felt that the full growth of the State depended largely on industrialisation. He had socialist views. The other critic, equally competent, was the linguist Banikanta Kakati who reviewed the work done by Rajani Kanta Bardoloi. This writer of historical novels, by chance wrote about the tribals of Assam and their lives full of variety and beauty. This inspired me to take up my pen and write.

* Tell me about Bhattacharya the individual, the kind of childhood you had, your memories of your family and growing up.

I was born in a tea garden on October 14th, 1924 in Sibsagar. I had one brother and two sisters one of whom died while she was just a child. My parents were very loving, but we were poor. My father worked in a tea garden and had to support two establishments - his own family in our village eight miles from Jorhat, and an elder brother who lived elsewhere... We were part of a joint family, you see. During my childhood, we too went through a lean phase, assailed by poverty. During the pre-harvest period, we often went to school hungry.

* How did you manage to study?

Fortunately, I obtained a scholarship, as otherwise my father would not have been able to educate me. I studied in Jorhat High School and Cotton College, Guwahati gave me the right kind of exposure.

* What kind of background did you have for literature and did anyone in your family have a leaning towards it?

The tea gardens gave me the necessary background. You see, here, the babus live near one another, and the atmosphere is different from that of a village. They subscribed to various magazines, to which fortunately I had access, and that gave me a fine exposure. In time, we started some handwritten magazines. My father's eldest brother was a journalist, and a Sanskrit scholar; so was another uncle. One of them was at one time editor of a magazine called Bijli. He was interested in literature, and we were inspired by him. My father was a poet, and wrote verses. He was not a writer in the modern sense.

* What are your early literary memories? Which was your first piece of writing?

We were inspired by Lakshminath Bezbarua's views that the nation's progress was guided entirely by the progress of language and literature. During my childhood, the president of the Sahitya Sabha in my village was an eminent poet. It was in his village library that my brother and I read about Rabindranath Tagore. My brother is a poet and a critic. It was compulsory for each section of every class in the Government High School where I studied to bring out a handwritten magazine. I began to write poems in our magazine. I must have been about 12 or 13 at the time. The theme of the poem was the injustice meted out by a stepmother to her son. I saw this injustice all around me in the village. As a result, I wrote a short story that was published in the magazine of Cotton College. It was titled 'Moradipada Jeevan' or 'Life that Withers Away'. One of my relatives was suffering from tuberculosis, incurable at that time. My short story was based on his life, and won the first prize in an inter--collegiate competition.

* When did you seriously venture into journalism?

Some of my friends were Gandhians and we did not want to enter into Government service. We sought an independent life, but one of effective social commitment. I loved writing right from the start, and so chose journalism. I wanted to go to Calcutta to do a course in journalism after my graduation. Since it was not offered in the Calcutta University, I went back to Assam instead and took up work in Bhani (or the Flute), a magazine, established by the late L.M. Bezbarua. His cousin who was running the magazine passed away, leaving me to run it. When the magazine closed down, I joined the Calcutta daily Advance. It was a good daily edited by Hemendra Prasad.

* Tell me about your first novel.

My first novel "Traveller into the Final Journey' was written in Calcutta. In August 1946, when the great Calcutta massacre took place, many, many people were killed. A good friend of mine, a student of literature, was brutally killed. He had in fact taken the manuscript of my novel to read. I lost a friend and with him my manuscript. I witnessed these gruesome killings, and from then on, I cannot weep when someone dies. I left Calcutta and came to Guwahati, and joined a daily as news editor. Debakanta Barua was the editor. This however did not last. I quit following a difference of opinion.

At that time, I met a friend from Manipur who wanted me to join a school in Nagaland. He was a graduate and a social worker trained by American missionaries. With my science background, I seemed to him the ideal choice since there were no other volunteers. I was an idealist then and so I did go to Nagaland. I was basically a socialist by