Editor:
I am writing to express my deep gratitude for the faith-laden, poetic, beautiful piece, “The Stars of my Destiny,” by H H Mohrmen (ST, Nov 25, 2024). In these troubled times, with war, grand larceny, violence, and creeping authoritarianism, it was heartening to read a piece so vivid that the reader could experience (vicariously), the author’s experiences. As I grew up in an anglicised identity bubble in Shillong, and since the separate state of Meghalaya did not yet exist at that time, I never got to know this beautiful land. But this piece helped me experience the raw rootedness of this state and its beautiful people.
Many of us who came to the west, came reluctantly, and stayed reluctantly — not because the west was faulty, but because India back then was impossibly difficult to survive in, with any semblance of dignity — unless one had well placed fathers and brothers, plenty of money, and played into the politics of patronage. For marginalized Indians (like Dalits, women, and others), it was difficult to call India home. The uncomfortable truth is this: despite western racism, for many Indians, the west has been far kinder than India. They have felt more accepted here than ever in India. The allure here is one of freedom, dignity, everyday justice, everyday ethics, and a well-oiled, well-functioning infrastructure, less corruption — everything that was and still is lacking in India. But because of its unique history and historical purpose, the west (especially America) is very rootless. Thus, despite these great benefits, which should never be taken for granted, and for which one should be grateful to the west — the longing for roots does not disappear.
In my case, this longing has been, not so much for literal familial roots, which are now in Bangladesh (thanks to the partition of India) — but for metaphysical roots — a place in the universe I can call my own. I now understand that our real roots are always in the Divine, but our earthly roots also matter. If these terrestrial roots are to slake our thirst for a home, they cannot be tied to a village, language, or ethnicity — but must lie in profound existential moments, exactly like that described in this poignant piece.
My thanks again to the author.
Yours etc.,
Deepa Majumdar,
Via email
Shillong Literary Festival cheered up countless hearts
Editor,
Under the blooming cherry blossoms of Shillong’s idyllic Ward’s Lake, the fourth Shillong Literary Festival came to a successful conclusion. This three-day celebration of literature and culture transcended mere entertainment, becoming a platform for “deeper” reflection, creativity, and inspiration. Through a series of enthralling sessions, thought-provoking discussions among celebrated writers, scholars and media journalists from across the country, and an elegant display of art and culture, the festival highlighted the profound power of words to reflect society and expand human horizons. It also demonstrated how words can paint a picture of our world and push the boundaries of what we truly know. As attendees shared stories, recited poems, and engaged in animated conversations, they found themselves seeing life through new lenses and forming deeper connections with one another.
In today’s digital age, where fleeting interactions and frivolous chats on social media often replace meaningful engagement, Shillong Literary Festival emerged as an oasis of profound connection and intellectual depth. It brought together young and old, reviving a communal love for books and storytelling — undoubtedly a vital ingredient for personal growth and societal progress.
Yes, this Literary Festival has also played a “pivotal” role in unlocking the “untapped” creative potential of young people, like a literary locksmith for the mind. By offering a space for interaction with top authors and poets, it has provided invaluable insights into the art of storytelling, character creation, and the significance of creativity in writing. These moments of learning never fail to “motivate” young minds to discover their hidden talents and pursue their creative passions.
Above all, this festival has perhaps reignited the passion for reading, a fundamental pillar in nurturing skilled and imaginative writers. Minister and poet Paul Lyngdoh, along with Chief Minister Conrad Sangma, have left no stone unturned to make this event unprecedented. Delivering his speech amidst the beauty of nature, Paul Lyngdoh poetically dwelt on the “gap” between God’s perfect creation and man-made chaos, aptly insisting on addressing this issue through “profound and thoughtful writing” for the larger interest of society. It deeply touched the hearts of the audience. Perhaps it was for this specific reason that Henry David Thoreau retreated to the woodland and brought out the masterpiece Walden, and T.S. Eliot wrote “The Waste Land”. Both geniuses strove to make the world understand that unless humans turn towards nature or look within and strive for self-evolution, all man-made achievements might prove disastrous.
The ongoing climate catastrophes, capable of engulfing entire civilizations in flames, are a glaring example of such a reckoning. To everyone’s applause, both the Chief Minister and Bah Lyngdoh sincerely assured that they would provide every possible support to motivate and inspire those literary talents who desperately need such nurturing and encouragement.
Yes, sessions like The Power and Magic of Oral Storytelling and Indigenous Voices of Northeast India brought to life the richness of oral traditions and the importance of protecting and preserving indigenous narratives. In a compelling dialogue with Bikash Roy Debbarma, Anil Kumar Boro, and Basan Marak, Streamlet Dkhar emphasized the critical need to preserve and document indigenous languages and stories. By doing so, the festival fostered an incredible respect for cultural diversity and pastoral narratives while igniting creative passion in participants, including school and college students.
It is no exaggeration to say that perhaps a Shakespeare-like genius is tending to rice fields in a quiet Ri-Bhoi village, while a Wordsworth-like poet crafts verses with whistles beside springs in Kongthong. The Shillong Literary Festival should also hold the promise of discovering and nurturing these “unseen gems”. By providing them with a platform to shine, the festival ensures that creativity from every corner of the region flourishes, enriching the world with its beauty and wisdom while ensuring that no one feels left out. Truly, where stories and poems from the heart are nurtured, humanity thrives under the blessings of divinity.
Yours etc.,
Salil Gewali,
Shillong