Special Issue: Writing Shillong

Caught Somewhere in Time

Early Bengali Influences in the Commercial Heart of Shillong

Rahul Saikia

The fourth and final article on this forum has been written by the author of the present introduction, and is entitled ‘Caught Somewhere in Time - Early Bengali influences in the commercial heart of Shillong’. 

1. Introduction:

Police Bazaar or ‘PB’ – is the main commercial centre of Shillong. To begin with, the bazaar may be visualized as an elongated mountain of concrete buildings and business establishments crammed within a network of crowded streets and narrow alleyways. Walking through the main street, one is dwarfed under a canyon of untidy buildings, and assailed by long lines of fellow pedestrians and persistent hawkers. Residents have come to look upon such crowded scenes as proof of the hill-station becoming ‘unbearable’ and ‘bursting at the seams’.

Fig. 1

Drawing its name from the nearby police station, Police Bazaar was born in 1864, and is old as the ‘hill-station’ itself. It grew slowly with the arrival of Bengali and Marwari traders whose ‘general stores’ were initially patronized by British soldiers and officers. In 1874, Shillong became the capital of the new province of Assam. As the town grew into an important centre of colonial administration, the marketplace started to expand. Starting from the first decades of the 20^th century, a string of different communities - Sindhis, Punjabis, Pathans, Chinese, and later, Tibetans – all arrived to start businesses in the area. Coming into the present century, a handful of large Khasi businesses have also emerged onto the scene, while recent developments point to a spurt of investments coming into market from the coal rich Jaintia Hills. Apart from these ‘business families’ there have always been countless others; coolies, cooks and construction workers, many of whom ‘have long since disappeared, as silent as shadows.’ 

While all these communities have shaped the market in various ways, this article attempts to look at the prominent historical presence of some early Bengali business families in the area. Prior to 1947, this community held a dominant position within the emerging commercial landscape of the marketplace. Apart from owning much of the prime land and real estate within the bazaar, they were also pioneers in the fields of trade and transportation. Today however, this position of early prominence has given way to an ambiguous sense of decline laced with continuity. While some of the old business families still continue to have important business concerns in the area, they have mostly been overshadowed by the phenomenal success of other communities like the Marwaris and the Sindhis.

From a tiny cluster of wooden structures about a century ago, the market has since grown into a concrete and glass jungle. Seen through the crowded prism of the present moment, these early Bengali influences emerge as a series of traces, disappearances, memories and continuities, all embedded within the larger contemporary landscape of Police Bazaar. These ‘stories in the landscape’ communicate the different experiences of the old Bengali community in ‘PB’ ranging from tales of complete effacement to those of successful continuity.

2. Traces, Memories and Disappearances:

Fig. 2

There are traces. At the western edge of Police Bazaar, the eyes of the visitor are drawn onto the expansive first-floor remains of what used to be ‘The Grand Hotel’. Even as the crumbling façade waits to be torn down, the intricate lattice work below the windows is still intact. The structure was once part of the erstwhile prosperous house of ‘NK Bhattacharjee and company’, which operated the popular Shillong-Sylhet bus service for several years in the 1920’s. Looking up at the dilapidated structure, one wonders if ‘NKB’ was trying to import some of that old colonial charm from those larger contemporary trading houses in Calcutta. This once successful business family seems to no longer have a presence in the area, and I am forced to look elsewhere to find out more. This leads me to the residence of Mr. Afzal Hossain; who lives in a large Assam type house located on the outer fringes of PB.

Fig. 3

It is cloudy outside, and inside there are memories. Upon entering the house, I am shown into the main sitting room. Entering again, I find myself in a spacious room that emerges more like a small provincial museum. The walls are covered with an array of framed black and white photographs (both large and small). Hanging next to one of the larger photographs, is an old iron lantern, put up there for display. Immediately below, is a long shelf of books entitled mostly in Bengali. Adjacent to the bookshelf, an old gramophone sits silently atop a small table. With the sound of raindrops on the roof above, and a large portrait of Tagore watching us from the background, Mr Hossain begins to narrate his family’s history in Shillong.

Afzal Hossain’s ‘great-great grandfather’ – Golam Hyder Ali – opened the first shop in Police Bazaar way back in 1864. This ‘departmental store’ was first located right at the centre of marketplace, and would have initially been surrounded by forests in every direction. There would have been a small path outside the wooded store, which would have led westwards to the traditional Khasi market of Iewduh, and up eastwards to the newly established sanitarium home for British soldiers.  In 1887, Golam Hyder’s son, the late Haji Kasimuddin Molla, introduced and operated the first Tonga Service on the Shillong-Guwahati road.  Later in 1906, Kasimuddin also became the first to introduce an automobile service on the same route. His son, Mowla Buksh went on to become a respected contractor who played an important role in developing the town’s Golf-Links. 

Each of these pioneer endeavors is not only narrated to me, but also commemorated through the photographs on the walls. There is a picture of ‘Golam Hyder’s Departmental’ store with a tag reading ‘established in 1864’. On the opposite wall is a much larger group photograph which highlights the automobile service. It features Kasimuddin and his family, surrounded by an entourage of drivers, and flanked by two vintage automobiles (‘Rani’ and ‘Maharani’). I am then told that the ‘iron lantern’ that hangs next to the image was used in one of the earlier Tongas which preceded the automobile service.

My attention is then directed to a line of three photo-portraits which are hanging high up on the adjacent wall. With the trio looking down at me, I am told their names – ‘Kasimuddin’ (every bit the pioneer with his flaming white beard, fierce eyes and stern posture), his son ‘Mowla Buksh’ (with that refined appearance carried by certain Indian princes of the Raj), and finally, the almost semi-formal portrait of ‘Aulad Hossain’ (smiling generously and seeming much more relaxed than his predecessors). It is interesting how the visual elements of dress, posture and facial appearances, change from one generation to the next; so that when all the three portraits are viewed in quick succession, one can trace the transformation of a ‘traditional business family’ into an established and comfortable business house.

There is one last photograph that catches my eye –it is an old picture of ‘Police Bazaar point’ taken sometime in the 1940’s. The point itself is almost deserted except for a few vehicles parked next to a large Assam type structure that is crowned with an immense octahedral tin spire. I am told that the structure belonged to ‘Jamatullah and sons’ which housed the then famous ‘Shillong Tailoring Store’. Next to Jamatullah’s is another wooden store which was ‘Abdul Gaffur’s Pharmacy’. Like the erstwhile ‘Golam Hyder Departmental Store’ (see below), neither of the two structures have survived into the present. 

Fig. 4

While the Golam Hyder departmental store closed down in the 1930s, much of the family’s considerable land holdings were subsequently nationalized after Independence.

Seen through the lenses of the contemporary moment, these preserved memories offer a window into a world that no longer exists. To an extent, these ‘disappearances’ in the landscape point towards a trajectory of decline with regards to some of the older Bengali business families in the area. As mentioned earlier, this sense of decline becomes all the more acute when compared to the relative success of other communities within the contemporary landscape. Some of the reasons for this ‘decline’ may be listed here – (a) the overwhelming competition from the Marwaris, (b) the effects of Partition, Nationalization and the anti-Bengali riots of 1979, and (c) a certain cultural preference for ‘professional careers’ over ‘family business’.  Keeping in mind the constraints of the word limit, and wishing not to get into the controversial soup of identity politics at this stage, the present article briefly touches upon only the last of these above mentioned ‘causes’.  

3. Context and Continuity:

While the narrative of decline captures an important aspect of the older Bengali businesses in the area, it is not the only trend at work here. Another important and counter-balancing trend for a large section of the community is the strong preference for professional jobs and the lure of the intelligentsia.

Within such a cultural context, the pressure for subsequent generations to remain within the family business is not as strong as compared to other traditional trading communities like the Marwaris. So even as Afzal Hossain may not be a ‘pioneer businessman’ like his forefathers, his present status as a ‘theatre baron’ and a devoted social worker[1] might even be seen as an advancement for the family legacy – progressing from the narrow confines of profit to the more respected fields of cultural patronage and humanitarian work. Seen from this perspective; the ‘trajectory of decline’ finds itself inverted rather quickly.

There are traces and memories, and then there are ‘continuities’. Caught somewhere in time, between the disappearances and cultural preferences, these continuities are best reflected in a small handful of old Bengali businesses which are still operating in Police Bazaar today. Within this small group, there are specifically two enterprises; the ‘Shillong Medical Stores’ (est. 1919) and the ‘Chapala Bookstore’ (1936), which stand out with regards to the question of cultural preferences. Ever since their inception, the respective core businesses of both these establishments (i.e. medicine and literature) have remained unchanged. Put in another way, it is precisely the nature of their specializations, centered on the ‘highly cultured’ fields of medicine and academic literature, which have allowed the two enterprises to survive for so long.  It could perhaps be said that the allure and duty of ‘cultural significance’ has allowed successive generations to continue in the faithful service of both these businesses.

Fig.5

In 1919, the late Dr.Pulin Bihari Dey started ‘Shillong Medical Stores’ as a clinic and a pharmacy. For the next 25 years till his death in 1944, the doctor continued to treat his patients at the clinic. Today, his grandson, Mr. Proteek Deb sits in the pharmacy; while the chamber is manned by a doctor from outside the family. In 1953, the original wooden structure was gutted in a fire, after which the Assam government helped the family to rebuild the store as ‘Pulin Bhavan’. Since then, the first-floor of the building has witnessed a succession of governmental influences – housing the Accountant General’s office, followed by the Central Excise office, and supplanted finally by the Oriental Insurance Company.

Fig. 6

This juxtaposition of various private and governmental influences is most clearly evident in the building that houses the ‘Chapala Bookstore’. Looking past the clutter of signboards and crumbling paint on the façade, the structure still carries a distinctively modern appearance – even when compared to the new malls and multiplexes that are converging all around it. The building itself dates back to 1901, when it was opened to the public as the ambitious ‘Shillong Banking Corporation’; subsequently going bust in 1920. Until 1954, the top floor of the building was home to the ‘Assam Library’ – the precursor to the state central library. At present, the structure is owned by a Khasi businessman, and the tenants include two Bengali businesses (i.e. Chapala and Arun Hotel) along with a Marwari medical distributorship.

From early colonial influences and governmental interventions, to the successful continuities of Marwari and Bengali businesses, and finally onto the increasing local presence in the commercial area – the building seems to embody a range of larger forces which have shaped the present landscape of Police Bazaar.  In the same manner that Chapala Bookstores carries on in the company of cultural influences both old and new; so it is with the rest of the older Bengali businesses in the area, as they find themselves juxtaposed within an increasingly changing commercial landscape.

For the few other remaining businesses, the contemporary mass market has long since spilled into the spaces of their shops. Located on the ground floor of a grainy old building is one such enterprise, where the walls are lined with a variety of home accessories; pressure cookers, electric sewing machines and blenders, which then finally give way, to a small preserved section right at the end of the shop. Here, the marching stacks of gleaming products seem to halt out of respect for the elderly man who sits behind a table as he stares intently through a set of magnifying lenses to fix an old wristwatch. He tells me that entry of mobile phones has dealt a huge blow to the wristwatch market, and that his family was forced to diversify into retail appliances before it became too late. Above him hangs a collection of old antique clocks with the outer glass panels all misty and golden with time. The dials on these clocks have all stopped at different hours and minutes on different days and years – reminding me of all those past endeavors and cultural influences that persist into the present landscape of Police Bazaar.

---

[1] In 2012, both Mr. Hossain and his brother were felicitated by the Bangladesh Government for their humanitarian work during the 1971 War of Liberation. The two brothers carried out relief work at border camps and took the lead in cremating fallen freedom fighters. 

Acknowledgement:
Ankush Saikia for the 1^st photograph (Follow his photographs at http://instagram.com/ankushsaikia)

Author's Bio- Note:

Rahul Saikia is a M.Phil research scholar at the Department of Geography, Delhi School of Economics. 

Special Issue: Writing Shillong

                                

  SHILLONG

THE MAKING AND UNMAKING OF A COSMOPOLITY

   Binayak Dutta

In this article, ‘Shillong: The Making and Unmaking of a Cosmopolity’, Binayak Dutta charts out a contemporary history of Shillong, tracing its evolution from a colonial undertaking with strong cosmopolitan traits that subsequently collapsed under the weight of communal strife in the post-colonial era. 

Fig.1: A photograph of the old assembly building in Shillong (1948)

INTRODUCTION:

When Captain Lister of the Sylhet Light Infantry was given the charge of the Khasi and Jaintia Hills District, the head quarters was located at Cherrapunjee. By 1854, the Khasi Hills was placed under an Assistant Commissioner for civil functions and the East India Company Government ordered the shifting of the district headquarters from the Cherrapunjee to the valley of Yeodo. Weather conditions combined with immense economic potential to arouse Colonial interests on these Hills within a very short time. But despite its pleasant surroundings, incessant rains made Cherrapunjee too wet for the health and comfort of the British soldiers and officers, stationed there. This set off the search for a new station that could serve as the headquarters of the district beyond the limitations of a mere military sanatorium.

MAKING THE COSMOPOLITAN HEAVEN CALLED SHILLONG:

The desire to have an all season communication between Cherrapunjee and Guwahati helped to justify the importance of Shillong in colonial perceptions. The outbreak of the Jaintia Rebellion in 1860 rattled the European minds and there was a tearing hurry to locate an area and establish a safe military base, secure from insurrection. Therefore, as H.K. Barpujari observes, “[I]n early 1866, the headquarters of the Regiment and the office of the Deputy Commissioner were transferred to Shillong and Yedo…” The new civil station was located “between the then existing Khasi villages of Mawkhar and Laitumkhrah…” Therefore the origin of the town of Shillong could only be traced to colonial intervention in these hills. It is interesting to record the observation of scholar- administrator R.T. Rymbai that “ there was no settled habitation, known by the name of Shillong till the British came to select the said valley  as their headquarters in 1864…” and that there were only a few scattered villages in this valley known by the name of Laban, Mawkhar, Laitumkhrah, etc.”

To the colonial mind, the new station was designed to serve the needs of increasing number of European officers in the Brahmaputra Valley and Cachar. In a letter written to the Secretary to the Government of Bengal in 1862, Brigadier General G. D. Showers, the Commissioner of the Khasi and Jaintia Hills was candid in pointing out that the station, would, “… introduce an intercourse with the native inhabitants which would fix their loyalty,…” Loyalty was an important component of the European quest in post Revolt era; more so with the outbreak of the rebellion in the Jaintia Hills in 1860.

Therefore, Shillong, unlike most of the other hill stations, was to facilitate the ends of European colonial commercial interests of drawing “out the commercial resources” and serve as a site for interaction between these European officers and the Indian people. The desire of the colonial state, in the language of Brigadier General G. D. Showers, was to encourage the settlement of residents at Shillong, beyond the ends of a mere ‘weather retreat’. The government was thus impelled to “encourage European settlers and invalids” to set up offices and establishments which “would attract trade and population and call out more rapidly the resources of the district….” Therefore, despite being established on a tribal land, the station was conceived as a cosmopolitan zone. With the constitution of Assam into a province of colonial India, under a Chief Commissioner, Shillong was made the capital of the new province. This administrative reorganization along with the decision of the colonial state to make Cachar and Sylhet, predominantly Bengali districts a part of the new province only contributed to consolidate the capital’s cosmopolitan character as people from the Assam valley and these districts came to join government service and relocate themselves in the capital town. The seed of Shillong’s cosmopolitanism was embedded in its colonial character.

Thus, besides the Khasis, to whom these lands belonged, the first settlers in this station were the European officers who negotiated with the local Khasi chiefs to acquire lands, construct and expand the colonial cosmopolitan station of Shillong. These European officers located themselves in bungalows on the Secretariat Hill overlooking the Wards Lake; what was called the ‘European Quarters’ an area encircled by the Bivar Road. The first step towards expansion of the ‘Station’ was the establishment of a small market started near the police station. The ‘Thana Road’ came to form the core of Police Bazar, as the area came to be known. Following the European administrators came the Bangla speaking people, from the different districts of Bengal, who served as the clerical staff in the colonial administration.  The Bengali settlement in Shillong was coterminous with the “shifting of the administrative headquarters of the District from Cherrapunjee to Shillong in 1864. K.D. Saha in his study on Shillong observes that, “Reportedly at the time of construction of the District Headquarters in Shillong, 14 Bengali employees were brought from Cherrapunjee to the site for clerical work and were allotted land on Jail Road for settlement. Majority of them were Hindus and from Sylhet, particularly northern Sylhet, and a few fom other districts, namely from Nadia, Santipur, Jessore, Commilla (Tipperah) and Dacca.”Till about 1897, the Bengalis predominated as the “native employees of the government”. The Bengalis also dominated in business and enterprise. Bengali Muslims came from “Hooghly District” and “started their careers as enterprising businessmen.” A major part of commerce including the business of transport was in their hands. While the Bengali clerks established their habitation in the Jail Road, Thana Road and Laban, the Bengali businessmen came about to concentrate their holdings around ‘Police Bazar’ and Laban. By 1920s the Bengalis also came to establish their houses in other localities of Shillong such as Jaiaw, Mawkhar, Laitumkhrah and Nongthymmai. But they were not the only non-tribe who contributed to construct the multi-ethnic space of Shillong.

The Assamese community also developed substantial holdings in Shillong. In the last decade of the nineteenth century, as Prafulla Misra observes, “ there were not more than  30 to 35 Assamese residents in Shillong, almost all were government servants…” The Assamese people engaged in government service hailed from Upper Assam as they were the hardest hit by the colonial rule and abolition of the paik system. It was only in the twentieth century that people from Lower Assam came to join their counterparts from Upper Assam and join government service. Migration of the Assamese to Shillong accelerated with the creation of the composite state of Assam after 1947, when “Assamese representation in the bureaucracy was enhanced.”  But they were energetic, creative and culture conscious. The Assamese settlement in Shillong was initially located in Laban and its vicinity. Therefore Bishnupur and Malki were areas that witnessed the proliferation of Assamese houses. Subsequent holdings were acquired in Lachumiere, Oakland and Laitumkhrah. In 1896, the Assam Club was formed and started functioning from a rented house in Laban. The cultural and social life of the Assamese community in Shillong centered around this club. The Nepalis were perhaps the earliest settlers of Shillong, whose arrival into the colonial district headquarters could be traced to the movements of the colonial army. Therefore the history of the movement of the Sylhet Light Infantry and the 8^th Gorkha Rifles are also the story of Nepalese migration into Shillong. Closely associated with the colonial military establishment, Nepalese settlements have been close to the European Cantonments in Shillong. The Gorkha Pathshala School established in 1876 was one of the oldest schools in this region to cater to the children of Army personnel. Here, the helpers and attendants of the British officers who were given elementary education through “the medium of Nepali language.” The Marwaris engaged primarily in business and the Biharis engaged in various dimensions of the service industry such as milk vending, hair cutting, cobbling, butchery, laundering and loaf-selling, were other major components of this cosmopolity.

Fig.2: A view over Shillong (1948) – The early ‘cosmopolitan heaven’ of Shillong was forged through a range of diverse cultural influences which included the efforts of communities like the British, the local Khasis, Bengalis, Assamese, Nepalis, Marwaris and Biharis.

By the turn of the twentieth century, Shillong became, as historian David Reid Syiemlieh was to observe, “a cosmopolitan town with a mixed population of locals, Europeans(administrators, tea planters and others who settled here on retirement), an increasing element of Bengalis who staffed the offices, Nepali crofters, enterprising Marwari traders and a small segment of other communities.”

THE COLLAPSE OF THE COSMOS:

The struggle for a hill state subsequently named Meghalaya also witnessed a close cooperation between the Tribal leaders and the non-Tribal elite, especially the Bengalis. Stories about the Bengali trade unionists operating in the various central government offices having facilitated the meeting between the then prime minister and the Hill State leaders still feature in grass-root nontribal narratives. But within a short time since the realization of statehood, relations soured between the tribes and the non-tribes. The Hill State was perceived as a haven for the protection of the Tribes, who constituted more than eighty percent of the population. If the Census is an indicator then there is no doubt that between 1971 and 1991, the tribal population of Shillong has increased from 41.47% to 53.13% while in the same period, the non-Tribal population has declined from 58.53% to 46.87%. Mistrust gave way to diatribe and diatribe to violence reflected in major conflagrations.

The first violent engagement came principal in 1979, where the Bengalis were identified as the principal adversaries. This was followed by the conflict with the Nepalis, who were viewed as the new adversaries in 1987 and then came the clash with the Biharis in 1992.  While the cause for these riots could be contested, there could be little disagreement that these three major conflagrations and many minor ethnic clashes, ensured the collapse of cosmopolitan Shillong.

The magnitude of violence had a decisive impact on non-Tribal minds. If the B. N. Sharma Commission Report on the 1992 Riots is to be followed, then 34 persons of the Non-Tribal communities lost their life in 1979 alone. According to the reported cases, the number of wounded was as many as 145, the number of Shops and establishments looted were about 225, as many as 9 houses were gutted and 50 partially damaged by arson, number of families evicted were 143 and number of displaced were 1500 scattered in 6 camps. The Riots of 1979 started the Anti- Foreigners agitation in Meghalaya when the local Member of Parliament opposed the demand of some of the non-tribal civil society organizations for rehabilitation of the riot displaced. For the first time, the slogan, “REFUGEES ARE ‘FOREIGN NATIONALS’” resonated in Shillong after the formation of Meghalaya. The anti foreigners agitations have formed the core of any anti Non-Tribal movement in Shillong ever since.  According to the Sharma Commission Report,  the conflict between the local Tribals and the Non-Tribals had became a regular feature since 1979 and in the decade 1981-1991, as many as 100 non Tribals had lost their lives to sporadic ethnic conflicts. Casualties have been recorded on the side of the Tribals as well. But these have been of a comparatively smaller number. Violence gave way to more violence and became causes to justify further ethnic polarizations and conflicts. In 1992, the number of Tribals who lost their lives was 3, while as many as 27 non-tribals were killed as a result of this riot.   

Fig.3: Photograph of Jail Road in 1948: The area became a major Bengali colony starting with the arrival of clerks from Bengal who accompanied the British administrators into the hills; joining them in the endeavor of creating Shillong. As the hill-station grew, the localities Jail Road, Laban and Thana Road emerged as predominantly Bengali localities. The subsequent riots of 1979 did much to destroy the Bengali community’s idea of a cosmopolitan Shillong.

But these riots were not without a pre-history. The antecedents of this conflict could be traced to the politics of the closing years of colonial rule. Conflict was endemic to the colonial construction of empowerment of ‘natives’ through the introduction of western education, a process that was not uniform and highly irregular. In the Khasi and Jaintia hills, western missions and private initiatives competed with and complimented each other to establish educational institutes which became the breeding ground for the Khasi elite. This education and culture contributed to the emergence of native elites who began to participate in the political life of colonial Assam. The gradual introduction of democracy with qualified representative politics in colonial Assam along with the other provinces engendered an aspiration among these elites to have a share in offices and participate in politics after the implementation of the Government of India Act 1935. But it also sowed the seeds for disturbing the communal harmony in Shillong. Non tribals were generally ‘fence sitters’, generally casting their lot with the Congress, “throwing marginal support in favour of Khasi candidates.” In 1938, their support ensured the elevation of MacDonald Kharkongor as the president of the District Congress Committee. S.K. Chaube, the author of Hill Politics in North East India points out that the non-tribals probably acquired an adversarial role by default. In the elections of January 1946, Nichols-Roy, a Congress man, emerged victorious over MacDonald Kharkongor. This election was a watershed in tribal-nontribal relations as it definitely turned a part of the articulate Khasi elite and the traditional chiefs who supported MacDonald Kharkongor against the Bengalis, who were the largest of the non-tribal community in colonial Shillong. The conflict was between two tribal elites, MacDonald Kharkongor, the president of the District Congress Committee and  Rev. J.J. M. Nichols-Roy, who ultimately succeeded in securing the Congress ticket in the elections of 1946. MacDonald Kharkongor, denied the Congress ticket, founded the Hill Union with a demand for a hill state. But along with that demand came a diatribe loaded with “communal hatred towards the second largest community in Shillong, namely the Bengalis (from Sylhet)… and had now voted for Nichols-Roy.” This election began the age of Tribal-Nontribal conflicts in Shillong.  

The partition of India and the transfer of Sylhet to East Pakistan led to the migration and settlement of a large number of lakhs of east Bengali migrants in Shillong. A new batch of Bengalis settled in Shillong.  Post colonial state of Assam with Shillong as the capital also attracted the settlement of the Assamese. But they were successful in developing a better relationship with the tribes. The birth of the Indian Constitution and the formation of mechanisms of constitutional protectionism reignited the tension between the tribes and the non tribes in the hills. Constitutional institutions set up to safeguard the interest of the tribes were often perceived as opportunities to convert these tribal areas into exclusive zones of tribal hegemony. Cosmopolitanism was the first casualty in the practice of constitutional protectionism in these hills. As the headquarters of the post-colonial state of Assam, Shillong became the focal point of this new brand of politics.

Therefore, when the District Council for united Khasi and Jaintia Hills was inaugurated on the 27^th of June, 1952, a Black Flag Demonstration was held in protest of the inclusion of some ‘Dkhars’ (foreigners in Khasi Language) in the Council. Non-tribals who traced their origin in the hills to the early days of colonial rule found their position challenged as Anti-Dkhar agitations came out into the public for the first time. Hill areas came to be marked on ethnic lines as exclusive zones and multi-ethnicity was viewed as transgressions of community spaces. Violence was viewed as legitimate means to homogenize geo-political and social spaces, in the name of protection of community interests. In the Hill areas, tribal interests have been recognized as paramount, to the detriment of the other communities that had shared these spaces with the tribals for more than a century.

CONCLUSION:

These conflicts, over the last seventy years have only reinforced the forces of exclusion and hatred. Thus one can only agree with the perception that the “old mixing up of the society amongst different races, creeds and ethnic groups has also reduced to a large extent be it in the fields of education, social functions or in service. Mutual love and respect waned to a great extent.

While different ethnic groups drifted apart, the administration took certain steps to sow the seeds for all subsequent onslaughts that was seen in this long held peaceful heaven of Shillong.” Today, while Shillong moves surely and rapidly towards becoming a local metropolis as the capital of Meghalaya; it is surely also a sad marker of the demise of its own cosmopolity.

  

Author's Bio- Note:

 Binayak Dutta teaches History in the North-Eastern Hill University.

Special Issue: Writing Shillong

A Very Brief Foreword on the Shillong Writing Scene

Abner Pariat

The theme of cultural production continues into the present piece entitled ‘A very brief foreword on the Shillong writing scene’ written by Abner Pariat, in which he discusses the dangers of class and culture based exclusions within the newly emerging niche space of succesfull ‘English writers’ coming out of Shillong. 

We are now at a stage when we should earnestly talk about a Shillong canon. Enough time and creativity has passed through (and from) this hill-station. From the outset though, precautions must be raised because our goal should not be to make this canon “exclusivist” or to establish one standard for writing from this place. One problem with many canons - Western or otherwise - is that they tend towards discrimination between high and low, between popular and elite art forms. A canon can be used to formalise personal bias, thereby making it seem authoritative and definitive. The goal of this foreword is merely to muse upon those writers belonging to, coming from Shillong (or Meghalaya, more correctly); those writings either about our cultures or experiences (whether reflecting or fracturing them). In this instance, I seek to analyse, not to rate.

There is a change in the atmosphere of Shillong. There is no denying the social aims of this new batch of young potentials. What characterizes this generation are the numbers. Never before, have we witnessed such large numbers of Shillong youth venturing outwards to carve niches for themselves. In so many ways, they are a brave set because they refuse to let a not-so-small matter of ‘where you’re from’ stand in the way.  One feels they would be as comfortable in Shillong as in Delhi or London. This, perhaps, is their strength in this age – their ability to take indigenous sensibility and couple it with the westernised worldview that they grew into. A worldview taught and strengthened first in the non-vernacular schools (which now are the rule), and later engendered and personalised by American films and culture.  

In the world of our parents, knowing how to read and speak English was a symbol of prestige; it denoted your education and afforded mobility up the social stairway. Nor can I claim otherwise, even today. Outside the middle and upper class, English is still a much sought-after hope. English, after all, means power. Once it was the language of the British bureaucrats and was then handed over to the Indian babus. Amidst the chaos of Partition, accession, insurrections, English has been constant. Within the Shillong upper-middle class, it has become customary, mandatory even, to use English with proficiency and wit for a range of situations, it has become second-nature for many tribal people residing in urban places.

For our parents, self wholly constituted of global parts was a remote idea. The internet and cable TV have helped speed up the globalising process. And after all, our own relations were from the older ways of being, i.e. from and of the village, so the posturing in European garb and mien were not entirely convincing. Change was slow and resistance quick to keep pace with it. A delicate reconciliation with tradition, with old people was necessary. Now, the old folks are dead or dying and the posturing-programming is imposed upon the children completely, who often take it in uncritically.  

Above all else, the younger people are thoroughly professional. They know what they must do to attain what they want. They desire. And, perhaps, it is not unhealthy, not at the moment anyway, not at this start. With increasing interest, I have noticed a small Renaissance flower here in these hills. In the last two years, we have had a bevy of films, have had considerable musical success as our bands and choirs spread out, we have also had a resurgent visual arts culture and emerging autuers committed to writing. And it is to this that we now turn.

Many people, I am sure, would not make too much of an issue if I point to the breakthrough success of Lunatic in my Head by Anjum Hassan as a major touchstone in the recognition of a Shillong canon. Let us not forget though, that there have always been people writing in this culture since the introduction of the Roman script here (some 200 odd hundred years ago). Perhaps, it is better put in this way, that Anjum Hassan was the first writer in English, to breakthrough to mainstream success, hailing from Shillong. She has managed to capture the imagination of both the reading and writing public. She is important because she ignited the imaginations of the current generation about the possibility of self-expression. For all our English loving ways, we had to wait for a fairly long time for a writer of this criterion to be heard. Considering our ‘privileged’ status as Scotland of the East, we’ve had to wait for a while for someone to show the difference between syntax and story. To enter into “polite” society, correct syntax is somewhat of a prerequisite for admission. Often the English might make no sense at all, it might be mundane, boring but if the tenses are observed and grammar proper, all the rest can be forgiven. The repetition of the rules rather than originality of thought have a strong hold on expression. It is like we have an invisible ‘White’ schoolmaster, looking over our shoulders, whose approval we long for.

Since Anjum Hassan, we have witnessed a slew of promising energetic writers come out. Apart from the many poets, some of the prose writers that come to mind as I write this are Mimlu Sen, Janice Pariat, Ankush Saikia. Each one of these writers is nuanced, writing in markedly different styles. They are all united, however, in that they write of the urban Shillong and that they all write in English. These two features are indicative of their class perspective. The danger of recollecting memories into writings is if we tend to think they are devoid of class considerations. Places, tales, happenings are seen through such lenses. The medium too denotes a certain privilege. These new writers point to a healthy creativity in our society but it is a problematic creativity. It runs the risk of becoming irrelevant to anyone but a certain group of people. In relating tales of a Shillong to an outside audience, longing to glimpse ways of being from here, writers run the risk of being exploitative even – perpetuating a pseudo-tribalism, exaggerating false anxieties, expressing a Romantic “noble savage” existence which might not even exist in the lives of people. Writing about the North East along the lines of the “girl, gun, guitar” stereotype is to belittle its multiple complexity and complex multiplicities.

One cannot really blame these writers for writing in this manner because they grew up with it, they were taught it from infancy. The callousness of various governmental and social organizations has led to this privileging of English over the vernaculars in the state. Some might argue that many of the writers in Shillong are non-tribals, or from other places, but a quick look at the history of Khasi writing shows us that non-tribals (eg. BK Sarma, Amjad Ali) were at the forefront of many literary and literacy projects initiated in the past. Perhaps along with fiction, more socially relevant genres like journalism should also be pursued with equal enthusiasm. Outside of the various Churches, most of whose works are non-secular, hardly anyone translates into vernacular. A person who translates well (or transliterates) is as good a creator, at times, as a novelist or poet. Many vernacular writers are instead keen to have their works translated into English in order to share their work with the world. This can, however, create a dependency on the outside audience which might be to the disadvantage of the vernacular at home.  

I lament the quiescence of the indigenous art scene. The wonderful artisans have been sidelined for the most part, because they are too “local”, too specific, difficult to market outside.  The government is quick to foot Shillong Chamber Choir’s bills and to promote them but what about Garo, Pnar, War, Bhoi, Tiwa, Maram art forms? These for the most part have been left to their own devices, left to become “modern” through the efforts of individuals only. Even in our overwhelmingly (callow) Romantic writing scene, Bevan Swer attempted a Khasi poetry with a Modern sensibility, years before anyone else. I remember when, back in 2001, being a young boy of 13 or so, I was “forced” to attend my grandfather’s (I M Simon) book release ceremony. I was sceptical, even back then, about any events involving large hall spaces, because they seemed to have a nasty ability of attracting the most long-winded and lob-sided speeches within a 10 kilometre radius. My grandfather’s book was a collection of short stories in Khasi and he had been working on it for a while. When it was finally completed, he was delighted, the publisher was delighted, the Khasi authors were delighted. These along with few family members and few friends made up the audience at the book launch. It was small because the readership was small.

I understood the problem then as I do now. Tribal authors usually find themselves in a tight spot because, on the one hand, English-writing is en vogue and readily sought after by publishing houses (major or minor); and secondly, their popularity is dealt a reeling blow by the fact that most Khasi authors usually find themselves consigned to educational institutions. We are taught to learn them by rote but not how to appreciate them. They are not experienced, enjoyed in real life and that is the real tragedy. They are no longer in the public eye but have been relegated to the too oft-hidden places of study. Couple this with poor distribution and you have, in effect, another instance of exclusivity. Works become available only to those who can afford to pay or are lucky enough to get a chance to study. In this age of globalisation, to consecrate a literature, to frame it, is to kill it. Many tribal languages are moribund because they cannot breathe, because we do not experiment with them, because we don’t enjoy them. Khasi has the other disadvantage of having custodians who fascistically dictate diction, survey syntax.   

The new Shillong canon is not in want nor afraid of limelight. Unlike their predecessors who wrote and were relegated, this new breed is trying desperately not to follow suit, but to trail blaze. These authors know how to pursue and spear their targets. Aesthetic judgement aside, they are dedicated to their cause because this is now considered legitimate, albeit still thankless, work. In that way, they are quite professional. This is a source of strength as well as a source of worry. On the positive side, these writers are now determined to write, which is no mean accomplishment. When one decides to be a full-fledged writer one forsakes many things crucial for, well, being a ‘’normal’’ person. Writing is a cruel taskmaster, who lords over its unfortunate vassal and whips them occasionally to inspire them; but when it refuses to talk to us, we beg for the whip. This is true both for the old school and the new. But the new, does gets paid better and is more likely to be appreciated, if not in the local place, outside. The negative side of the new Shillong canon is that the writers might very well be too professional. In the bid for outside recognition - that glorious term that brings to mind many English students fluttering their eyelids, grimacing and making swinging gestures with their arms – they run the risk of being irrelevant to the people of the very place that created them.

Author's Bio- Note:

Abner Pariat is a social activist, documentary film-maker and writer. You can follow him at his blog - http://shillongcynic.wordpress.com/