NELit reviewPOST script 3 MAY 06, 2012 SEVEN SISTERS The queen-swap magic I CANNOT believe my own eyes! How can it be possible? The same place, the same hour of the day and the same people – unchanged over a period of five years! They are bathing, two couples. The reason for my surprise is that five years ago I had gone once to the Palm-bower isle in the Gumti Reservoir. While going by boat, I saw the same couples bathing there. Three tong huts on stilts stood by the water. How can things remain so much the same for five years? Are they real men and women or are they characters from some ancient lore – Dongoi, Gomati and Sumati – playing in the deep waters? Am I in my senses? I rubbed my eyes and looked once again. Yes, everything is as before: rignai and risa – the clothing – left on the bank as before; the three tongs by the waterside; two couples bathing. Our boat went near. In towns it is extreme rudeness, a taboo, to even look at an elderly lady bathing. Here, there is nothing unnatural in it among these people. These are the ways of the hills. The couples stood in shoulder-deep water. We made fast our boats and went up the bank in search of some water to drink. Five years back, one of my friends, Kajal, lived here. On the way back from the Palm-bower, I made a night-halt here. Kajal was a contractor, building roads in this area. He also dealt in stone chips. He had two business partners, Sikhiray and Pintu. Kajal married a local girl from the hills and settled here. His partners also followed suit. Sikhiray married Karmati and Pintu, Archana. Both the girls came from poor local families. Karmati was very beautiful, although not very fair. Her eyes were remarkably beautiful. She knew how to dress well and look nice and loved to do so. Five years ago when I arrived here, I had met them. They were bathing like today. But haven’t they grown a day older in these five years? Don’t they have any children? Five years is not a very short space of time. I can’t recall all the details but I clearly remember how Karmati giggled as she served rice to me. It was her habit to burst out giggling at the slightest cause. Archana also had the same habit; in addition, she would pinch the one next to her while talking. I remember Archana asking me whether I would like cold water or hot. As I asked for cold, she brought me a glass of local liquor. When I asked her why she had done that, she said that cold drinking water meant liquor and hot meant tea. When I said that I didn’t drink, both the girls were astonished and burst out laughing. A man who did not drink was something strange to them. On coming to this place, these small incidents kept coming to my mind. RRRRRRT G ARCHANA burst out giggling, and said, “Couldn’t you guess even after so many hours here that now I am Karmati and Karmati has become Archana? It’s the magic of queenswapping.” I was struck dumb. iNKPOT HARIPADA DEBBARMA TRANSLATED FROM KOKBOROK BY SAROJ K CHAUDHURI THE OXFORD ANTHOLOGY OF WRITINGS FROM NORTH-EAST INDIA Tilottoma Misra (ed.) Oxford University Press, 2011 `595,298 pages Hardcover / Fiction Seeing me, Sikhiray and Pintu came out of the water. “Why, it’s you, Dada! What a pleasant surprise! Where from?” They chortled. They called Kajal ‘Dada’, and as his friend, they used to call me Dada too. Meeting me after such a long time they would not let me leave so quickly and insisted that I have lunch with them. Sikhiray said that he had a boat and would take me to the Palm-bower later. I also felt like spending some time with them. So I sent away my companion and stayed back. On either side of the huts there were hills, with a crown of small white clouds over their heads. All around there was the wide stretch of water. Water circled around the base of the hills. The place had a mysterious attraction. Kajal was not around when I reached the huts. Archana and Karmati came in and asked whether I would prefer ‘hot’ or ‘cold’. I remembered the experience five years ago and said, ”Cold. That’s what I’ll take today.” For a moment they were surprised and then Archana pinched Karmati and both burst out laughing. “He has learnt it now – like me…,” said Archana. They went on giggling. Suddenly something like a false note in their laughter struck me. Was it real laughter or a practiced habit, like our concern about democracy before every election, discussed at every tea shop? Sikhiray and Pintu came in and sat by my side. We sat in Kajal’s room. Archana came in with a bottle of liquor. I told them that I would not take more than a serving or two. Karmati started serving the drinks. She appeared to be an expert in the job. Pintu said that when the overseers or government officers came, Karmati and Archana were in charge of looking after their comfort and offering them hospitality. After a round of drinks we started playing cards. The girls also joined in. Sikhiray said, “Dada, you know how to do magic with cards. I remember you had shown one of your magic tricks last time. Why don’t you do it once more now?” When the others also insisted, I started with my magic. I told them that magic was just sleight of hand; the more foolish one could become, the more one enjoyed it. After some time I announced that I would show the magic of ‘queen-swapping’. I gave the clubs queen to Pintu and the queen of hearts to Sikhiray. I asked them to look at their cards carefully and then put them away. I also asked Archana and Karmati to note the cards. Next, I asked the men to hide their cards and the girls to clap. After the clapping, when the cards were brought out and shown, lo! the queens had changed hands! Everyone burst out into applause. Archana exclaimed, “Pintu has the queen of hearts!” “The clubs queen is with Sikhiray!,” said Karmati. The girls started giggling hysterically. By now two or three empty bottles were rolling on the floor. Archana and Karmati said, “You are a great magician, dada. You have real magic powers. Sikhiray’s queen has gone to Pintu and Pintu’s to Sikhiray. Show us how!,” they pleaded. I told them that it was just practice and no magic at all. They could practise it themselves, I said. Archana and Karmati said, “You don’t want to teach us your magic? All right, we also have our own magician. He will teach us. When you come next time we’ll show you this magic.” Saying this, Karmati held Pintu in an embrace. Making all allowances for the effect of too many drinks, I still could not take it easily. Even after admitting drunkenness, the situation embarrassed me. It was quite late in the afternoon by then and I felt the need for a nap after the meal. I was not a regular drinker and my head was reeling somewhat. When I woke up, it was about eight in the evening. A lamp was burning in the room and a lady was sitting beside me on the bed. As I opened my eyes, she asked, “Can you remember me?” I could recognise the voice and said, “Aren’t you Kajal’s wife?” I felt ashamed that I had not enquired about my friend all this time. She told me that three years ago, Kajal had left the place for a bigger contract and had not come home since then. Then she changed the topic and said, “You got drunk, became sick and soiled your clothes. I washed your head with cold water and changed your clothes, but you didn’t know all this.” I felt terribly ashamed and went out of the hut. I had to remind Sikhiray about his promise to take me to the Palm-bower and must start at once. When I entered Sikhiray’s room, I found Archana on his bed. Although there was no one by her side, she was lying dishevelled on the bed. She seemed exhausted but relaxed. I could hear Sikhiray gurgling and clearing his throat outside. “How is it that you are here? Where is Karmati?” I asked with some irritation. “I am Karmati now,” she replied. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief and looked at her intently. “Am I still drunk, or is she? “ I asked myself. Archana burst out in her familiar giggle and said, “Couldn’t you guess even after so many hours here that now I am Karmati and Karmati has become Archana? It’s the magic of queen-swapping.” I was struck dumb. Karmati and Archana had showed me their magic today itself. They did not wait till my next visit. I rushed out of the hut. On my way to the Palm-bower, I thought and thought. Who was that master magician who could teach this magic to Karmati and Archana? Where did he live? Who clapped during the show? T Recipient of the Salil Krishna Deb Barman literary award, Haripada Debbarma is a short story writer. Extracted with permission from The Oxford Anthology of Writings from North-East India edited by Tilottoma Misra and published by Oxford University Press. PAGE TURNERS SATYABRATA CHAKRABORTY Recommends Satyabrata Chakraborty, a veteran journalist from Tripura, is known for covering the historic liberation war of Bangladesh. He says in an interview with Pinaki Das that the literary works of writers from the Northeast should be properly translated for a confluence of minds u What does literature mean to you? Do you think it has any relevance in our day-to-day lives? According to you, does it have anything to do with all that is happening around us? t Man just cannot live only to eat and sleep. He has gained a lot from scientific advances. Science and technology, however, have not helped him grow in wisdom. Literature or art makes people humans and brings them closer together. Put simply, literature is a true reflection of society; it’s a mirror of our daily lives. u How close is your relation with literature in general, and with literature of the Northeast in particular? t I always try to keep track of literary activities in the Northeast. I do wish to read books by prominent authors from the region – the only thing is we don’t have proper translations of their works. Moreover, the Northeast, where people live under the shadow of the gun, has not been truthfully portrayed by writers. u What future do you see for literature from the Northeast? t I’m hopeful of a better future for northeastern literature. Translation of literary books from various states of the region will bring about a confluence of minds. u What book would you recommend for our readers and why? t If one is to have a better understanding of Tripura, one may consider reading Rabindranath O Tripura; the Rajmala by Kaliprasanna Sen and Kailash Chandra Sinha; a centenary publication by the Tripura Government on great musician Sachin Dev Barma; a valuable study of the development of Kokborok and some other languages of the Northeast by Kumud Kundu Chowdhury; and The Administrative Reforms in Tripura by Dr Mahadev Chakraborty. u Name one book that had a lasting impact on you. In what way? t So far as poetry is concerned, I should mention Anthology of Contemporary Poetry from the Northeast, edited by Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih and Robin S Ngangom, and published by NEHU Publications, Shillong. It gives a fair idea about poetry from all the states of the region. The river down memory lane I know one man splits into two the same river water assumes two names Jal and Pani Intact remains the sky for innocent moves, the cloud mind is not shattered, for heart is but one. Yet the border has two sides though I have none still there’s light and darkness Though I have none This sky reverberates with hari bhajan the other one with azan freely flies the feather over the same horizon. Back if I go shall embrace the river of memory land Titas, Padma, Meghna Back if I go Shall I embrace the golden grace Gomati, Manu and Raima. Only poetry calls me through beloved Shaon no storm, no disaster only flood tide within and without. Broken face in the mirror In the mirror last night Face-to-face you sought a glimpse of your inner self it couldn’t easily float like a water vessel, even though its sea-wide dream travelling within too far indeed seeking a complete unity with the river mingled with the body you made a secret promise to show the abandoned ring well in the old house. What do you see there today? distorted faces of the ancestors shattered live ritual views standing there why only see the skeletal replica of dear ones? before you discover the differences you find in water mirror your own trembling face. i NEW PRINTS NKPOT POLITICS OF CULTURE, IDENTITY AND PROTEST IN NORTH-EAST INDIA Padam Nepal and Anup Shekhar Chakraborty (ed.) Authorpress, 2012 `1375 (2 vols), 256 pages Hardcover/ Non-fiction RATUL DEB BURMAN TRANSLATED FROM BENGALI BY BIKACH CHAUDHURI A volume of essays on the northeastern scenario in the context of protest programmes by different communities BIHU: BIDHI ARU BYADHI he stood by me, and by most of us, and helped us get things done. He got me this place, from where I am writing now. Last Friday we were in his place with a couple of other friends–we kept on talking and listening to music (mostly ‘Black Friday’ soundtrack) as they packed. Next night they had to board the train from Mumbai. Somu was in his expected black shirt and track pants. We took snaps and we deleted. We ate pizzas from nearby Dominos. Poked. Laughed. Then we left. At 4 am, early Saturday morning. “Bhalo kore jaash.” “Yes man, you too.” And we got glued here in this endless time and space. We all are here. Nobody is going anywhere. Panchabhoot–the five elements. The countless atoms. We just dissolve, the spirit remains. You are here Somu, we love you. Salute, Friend. Dekha Hobe.T ipen NILKANKUR . You are here Somu pride when he mentioned his Bullet, the one that is 1987 make. By that time he was married, and I met both of them at their house in Fatima Nagar. “Just drop in, man, whenever you are in this area.” His embracing and open nature too was a reason that there were addas in his place. That too often with music and yummy food, like a pop-majlis, and everybody present participated. Joyous. And eventually his ever-helping nature and his presence in phonebook made me feel accepted in a different town, where we all long for small pockets of brotherhood. His house was always full. With people and love. Then the circle of friends grew, we introduced each other to our other set of friends and family. People gelled and we formed a certain sensibility. Though we were in different professions we got synchronised in the systematic manner of curious spirits. We grew. He advanced in his endeavours, and whenever we met, we cherished how far we got ahead. We kept on talking, exchanged resources, and nurtured a bond that is here. I am grateful to him, for the many occasions when Jaykanta Gandhiya AANK-BAAK, 2011 `250, 336 pages Hardcover/ Non-fiction A DAD’S THE WORD: THE PERILS AND PLEASURES OF FATHERHOOD Soumya Bhattacharya Westland, 2012 `225, 196 pages Paperback/ Non-fiction T Ratul Dev Barma writes in Bengali and he has published five collections of poems. Bikach Chaudhuri has studied Tagore’s relationship with the Northeast and has a publication on the subject. wo years back, when I was buying some kababs in Kondhwa, I heard someone calling me by name. I turned around and saw it was Somu. He asked me if it was I, saying he had met me eight years ago on a train to the Northeast. He also said we had shared the same compartment. We were students then, and my youthfulness resulted in some minor bandobast with cops, which I was apparently trying to remember as Somu was describing at that moment. I was wondering the cerebral capacity of this guy, who could remember everything so vividly… eight years back! Beat that. From there, we kept in touch pretty regularly. I loved his collection of critical essays on the various aspects of Bihu and the changes it has gone through B ASED on a weekly column in a reputed daily, the book deals with parenthood from the father’s point of view