The recent violent bloodshed in Assam is a reminder for the incoming Government in New Delhi that it must address the long-festering issues related to ethnic demands and aspirations that plague the region
Eighteen years after I shot the Project Tiger film on Manas Tiger Reserve, I found myself with my family driving along a broken dirt road to Ananda Bazaar, situated on the eastern flank of what was once among our best wildlife reserves. In 2005, Bodo leaders visited me in Gurgaon and, on behalf of their newly set-up Manas Maozigendri Eco-tourism Society, extended an invitation to revisit the sanctuary. The intervening period had seen terrible violence as Bodo tribals, under demographic pressure not just from Muslim settlers from the south but also Nepalese and adivasi families along the foothills, had rebelled against the State of Assam. The violence started in 1987 and for the next 16 years there was virtual anarchy in the region, with the Assam Government and the Union Government half-heartedly poking at the problem. Thousands were displaced during this period until the Bodo Territorial Council Accord was signed in February 2003.
“The Accord was at best a fire fighting measure”, said a former senior politician from Meghalaya. “In the long run it will prove to be an escape mechanism for the Assam Government”. He further elaborated, saying that the formation of autonomous councils not just in Bodoland but also in Karbi Anglong and other regions of Assam, were only measures to buy time. “In most of these regions, the ethnic populations, who have been given control, are outnumbered by other communities that are constantly pushing into their areas. It’s a matter of time before things get out of hand and these people turn on each other. The mother State of Assam has pulled off a huge con on the people of India.”
This abrogation of responsibility, bordering on cynical politics of the worst kind, when combined with the relatively unchecked inflow of humanity from across the borders over the decades, has created a situation that today threatens to drag India back into the dark ages. The ferocity of violence has always been stunning, highlighting the fact that ethnic cleansing spares nobody. The recovery of a bullet-ridden body of a three-year-old child among the victims who were killed earlier this month starkly underlines the fact.
The tragic events in the midst of the general election have, for a change, caught the attention of the national media, which like the rest of the country, seems to completely ignore the entire North-East as some remote exotic region. Even today, the problem is being talked of in terms of Bodos versus Muslims, a black and white divide, that ignores the equally serious influx of Nepali settlers all along the foothills. “The problem from the south is more obvious, as the demography of the region further divides the issue on communal lines, but the environmental damage being done by the influx along the foothills is by far more serious”, says Mr Raj Basu, who helped set up the Maozigendri movement and continues to do major grassroot work along the West Bengal/Assam corridor.
So just how serious is the problem of illegal immigrationIJ Between 2008 and 2011, while working on the Northeast Trilogy, I had travelled extensively throughout the region. Area after area, State after State, the problem was invariably the same, dominating the fireside conversation in huts and houses that were shaped and characterised by their own ethnic roots. As one moves through the areas bordering Bangladesh — be they in Mizoram, Tripura, southern Assam (Karimganj and Silchar) or the West Garo district of Meghalaya — to not notice the teeming mass of people, would be akin to burying ones head in the sand.
What is evident in this scenario is the desperate shortage of one of the most vital commodities — land! Today, with the fencing of the Bangladesh-India border more or less complete, the influx of fresh illegal immigrants may have come down sharply, but the problem is still acute. A Border Security Force officer, sipping tea with me at the Akhaura Border Out Posts in Agartala, put it most succinctly: “The main reason why illegal crossovers have decreased is the fact that those who have preceded them don’t want them to come. There is no more land to share. The fence is an obstacle, but for the determined, it is not an obstacle. We see all sorts of kalakars in action here. Some we catch, but some must be getting through.”
At the same time, it is hard not to feel for the people whose faces depict a stoic determination that repeated tragedies have etched into their features. North India was partitioned once, and the scars of that one event defined most of post-Independence history. Bengal has seen the same drama play itself out at least four times, starting with lord Curzon’s first partition, the subsequent revocation of that, then again Partition in 1947 followed by the horrors of the 1971 war.
Not surprising then, the push northwards into less populated and sparsely cultivated lands was just a matter of time. East of Manas lies the Sankosh river and West Bengal, where the dynamics of the game have always been different. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, it suited various people to play vote-bank politics and they turned their faces away, in the process laying a clutch of eggs that are now all threatening to hatch simultaneously.
Two years ago, the Congress-led UPA Government did not exactly cover itself in glory when it not only ignored potential signs of trouble, but actually whittled down security forces, when the four districts went up in flames. The four-day long delay in the response of the Army after the District Commissioners had requisitioned troops has never been explained satisfactorily either. Indications are that even today, the main culprits in the horrendous killings are safely hidden elsewhere. Whatever the behind the scenes machinations, it is almost certain that whosoever forms the next Government, the North-East problem cannot be wished away.
Surveys, based on linguistic and anthropological data, estimate that there are 475 ethnic groups in the region that speak some 400 languages. This mass of some 46 million people in the North-East, therefore, makes it a volatile group of humanity that can easily self combust if matters are allowed to drift. Already Bodos are battling Muslims, adivasis and Nepalis; Karbis are up in arms against Dimasas; the Nagas are constantly feuding with the Meiteis and Kukis; the Mizos are chasing the Brus and the Reangs; and in Tripura, the original tribes have all but disappeared as this constant shift in demographical patterns continues to complicate matters.
In the six decades that have elapsed since Independence, India is a changed country, as more and more people move across the subcontinent, breaking out of regional cliques in search of the larger national identity. At the same time, ethnicity that had always been central to their existence, is now becoming even more critical for others who cling on to their lifestyles that define their very existence. Given the complicated state of affairs, it is now imperative that all players, regardless of their political and regional affiliations, look at the larger national picture and work out a way forward.
(The writer is a filmmaker who has shot extensively in the North-East)