Dark Corner

 THE DARK CORNER

-Roel Hangsing

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute”. Proverb 31:8

When the train halted, after nightfall, at that station the coach was once again filled with all sorts of filth emanating from the sun-backed human waste on the rail track below. My coach was at the extreme end of the platform. After a minute or so I venture out on the platform to stuff myself with anything labeled as food. The irritating noise of a group of people shouting slogans was heard from the other extreme of the platform. All attentions were drawn to that direction, except a group of people, probably daily wage workers. Under the roof of an unlighted huge shade that looks like an extension of the platform, they were seated on their fouled and stained makeshift beds. They were looking at the much darker corner of the shade that shelters them and I could hear their women folk talking in a high pitched and accented Hindi about the brutality of men in ‘Vardi’ while the men, probably their husbands, repeatedly told them to shut up. This makes me more curious about what they were talking and watching with uninterrupted attention. I listen more attentively in an attempt to figure it out but most of what they said was drowned in the slogans of a group of ungrateful agitating railway workers.

Determined to make sense of what drew their attention to that dark corner, I saw two policemen, one of them forcefully dragging an unwilling figure towards the darker side of the corner from a make-shift bed separately laid far from the rest. The third policeman was shoving, beating, and at times kicking a much smaller and sloppy figure out into the open. They were forcing a small child, who appears to me like a three years old girl, away from the unwilling mother. Though it was dark, I can make out another figure, probably their officer, waiting for the other two to drag in the helpless victim of their lustful designs. Her occasional cries could be overheard faintly but nobody heard her well due to the commotion created by the noisy slogans. While they were forcing them apart, the mother and child desperately hold on to each other. The child, apparently too scared to cry out loud, for a moment manage to cling to her mother but only to be snatched apart.

By now the group of people who were watching them started blaming their ‘Thikadar’ for putting them in such an unholy place, a railway platform but none of them appears bold enough to raise alarm or try helping the hapless mother and child. Judging by their makeshift bed, separated far from the rest, the mother and child must be an outcast or born low caste who somehow tags along with the group they originally belong for mere company or security that they found wanting when needed. The train moves again and I realize I am no different from the people nearby. I could do nothing for those who are forced to the dark corner by criminals and corrupted systems of administrations. In most cases, the society with all its inherent restraints and norms also remains a mute spectator.

<()>

Lost in Jaisalmer

LOST IN JAISALMER
(Inspired by real events)

My first visit to Rajasthan was in the summer of '86. From the start, it was meant to be a memorable journey. Buses were the only means to travel from Imphal to the nearest railway station, Dimapur. For some reason, the youth and sports department failed to release our travel allowances as promised. We only got a typewritten paper stating the purpose of our visit. We waited till the last minute, but when we're sure no financial support is forthcoming, we decided to travel on our own expenses. My hometown police were kind enough to stop a Dimapur bound truck for us. Initially loaded together in the cargo bed of a truck huffing and puffing along a bumpy zig-zag hilly road was fun. When we finally got down at Dimapur, none of us could walk straight. Like drunkards, we walk to the left but end up to the right, literally. Some of us couldn't even stand up.

For somebody who hailed from the cold and pleasant climate of northeast India, it was not easy to anticipate the heat of a desert. We don't have the luxuries of the Internet, Google, digital camera, Smartphone or air-conditioner. The knowledge I acquired about places were the romanticized versions either from cheap textbooks or secondhand narratives of soldiers on leave. Those days, booksellers in this part of the country don't deal with travel guidebooks. In all my ignorance, I pack a sweater in my luggage - a cumbersome and warm woollen garment. Since I took all the trouble to carry it that far, I tried wearing it while travelling in a state transport bus from Barmer to the heart of the Thar desert. Those days buses don't come with air conditioning. I almost dehydrated myself to death. Didn't somebody say the heat of the desert is the opposite at night?

Even though my Hindi was limited to 'ka-kha-ga' and 'a-aa-ee', the boastful youth in me often made me strayed from the group. Eventually, I lost my way in the busy street of Jaisalmer along with a friend who must be equally stubborn or stupid. We were in a situation where no Hindi means no talking. It felt like the whole Jaisalmer refused to talk to us or don't speak English. We approach a white man dressed in a black sadhu gown. Luckily, in American English, he pointed us back to where our bus was parked. We were quite pleased not because he pointed us back but for the fact that an American understood our northeast manufactured English. It took a foreigner to guide Indians in an Indian city. Ironically, the purpose of my visit was about national integration.

On our way back, we decided to take a tour of the national capital, Delhi. We request a known college student, who is now a senior IFS officer, to take us around. From the railway station, we hired Tongas (a light horse-drawn vehicle commonly used those days) and took a grand tour of the capital city. I was proud and felt complete to have the privilege of touring the capital of my country. On the other hand, it must have been quite an unusual sight to see a bunch of chinkies grinning away with their eyes visibly asleep on Tongas. We attracted the attention of almost every passerby.

In our onward journey to Rajasthan, we briefly halted at New Delhi to catch a Rajasthan bound train. I went to the city in a rickshaw, bought a hotshot camera (a pocket-size analogue camera) with sufficient roll films to cover the whole journey. There was no ATM or internet banking. If you don't have enough cash on you or you are pickpocketed, then you are done. I must have taken too little money or spent beyond my means, I ran short of cash on our return journey home. Though I was too ashamed to admit it, my friends came to know about it. They paid for my food, some generously and others grudgingly. I don't blame them. After all, our mission was national integration.

On reaching home, the first thing I did was get the photos printed. Unfortunately, nothing visible came out from the hotshot camera. The camera, which was probably the reason I ran out of cash, friends had to bail me out, and I am not proud of it till these days yields me nothing. I had bought a non-functional camera at the price of a brand new one.

Somebody had spread the rumour that we were lost and never made it to Rajasthan. Our parents were worried to death. We were only a bunch of class 10 and PUC (the equivalent of class 12) passed or appeared or failed age group with no experience of travelling on our own. I am still looking for that rumour monger.

Note: If you laugh or smile at any point of reading this story, please let me know with a comment or reaction. Your response will make me consider myself an accomplished writer of short comedies. 😁😁

CONTRADICTIONS

If compasion is within you,

You'd spared innocent souls. 

If relations come from you, 

You'd built one, not destroy. 

If culture is your way of life, 

Your life would be cultured. 

If piety is your preference, 

Flaws won't be your quality. 

If you know that you know, 

You'd know that you don't. 

Yet you place yourself high, 

Above all that ever existed. 

With free will on your side, 

You became a contradiction, 

Of your own, on your own. 

Boastful of your existence, 

A mere embodiment of flaws, 

You ignore His perfectness, 

For perfection reveals flaws. 

Yet His compassion awaits you 

To find your way back Home.   

---------------xxx-----------------

Wishing You

WISHING YOU 

Before chilly night turns to dawn
Before daylight beckons to chores
Before the heart wanders far away
Before I miss you again and again
May I wish you well once more?
May nights be of sweet dreams
May days be filled with laughter
May your life be of contentment

When the curtain comes down
When the crowd is out of sight
When laughter turns to sadness
When dust is mingled with dust
And they remember you no more
And on the other side, we'll meet
And we shall be together forever

Love Note

A LOVE NOTE

Sure as dawn follows night

My heart longs to be yours

Make me yours, take my soul

Let me die but in your arms

Sure as sunshine after the storm

My being craves for your love

In comfort or agony, I 'll endure 

Let me die but don't let me go

My Mother

MY MOTHER 

She's gentle and sensitive 

But she seldom gives up.

Through ups and downs 

She's always there for us

Bearing the mother's pain

Of labour and raising kids

Of health or mental stress.

Four brothers who made it 

Tougher as we grow older.

The hope she pines on us 

Were tested umpteen times

Not once did she give up on us.

We aren't the easiest kids

Nor the promising kind

Yet she clings on to the hope

Of her kids doing well finally.

Thank God I have a mother 

A mother I could be proud of

Who refuses to give up.

Loneliness

LONELINESS

Lonely and shady is the path

Trees lining up as onlookers

Save for the occasional whips

Of breeze swooshing the leaves

Silence escorts me on and on

As the moon plays hide and seek

I asked where the path leads

All I see is tranquillity in motion

If I wake up from this reality

And there’s a beyond reality

Would it still be this lonesome?

Though drowned in doubts

A certainty remains afloat

When You hold and walk with me

In loneliness, in reality or beyond

You will always be my comfort

Prevail Peace

PREVAIL FOR PEACE

In the woods, no soul dwelled
Where silence is deafening
Footfalls and broken twigs
Hastened the heart and mind
Abides peace I seek elsewhere

Amidst gunshots and wailing
Where noises are deafening
Dawn of peace ever doubtful
Mere survival highly expensive
Sits my home I find nowhere

In deafening noise or silence
Where might seems to be right
Justice be denied or delayed
In fearful whispers or loud cries
Truth 'll prevail for peace to reign

All for Sale

ALL FOR SALE

What good is relation

Based on ethnic lines

What good is religion 

That divides or hates

What good is society

That kills the weaker

What good is politics

That fools the masses

Men's organs for sale

Mom's womb for hire 

Boys for cheap labour 

Girls given to brothels

Innocent people die

Nobody cares or cries

Are we really doomed 

To be mere materials

Everything is for sale 

Not just Kalashnikovs

The mercenaries too

Self-styled extortionists 

And the vote capturers 

And the bandh callers

Babus are now cheaper

But not the politicians

All for the right price 

In a shop called Manipur

Stranger at Home

A STRANGER AT HOME

Ten years ago I left home leaving behind everything dear to me. I spent three long years in a city and a life of struggle trying to secure a future for myself. Not a day passed without the hope or anticipated excitement of returning home to everything and everyone I ever cherished and love. When I finally came home with all the excitements held up deep inside for all those years, the home I long to come back was no longer the same. All the sweet memories are now mere memories of good old days. I found myself a stranger at home because "home sweet home" have become "home strange home".

City of Indians

The City of Indians

You make them grin, you're an idiot
You give them food, you're a fool
You give them love, you're in lust 
You give them shade, you're in shit
You're innocuous, they're poisonous
The paradoxical city of my country
The hunting ground of perverts
Neither of deers nor of wild boars
But for prey in human avataars
In slit eyes and in spiky hairs
In fair skins they'd often bare.
But all delhites aren't scavengers
There're others who care and dare
To keep Delhi the city of Indians
Embracing the northeast Indians

What Remains

What Remains

What remains is the portrait
Of yesterday's careless vows
On the wall of shattered dreams 
Hung pieces of a broken heart

What remains is the echo
Of yesterday's careless words
On the mount of empty promises
Flows the river of forgotten tears

What remain are the memories
Of yesterday’s careless deeds
On the sandstones of myriad hopes
Surge the mighty waves of life

Note: The last stanza is added by Prof. B. Panda

ETHNIC CHANNEL OF WOMEN HEALTH INFORMATION IN RURAL MANIPUR

According to the 2011 census, about 68.8% of India’s population resides in rural areas. About 75% of health infrastructure, medical man power and other health resources are concentrated in urban areas, where about 31.2% of the population resided. It is also said that two-third of the population in the country consists of women of child bearing age and children under the age of fifteen years. This age group is considered to be the vulnerable age group suffering more severely from consequences of socio-economic development. Because of their ignorance of health, hygiene practices, and household responsibilities women tend to neglect their illness till their health problems get aggravated to the extent of becoming too sick to move around and attend to their normal household chores.

The government at the state and central launch a number of health facilities and schemes for women but these health services provided through a network of health workers, government hospitals, dispensaries, and primary health centers do not sufficiently reach the targeted beneficiaries. Consequently, the health schemes remain underutilized by women particularly in rural areas. One main reason for under-utilization of such essential schemes is due to lack of awareness. Lack of awareness also led to negligence and unfair practices that propel the whole systems into total obliteration. When the deficit in awareness has reach endemic proportion, the problem can be solved only with knowledge disseminated through effective information channels. Contrary to the general assumptions, all communication channels are not universally effective. In rural India, the effectiveness of communication channels is significantly decided by socio-cultural backgrounds. If this is the case, identification and usage of the effective channels of the grassroots level is a must. Only such channels will significantly contribute to the effective utilization of health schemes particularly of women in the rural area whose predicaments are further aggravated by various forms of socio-cultural barriers complicating their access to health facilities.

Most technology driven communication mediums are beyond the reach of the rural population in Manipur. The paradox between the necessity to put across government sponsored women health schemes on the one hand and the defective communication channels on the other hand can only be bridge, at this stage, by utilizing the existing ethnic communication channels. Most transaction of information among the ethnic groups in Manipur is largely based on the age old traditional forms of communication. Traditional ethnic communications are fairly simple and cost effective verbal protocols disseminating information through trusted channels. Being based mainly on trust, ethnic bodies like the village council, chiefs, parents, elders, religious heads, friends, persons from the same community and village are still the effective channels of communication. The disseminated information is adopted only if it comes through one of these trusted channels. Among the rural ethnic groups women health is not an individual issue. With decision on women health being taken by way of taking every members of the family into confidence, mere handing down of information to the concerned woman will not yield the desired effects. It is due to this deeply entrenched tradition, the formal institutions like health workers, health center and similar instruments are not capable of making much dent.

Besides the inappropriate forms of existing formal channels, the other mistake committed in the dissemination of woman health in rural Manipur is this failure to regard the unique culture and tradition of the various ethnic groups. The one-size-fits-all approaches of Delhi contribute a lot in decapitating the women health schemes. Fortunately, trusted channels of communication, by word of mouth, across the different ethnic groups are similar in nature and practice. Exploitation of this form of communication, in most likelihood, is the only viable means through which the rural women can be reached.

Women health is a family subject that concerns the community. Decision on women health is not taken individually but through a consensus involving the family and the community. Ethnic communication channels not only ensure reaching rural women with health information but also help in building consensus among all who matters in the process of making decision on the woman of the family. The ethnic communities valued communal consensus and most of the individualistic aspirations that affect the community are considered immoral. The individual is part of the community and community good cannot be sacrifice for the sake of individual good. Such value system calls for a community based approach even when the target is the health of an individual woman. Since individuals are only part of the community, the benefits of the community must be underscored to ensure mass acceptance and adoption. In such distinctive circumstances, the said ethnic channels of communication should be made the de facto standard of communicating women health information among the rural population of Manipur. 

Featured in "Eimi Times", a daily vernacular newspaper on 15th June 2013

CARTOON DEBATE

Dalits are militants,

Brahmins are Hitlers,

The rest are sinners.

Khan is a terrorist,

Mayawati is a fetish,

Politicians are foolish.

Thorat is a toon,

We love the toons,

Kill radicals save the toon.

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT

O sleepless rainy night!
What have thou bear me right?
Thou open these starry eyes
with a weary tiresome mind.

O sleepless rainy night!
What good is a lonesome night?
While kids and kin slept tight,
thy presence stood me upright.

O sleepless rainy night!
What reason beckons at night?
When the candles ceased to light,
let in never-land walk my mind.

O sleepless rainy night!
Less the sun beams the light,
whose eyes can see it right?
Whose eyes will make me smile?

FOR HIS INNOCENT BRIDE

Love takes you to the alter,
Let not love be altered,
Altered love cause you sorrow.
Go and walk past the pew,
Go and wear the ring of vow,
Then they'll bide thee adiew.

People, pigs, feast and gongs
Will mark your silvery gown.
Never to walk in the days gone,
May your sorrows be gone.
As love takes you to new heights,
May your childhood be never nigh.

Showers of affections, blessing,
Tears of joy will come raining.
Their longings finally fulfilled,
Long after life spans are filled.
Dad's li'l girl now walks the pew
On her own to take her final vow.

THE HOPELESS TRIANGLE OF MANIPUR

The triangulation of communal politics in Manipur will always bring any two communities opposing any one community or vice versa creating a vicious circle with no permanent relationship in the process. Any issue, political or petty, significant or silly, will set this vicious circle of communal intolerance in motion but ironically, at one point in time or the other one among the communities would be found sleeping with the "enemy", much too often for comfort. As long as this triangular equation exists with opposing communal aspirations, nothing can be done without harming the interest of the other community. As in a geometrical triangle, change in the degree of one angle will always affect the degree of the remaining angles of the triangle. There is no room for any external agency to solve the dilemma. Not even the best political mind in Delhi can be of help. The aspiration of any single community resulting in the perceived favor or against the other community is an absolute truth that can be stated with mathematical accuracy.

How long will these major communities remain purposefully blind to the hopeless situation and continue to insist on the path to gain political mileages at the cost of their fellow communities? The solution to the enigmatic plight, if at all desired, lies largely in the hands of the communities themselves. Contrary to the popular believe, no external agent is going to fix this equation even if we raze the state down to ashes as the Taliban did to Afghanistan. Such realization did not materialize because the triangulation is not a perfect one. The imperfection in the triangulation is seen in the form of several associated advantages like geographical, population, administrative or even brute forces. The advantages associated with each community are exploited to the fullest and used as the bargaining chip to gain out of any given issue. This is how might comes to play leading to the emergence of the communal forces.

Slogans, bans, strikes and the likes in favor or against one community or the other are not doing us any good. While readily accepting India's democratic form of governance, it is amazing how soon we ignore the fact that in a democratic state our voices will be heard only through the election process. This legitimate form of protest is realized, probably, by one community who failed to gain much out of it mainly because of the intention to benefit in isolation. The truth is no community in isolation is going anywhere as long as the opposing pulls are not compromised. High time the people of Manipur irrespective of conflicting communal interests rise to the occasion and serve the interest of all. Unless of course we are hell bent on dooming our future, our children's future and their children's future for the sake of the preset mindless communal competition.

For so many years, governance is found wanting in many parts of the state. Be it law and order or development or administration, the presence or absence of a government does not make much difference leading to the general perceptions, suppose to be in favor of the government, shifting steadily towards social organizations and pressure groups championing the cause of a particular community. In a triangulated community, such trend is bound to result in impossible consequences. In due course of time the situation gets murkier and uglier. The pace further gets accentuated with the only external agent, the central government, interested only in playing carrot and stick in its effort to put a particular brand of government in power at any cost.

To dissipate the imbroglios, certain things should be undone. To begin with, a firm political will free of communal prejudices ensuring an equally advantaged society is of paramount necessity. The exploitation of communal strength can only be checked by balancing the strength of the communities, in other words empowering the weaker community. The establishment of equally capable communities automatically neutralized communal forces which tend to show up in its pursuit to exploit the weaknesses of the other. The associated advantages tilted towards a particular community should not be allowed to remain disadvantageous to the other communities. Introduction of alternative infrastructure equally accessible to all the communities should be used to eliminate the biased advantages. While introducing checks and balances, the mass must not be ignored. No matter how far flung or scatter the mass may be, they should be educated in the nitty-gritty of voicing their concerns in a democratic way while ensuring their rights to participate in the democratic process. Beside these indicative pointers, the presence of governance can be ensured in so many other ways. The only hiccup to bring in such positive changes is the political will to bring governance even to the remotest part of the state and end the imperfect communal triangle.

______________________

The author is Dr. P. Hangsing, Assistant Professor, North-Eastern Hill University, Shillong – 703022.
Featured in the english daily "The Sangai Express" on the 28th May 2013

A WISTFUL THOUGHT

Even in wistful moments
It's unbearable to imagine
Leaving you and all of you.
How in reality can I ever
Say adios without the pain,
Piercing right through me.
You know how fond I am
Of your wet lips and kisses.
How fond I have grown
Ever-since I set eye on you.
Friends, foes, come and go
But I pledge to stand firm
By you like your mounds.
Till the last taxi departs,
Your clouds blown away,
It rain last in Mawsynram,
I'll hold on with dear life
To love and cherish you
As mine and mine alone.
You my beloved Shillong.

REMEMBER

********************************
Remember? That first walk together,
those few steps leading to enthused hopes,

and the stolen glances along the way.
So clearly spoken in meaningful gestures,
feelings so firm, so secure, so new and real,
when doubts were too silly and illusory.

Remember? The walk in the abandoned lane
where memories came alive along the way.
Wild roses now lining the crumbled steps.
Do you wander alone into the ruined dreams?
The beaten path to the past nothing
that make you yearn for one last glimpse.

Remember? The decayed portrait of love birds,
poorly painted, poor man's gift lovingly placed,
dotted in tear-drops and left on the wall.
Do you feel deprived and disillusioned?
Comforted in meaningless words of the past
penned and immortalized in silly love letters.

*********************************

A SONG FOR THE HILL-BILLY

Softly down the blue hills flow, 
side to side ‘midst the hamlets, 
kissing bye the smoky huts, 
down the green valley flows, 
tears for love long long ago.

Steamy eyes, cheerless hearts, 
soiled fingers strum the strings.
In raucous voice came the song, 
with country brew scented breaths, 
flows the cry in futile echo. 

Every meadow, every stone, 
every memory bleeds the heart.
All came alive at every moon, 
killing me slow but a sure dead.
But for the pain I will go on.

In baritone these songs of Jimmy, 
touch hearts beyond ethnicity.
Pleading us to shun depravity 
yet begging us to see humanity 
in the hills I call my county.