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POST script
JUNE 24, 2012

SEVEN SISTERS

NELit review

FIFTH WALL
UDDIPANA GOSWAMI
Literary Editor

Appropriating Rabha: outcast to icon

Surjya Das takes a critical look at the iconic status that Bishnu Rabha holds in Assam today

Bishnu Rabha, etiya kiman rati?

If you asked him today: Bishnu Rabha, how far gone is the night? He couldnt say. The night is too far gone, And he is too far away. I walked with him once Through the jungle. He was a fugitive, Spitting away leeches Trudging on, Singing a love song, About a prince, a flower and a bee. When we halted for the night, Every villager came out to meet him: Pherengadao, we love you, they said. And he loved them back, Gave them all the music in his soul, And all the rhythm in his feet. And he left. He loved, but he always left. And they kept on loving him, Their kin, their king Who went from village to village, Stealing hearts, selling songs, Living two steps ahead Of a stray bullet bearing his name; With words, just fiery words, Leading them in fight. What magic! Id met him earlier On the Kochbihar streets Scribbling anti-Raj slogans On the walls, And thereafter in Calcutta, Benares, Tezpur, At scholars meets, and musical nights With dance troupes, at the theatre. Id seen him on screen, As a man of the soil, And on stage doing Shivas cosmic dance Before an Indian maestro And a Russian ballerina. Id seen him at sports, At letters, at love. And I see him still A different person every day, Bishnu Rabha, man, master, legend my love. (From We Called the River Red: Poetry from a Violent Homeland)

ISHNU Rabha was a soldier and artist. To free poor peasants from the shackles of poverty, he had used all mediums, all weapons: a sten gun, an easel and his talent for acting on the stage and in films. He had realised that there was no greater penance than striving for the freedom of people in its truest sense. To live his dream, he had even taken up arms, but he had never nor did his companions used the gun to kill people indiscriminately because he understood that people would one day fight for their own cause. Bishnu Rabha, because of his looks and personality, could blend with the people of Assam very easily, and that is why he was so loved and could become Pherengadao Abou. Unlike many of his contemporaries especially middle-class youth he hadnt joined the battle for social equality out of a romantic fascination for it; for him, it was the most spontaneous response to inequalities in society, straight from his heart. During those days, when Rabha used to roam the hills and plains of Assam with a sten gun in his hands, singing songs, the Assam government had announced a bounty of many thousands of rupees in return for his head. Since he was a communist, most of the middle-class Assamese people had distanced themselves from him. As far as I can remember, the Assamese periodicals didnt publish many of his works, including discussions on them, during his lifetime. It was only when he was bedridden for a while, before his death in 1969, that there were some discussions about his creative works and his activism; they were published in magazines such as Asom Bani, Saptahik Nilachal and Asom Batori. However, the only exception was Amar Pratinidhi, edited by Bhupen Hazarika. I remember in one of the issues of this magazine Hazarika had written an editorial entitled Brave Bishnuda (Rabha was bedridden then). When he passed away, Bhupen Hazarika published a special issue on Bishnu Rabhas life and works and then, on July 20, another editorial under the title of Rabha, Moon and Bank. July 20 1969 was a historic date not

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student there: Raijye ache duiti patha Ekti kalo, ekti sada Raijyer jodi mongol chao Duiti pathar boli dao. [There are two sacrificial goats in the state/one black, the other white;/if you want the best for the people/then sacrifice both.] On the day India got independence from the British, Rabha felt that his prediction was coming true. He went to Digheli Village in Tihu, Assam, and announced after hoisting a black flag: Ye azadi jhootha hain (This independence is fake). He saw Indias independence only as a transfer of power from the white elites to the brown. To him, the skin colour of the rulers changed, not their nature; and the system continued to remain antipeople. He wrote, Majulir deshote khuwar obhabote pelayporiyalok kati Shillong Roadote dekhiba raij mur oi minister xokolor mati. [In the land of Majuli/out of starvation/a family is hacked to death;/On Shillong Road/you will see dear people,/land owned by the ministers.] Rabha, to realise his dreams of equality in society and freedom for

THE Assamese middle class, who once despised Bishnu Rabha and Jyotiprasad Agarwala, later turned greatest fans of the duo. Jyoti Sangeet and Rabha Sangeet became an important marker of middle-class cultural elitism
just because Rabhas addya shraddha probably took place that day, but also because it was the day Neil Armstrong had landed on the Moon. It was also a historic date for India because prime minister Indira Gandhi had nationalised fourteen private banks that day. Bishnu Rabha was honoured a little before and after his death in 1969 by the establishment of Assam. But it was a different Rabha in 1962. That year, the police dragged him through the main street of Tezpur city with a rope tied around his waist before throwing him in jail, perhaps because the government thought he would support China during the Sino-Indian war. (I dont know if a single soul from the Assamese middle class had protested against his arrest in 1962. I will be happy if somebody proves me wrong.) Later, he was rechristened Kolaguru (Guru of Arts), but his fate in 1962 was synonymous with that of the exploited peasants, workers and labourers of Assam. Rabha was always alert to such an eventuality, and that is the reason why he always kept away from political leaders after India became independent. Rabha knew that the freedom of 1947 wasnt the freedom for the poor workers and peasants of India and that their fate would remain unchanged. Since he had a strong inkling of what this freedom would be like, he wrote those famous lines on the walls of Cooch Behar College when he was a

people from poverty, picked up the gun. Jyotiprasad Agarwala also believed that communism was a way to ensure the freedom of the working class, and had told Omeo Kumar Das once, We are leaving the carpet and stepping on the grass and you all are leaving the grass, to be able to step on the carpets. Both Agarwala and Rabha spoke in a similar vein, worried about the kind of freedom India would be getting. In 1951, Jyotiprasad Agarwalas memorial service had only a handful of attendees: 21 in all. Curiously, in subsequent years, when the government noticed the increasing and unprecedented popularity of both these cultural heroes among the people of Assam who would also sing their songs, it started celebrating the birthdays and death anniversaries of the two personalities. Suddenly the Assamese middle class became the greatest devotees of Rabha and Agarwala. Practising Jyoti Sangeet and Rabha Sangeet the songs composed by them became an important marker of middle-class cultural elitism. The class of people who didnt want to have anything to do with Jyoti and Bishnu became their greatest fans. The opportunism of communists in Assam contributed to this sort of phenomenon; many communists used to say that the bourgeoisie parliament was a pigsty, but when they gradually became part of the same parliament they once despised, the democratic movements for peoples freedom were shoved to the backstage. But amidst this, the director of All India Radio, Guwahati, Udebul Latif Barua, did something different when he broadcast Birendra Kumar Bhattacharyyas famous piece of poetry Bishnu Rabha Etiya Kiman Rati, a poem that underlined the real picture of Bishnu Rabha: the Bishnu Rabha that was despised by the middle class. Gautam Buddha preached Buddhisim 2500 years ago to bring the common people relief from the exploitative Brahminical, Vedic practices. But in the subsequent years, Brahminical religion embraced Gautam Buddha as one of the avatars of Lord Vishnu. The same Buddha, who was against idol worship, is now found in many places of the world in the form of gigantean idols as if there is a competition among the countries to construct the tallest Buddha statue. Sankardeva, who was against Vedic rituals, is now considered by many as an incarnation of Lord Krishna. Now, anniversaries of Sankardeva, Jyotiprasad Agarwala and Bishnu Rabha are indispensable sarkari holidays. Strange, because all these people placed themselves during their lifetime as anti-establishment and pro-people. T

The mystery man

FOUR-roofed building our main house was being built at Bejkuchi village in Patacharkuchi. Only its upper portion was completed then. There, on the eastern side, I had put up some old reed walls for a room where I could live and study. The remaining part was all empty; on one end was a chalpeera (a large bench) that was used by our Bihari servant, Chinan, for sleeping. A couple of benches or so and an armchair were also kept there for guests. One night I went to bed after eating food; I was just about to sink into postdinner sleep when a man came and flopped down on a bench. Chinan was lolling on the chalpeera, chewing tobacco. Seeing the man, he came to call me. I woke up after he had called out to me once or twice. I saw a tall, stoutly built man, shabbily dressed; he looked like a tribal villager. One could easily guess, by the look of him, that he was overcome with hunger and fatigue. His loincloth hung down to his knees; he had a sleeveless shirt on, and his head was covered with a Kachari gamosa. Before I asked him anything, he said, Bapu, will I get a little food? I havent eaten anything today. My stomach is growling. I have lost my pair of ploughing bulls. I went around looking for them in Dhamdhamak. You know, pita, I have bad luck. I will have to travel a very long distance. The man let out a deep sigh. Without saying anything to him, I went to my mother and told her about his presence. I asked Chinan to fetch a plantain leaf. Chinan was a short, thick-set man. How will he manage to reach plantain leaves at night? Yet, he hesitantly went out with a dao. Just then the tall, sturdy man took the dao from him and chopped a leaf off a plantain plant which was near

iNKPOT
TRANS: SIBA K GOGOI EXCERPT: THE MAN WHO HUNTED FOR CATTLE
the house. A pani-peera (wooden stool) was already placed on the kitchen veranda. The man washed his hands and mouth with the water drawn by Chinan from the well in the front yard. As my mother began to serve him rice, the tall, stout man picked up the plantain leaf from the veranda and spread it in the yard. He said, Aai (mother), its OK. Ill have food in the yard itself. He didnt sit on the pani-peera either. He took water only from a lota (a narrow-necked water vessel) and asked for a pinch of salt and a few chillies. He seemed to eat the rice contentedly. He also didnt put the lota to his mouth; he drank water noisily from the lota, holding it vertically above his mouth. Then he swept with cow dung the place where he had taken food. After that, he smoked a chillum of tobacco with Chinan. He also chewed a piece of betel nut gratifyingly. The man bowed down to my mother before taking leave of us. Its midnight. Where will you go now? My mother wanted to stop him travelling in the dead of night. He refused to obey her, and said, No, aai! Nothing will happen to me. The night is lit like a day by a full moon, so travelling wont be a problem for me. My daughter is also sick. I cant but go. Aai, Im feeling reinvigorated after eating

MAYABI MANUHJAN
Gurupada Choudhury Bani Prokash, 1992 `15, 64 pages Hardcover/ Non-fiction

rice here. May God bless you all! The wayfarer disappeared into the darkness. After getting up early in the morning, I came out to our front yard, cleaning my teeth with a twig (of shawara plant). I saw two policemen going towards the other end of our village. Police regularly patrolled the area like that at night. After sometime, the two police personnel returned and stopped near the bars at our gate. Did you see anyone looking like a

Illustration: Amrith Basumatary

leader come this way last night? they asked me. No. We dont know. We have heard about Bishnu Rabha visiting this village. Bishnu Rabha! I was speechless! The two policemen went away. We still thought our guest of the previous night was some villager

who was hunting for his bulls. Some days later, a rumour spread that Bishnu Rabha knew a boy of a family in the northern neighbourhood of our village. The boy was not at home that day. Rabha might have come to stay the night in his house. The old man of the family knew that, but he turned the man away, leaving him disheartened. Someone of

that family was said to have informed the police of the matter before dawn. Only then did we know that the man who had come disguised as a simple villager in search of cattle was none other than Bishnu Rabha. I remember a few other events that took place in similar situations It was an incident of another night. We had just had rice; the utensils were yet to be cleared. We used to eat dinner a little late in those days, and by the time we had food at night other villagers would fall into deep sleep. On one such occasion, a man arrived at our house. He appeared to be a leader-like person. He had a huge body and was wearing a white baggy shirt made of khaddar (homespun) cloth. His loincloth reached down as far as his calves; a large turban sat on his head. And he was holding a long stick. He was also given food in the kitchen. After having his meal, the man sat in the armchair at the empty house outside chewing betel nut with satisfaction. He also got his hands on Chinans tobacco pouch before smoking a roll-up of a chillum of tobacco. Moreover, he joked and shared a few words with us. As the night was growing old, I asked him to lie down on my bed. No thanks, bopai. I need to get going now. Ill speak to your mother after she has taken dinner and then leave your house. You know, the police are after us. On seeing my mother come out of the house, the largely built guest of the night paid obeisance to her, and said, Aai, Ill go now. Please dont mind if I troubled you. At last, he said softly, Im Bishnu Rabha. Please dont say anything to anyone at this hour. Ill have no problem when the day breaks; Ill be too far away. The mystery man vanished into the darkness. I had not seen the real Bishnu Rabha for quite a few years since then. T
Gurupada Choudhury is a writer and publisher. He has written around six books, the latest being Guru Prasad Dasar Jibanawali