By Janet Moore Hujon
Now that the moneyed classes have been hit where it hurts can we finally expect this stubborn, immoral government to do something? Corruption, evasion and hot air have long been tolerated in Meghalaya nurturing a culture of indifference and apathy. But what was a murmur of discontent seems to be developing into an uproar. The public is beginning to call the politicians’ bluff and I wonder why. For think about it, daily reports of labourers dying in the death traps of the Jaintia hills did not make that much of a stir apart from persistent, courageous protests from environmentalists. Was that because the loss of life in the mines was just an occupational hazard in a money-making racket which scarcely impinged upon the lives of the general public? Yet were not those poor labourers earning (a pittance) to feed their families and keep a roof over their heads, struggling to do so in order to establish these universal defining conditions of self-respect – a concept obviously alien to their employers. And yes it is the absolute height of calculating hypocrisy that coal barons are using the ‘welfare’ of labourers as a reason to prolong the practice of rat-hole mining. How many more lives do they want to add to the tomb of unknown soldiers who fell in a battle hopeless from the start?
Let’s face it, the powers-that-be do not care and will not care. It is a lesson they have chosen to forget and will keep buried unless they are nagged and badgered into doing so. And maybe we are doing just that. With the effects of load-shedding beginning to bite we are turning on the service-providers and their masters and we want them to be accountable – we are displaying the clarity of vision we know we possess. We are no longer just a chattering class. Who knows, maybe the darkness blanketing Meghalaya may yet turn out to be the proverbial ray of light.
Perhaps we who are privileged, if not burdened by surplus wealth, are at last being forced to ask what it takes for us to enjoy comfort and convenience. We have been made to realise that this invisible power fuelling our ways of life is unstable and will not last forever. Other sources of power exist we know but please let us not go down the uranium path. In addition to all the other attendant and dangerous unknowns, the current careless attitude to safety in the workplace would doubtless continue to operate not only in connection with mining the element, but also with the storage of nuclear waste which has a habit of leaking silent havoc for centuries to come. Is this the kind of doom-scarred future we want our children to face? No. So perhaps now we will begin to concentrate less on lifestyle and more on life. Hopefully we will think twice about keeping up with the Joneses or whoever the equivalent is in Meghalaya. Perhaps now we will look with greater urgency at the misuse and destruction of our natural resources and ask ourselves again why we let an individual or a small group of individuals decide our destiny for us.
The angry red soil in Barapani (ironic name or what?) stands as a stern warning to us all, as do the turquoise waters of the now dead Lukha, Myntdu and Kupli. It is obvious that the government does not share our shame in having to admit that it was the voice of the Dimasa, concerned about the livelihoods of their own people, that scuppered mining activities in the Jaintia hills. After all caring about anyone else is not high on the political agenda of recent Meghalaya governments – only fat bank balances and staying in power matter. Our ministers ride high and fly high while the land and her people go to hell. No matter who comes into power, politics in Meghalaya has so far ended up being simply a dirty self-serving business infected with opportunism and marked by the singular ‘failure of the imagination’ (Javed Imthiaz, ST, April 23rd), and it is this failure of the imagination which we need to address if Meghalaya is to have a future worth talking about.
I read the opening lines of Imthiaz’s letter with a sense of déjà vu:
“I am afraid for Meghalaya, whose clear streams and forested hills brought tears to my eyes. I could not tell whether they were from the joy of knowing nature still existed in such form, or from a sense of its impending loss…”
No guesses as to where I had originally read and shared these sentiments. Already in 1936(!) when visualising a golden epoch in the history and lives of his people, Soso Tham the peerless master of the imagination, writes with his characteristic gentle sadness: “Shalor ki Lum shapoh Dymmiew,/ Haba ngi iaid pyngngad weibriew,/ Iathuh sa pha, Ko Ri jong nga,/ Balei bunsien nga sngew pisa:/ Haba sawdong nga phai ka khmat/ Balei nga sngew ban jaw ummat?” (On hilltop high, in sheltering shade/ On lone and pleasant wanderings,/ Oh Land of mine, do tell me why,/ I am beset with troubling thought:/ Why, as I cast my gaze around/ I feel the smart of unshed tears?”) (Ki Sngi Barim)
Imthiaz’s subsequent reflections further echo Soso Tham’s prophetic fears: “Hyndai ki Lum ki da ia ngi/ Hadien mano ban da ia ngi: (The hills our guardians in the past / Who’ll keep us safe in the after-time:) I am absolutely convinced that Soso Tham’s tender lyrical style owes much to the peaceful co-existence between Man and Nature. And for Meghalaya to survive we need to stop and listen to the quiet harmony he sought and heard and then we too will fear the horror of the ‘after-time’. How we respond will determine whether we have a Barapani or an Umiam – big waters or a river of tears. I desperately and sincerely hope that this lack of electric power in our state will inspire us to understand the fragility of our natural resources which only the power for good within ourselves can help to protect. If the Dimasa can do it so can you.
If we refuse to imagine a sustainable future where the wanton destruction of our forests and rivers has stopped; if we cannot imagine the parched despair following the drying up of our life-giving springs; if we cannot imagine a time when our children will not be able to play outside unless they wear masks to prevent carbon emissions that are blotting out the sun from entering their respiratory systems, (as is already happening in China); if we cannot imagine the agonised writhing of fish poisoned by chemicals; if we cannot imagine how the plastic we thoughtlessly discard ends up in the stomachs of birds, animals and fish killing them or eventually entering the food chain to poison us; if we cannot envisage all this and much else besides, then we will have failed ourselves and our children, and we will have shared in our politicians’ betrayal of the natural world that has sustained us for so long. We cannot allow a self-centred, lethargic and manipulative crew get away with felonies that should have no place in a civilised society. So with you lies the power to determine whether we deserve the label civilised or not.
(The author lives and works in Cambridge, UK)