By Paramjit Bakhshi
This is a story of a lovely maiden called Megh Alaya. Her eyes were as bright as the morning sunshine, which bathed her home early in the morning, and they danced with mischief, like the many waterfalls, which dotted her motherland. Her cheeks were as rosy as the plums, which grew in her backyard, and she exuded the fresh fragrance of pine. Her voice had the melody of duitara, and it was said by those lucky enough to have kissed her, that her lips tasted of honey and oranges. Indeed she was so beautiful that tales of her beauty had spread far and wide, and even as far as Scotland, people fell in love with her, and named her,” Scottie of the East. ” The Wordsworthian expression, “she was a phantom of delight” summed her up most aptly, and there is no doubt that the great poet, would have found more than ample inspiration, had he been fortunate enough to set his eyes on her.
Unlike most children who are born out of unions she was the child of a separation and was born the day her father Assam Dk Har and her mother Ri officially separated. However the separation was hardly the reason for gloom on her birth, because her mother was a rich princess who owned large tracts of land in Garo, Jaintia and Khasi Hills. Since the land was not only fertile, but rich in forest and mineral resources, it was felt that there would be no shortage of resources in the upbringing of the little child. Moreover her uncle, the great Central Government, was always at hand to lend a helping hand in her care. It was thus rightly felt that a very bright future awaited this girl, and that she would, with her charm and her various material assets, surely make a name for herself.
Her childhood was spent in gay abandon. She frolicked in the hills and the streams, and bathed in the many waterfalls. She explored the caves of Cherrapunjee, visited Baghmara and Nartiang and plucked sohshang, sohphoh and sohphie from the trees. Every sight delighted her and she even wrote little rhymes in praise of her land and its people. She danced the Shad Suk Mynsiem, Shad Nongkrem, the Laho, and the Wangala. She wore fine silks and necklaces and earrings of pure gold, without fear of being robbed because she was mostly amongst her kinsmen only. Having heard distasteful stories about the horrible Dk Hars, she kept her distance from them. She too came to believe, as the Persian poet Firdaus felt about Kashmir that, “if there is heaven on earth, it is here. It is here”.
Soon she blossomed into a most attractive teenager and like most teenagers felt the need to choose her calling or her love. For a while she felt that she could, with her many charms, do well in tourism. However since she had occasional bouts of epilepsy she was prone to very violent fits of temper and many a tourist came to suffer her ire. She then had to be confined by a curfew which put paid to tourism for many a decade. For a while then she toyed with the idea of organic farming. However being a child of plenty she had no appetite for hard work. She was also loathe to allow any big industry on her sland. Because of her attitude and the fact that there were many suitors hovering around her it was inevitable that she would choose love over a career.
Her first love was a person of a very adventurous bent. Unlike other people who had traditional occupations, and were basically farmers, hunters, fishermen or weavers, this one had chosen a career which was relatively new to her tribe. He was a politician. She had heard glowing tales about politicians, and had been told in her childhood that without their help, she might have never been born. She held them in high regard and was perhaps even in awe of them. Her young suitor, though having never shared in the struggle for her birth, nevertheless was part of the same noble profession and who could blame her for falling for his charm. Charming, indeed he was, and like all lovers he promised her the moon (even though all he did later was to make her see stars). He reminded her that his kinsmen had unleashed the magical powers of the Sixth Schedule. He convinced her that he truly worshipped her, and if she believed him he would make her rich and famous. She believed him completely, was totally bewitched by him and gave up all her rationale and logic and as often happens married him in a solemn ceremony. In due course he showed her, even his power over her uncle, Mr. Central Government, who believed him completely and sent money regularly in her name. Strangely enough though money did come to her account, it also disappeared as magically as it came. She could never use it for anything good, even though her husband talked about having completed many important projects. Indeed with the increasing tribe of her children, she even felt financially constrained, to run the daily affairs of her own household. It was only later that she discovered that her husband had another mistress – a sexy and seductive siren named Personal Wealth. To her went all Megh alaya’s monetary dues. Strangely this woman had many lovers, and all of them got along with each other, as if they belonged to an elite club. Initially this upset Megh Alaya very much, and she cried and protested as loudly as possible. Eventually she came to realise that even though her husband’s love for her was just pretence, he would never leave her because he drew all his financial powers in her name. Being a much married lady with many children under her care she too could never leave him. Yet she worried how she would support herself and her children.
Meanwhile other prospective lovers still hovered around her because she had not yet lost all her charms. One of them was Mr. Businessman .No one knows whether Businessman was a local or a Dk Har. Perhaps like all businessmen he had no community. The fact is that Mr. Businessman had been sending Megh Alaya attractive trinkets even after her marriage. In a moment of weakness she began a very torrid affair with him. One wonders whether the word “torrid” is the correct one to use here because it was more of a horrid affair. He robbed her blind- cut all her trees on her land, dug up her coal, ruined her sparkling streams and gave her a pittance in return. For a while she thought of complaining to her husband’s friend, Mr Bureaucrat but knowing the words “IAS” affixed to his name she knew that all he would say was “I Am Sorry”, about anything and everything.
In time she had many a fling. Mr. Militant loudly proclaimed his love for her, but like others he too made a public show to enrich his personal coffers. So did Mr. NGO, who even went on to ensure that no activity in the state was possible without him. Occasionally her loves had violent repercussions and surgeons from the Indian Physicians Service (IPS) had to be called upon to conduct bloody operations. It will not be unfair to say that her husband knew what was going on but turned a blind eye to everything. Perhaps the only thing he could see was Personal wealth.
I wonder which fool said that the morning shows the day. It certainly isn’t the case with Megh Alaya. Today she is in her mid forties and has no illusions about the love anybody has for her. Her income is abysmal, her jewellery of green forests lies denuded, and her body bears the scars of abuse and violence. She runs high temperature, suffers from a lack of vision and does not know what will become of her. She is on life support of funds from the Central government and has no other visible means of sustenance. She suffers all that has befallen her silently. The noises one hears are from people appropriating her voice for personal gain.
Oscar Wilde once wrote, “each man kills the thing he loves,.., some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word, the coward does it with a kiss, the brave man with a sword! …. Some strangle with the hands of Lust, some with the hands of Gold: the kindest use a knife, …. Some love too little, some too long, some sell, and others buy; some do the deed with many tears, and some without a sigh, for each man kills the thing he loves, .”