POSTscriptJ U N E 0 3 , 2 0 1 2

SEVEN SISTERS

NELit review2

FIFTHWALL

UDDIPANAGOSWAMI

Literary Editor

ARUNACHAL Pradesh, likeother states of the North-east, has a treasure trove of

tribal myths and folklores in theform of oral literature, waiting tobe explored. Creative writing inthis remote hilly state, though notso broadly pursued as a literary ac-tivity as in Assam, West Bengal andManipur because of the absenceof a unanimously accepted nativelanguage, has over the years flour-ished remarkably, thanks to thelikes of Yeshe Dorjee Thongchi,Lummer Dai and Mamang Dai.Mamang, one of the finest Englishpoets and novelists from the re-gion, has already carved a place forherself on the national and inter-national scene. YD Thongchi and Lummer Dai,

held in high esteem for theirpioneering prose writings inAssamese, have penned down thehard times their people wentthrough when road connectivitywas scarce, women were power-less, and social evils such assuperstitions ruled their psyche.Coming from the Sherdukpentribe of West Kameng district,Thongchi had his early educationin Assamese medium and grad-uated in Assamese literature froma prestigious college in Assam.His Assamese novel MounoOunth Mukhar Hriday won himthe Sahitya Akademi Awardin 2005. He is also a recipient ofthe Kalaguru Bhishnu RabhaAward and the Basudev Jalan Bota2010, the latter given by AsomSahitya Sabha.Thongchi has so far authored

seven novels and three collectionsof short stories based on the livesof different tribes of ArunachalPradesh. His most popularnovel, Sonam, has been made intoan award-winning film. Sonam(1981), Thongchi’s debut novel,was translated into English byMridula Baruah of Assam in 2001.The story of the novel revolvesaround the polyandry system,followed by the Brokpas, a sec-tion of the Monpa tribe, where awoman is allowed, sometimescompelled, to marry more thanone man.Thongchi is the president

of Arunachal Pradesh LiterarySociety, of which Mamang Dai isthe general secretary. The Soci-ety meets on the capital complexat weekends and regularlyorganises workshops, seminarsand poetry readings to inspireyoung talent. Mamang, a former civil servant

from the Adi tribe and now a free-lance journalist, has written two

poetry collections, River Poemsand The Balm of Time (El balsamodel tiempo, a bilingual editionpublished in Spain); two critical-ly acclaimed novels, The Legendsof Pensam and Stupid Cupid; twochildren’s books, Once Upon aMoon-time and The Sky Queen; acookbook; a book on the state,Arunachal Pradesh: The HiddenLand. Her short stories, poemsand essays have been publishedin many journals and antholo-gies, and translated into As-samese, Hindi, German, Russianand Spanish.A winner of the Verrier Elwin

Award in her state, Mamanghas also been honoured withPadmashree. Mamang is gracefully lyrical in

both River Poems (Writers Work-shop) and The Legends of Pensam(Penguin). She writes with rarepassion and flow, fresh and fulllike the Siang river that meandersthrough her valley. The localflavour of tribal myths, mountainsand an intense emotional in-volvement with her land, all arefound interwoven in her workslike the beautiful costumeswomen make here with choice ofcolour and care.In the poem ‘The Missing Link’,

she contemplates thus:

I will remember then/ the greatriver/ that turned,turning/ with the fire / of the first sunaway from the old land/ of red

robed men…* * *

The river was the green/ and whiteveins of our liveslinking new terrain/ in a lust for landbrother and brother/ claiming thesunrise/ and the sunset,in a dispute settled/ by the rocks,engraved/ in a vanished land.

In the title poem of the book Riv-er Poems she celebrates herhomecoming:

Who brought me back / to taste themountainsthe breath of these hills, /atsunrise to sipthe sweetness of this light?

Holding firm to her belief andthe divine essence of her won-derland, Mamang asserts:

Yes, I believe in gods, / in the forest faithof good and evil, / spirits ofthe riverand the dream world / of the dawn.

(‘The Balm of Time’)

Such graceful movement and clarity make Mamang’s poetry compelling.In her internationally acclaimed

novel The Legends of Pensam,Mamang is at her best, handlingthe intricate web of stories, im-ages and the history of her tribewith extreme delicacy and lyri-cism. Though the novel doesn’t

have a central plot, the undyingspirit of the people in betweenlife and death, their sufferingsand respite from them, keep the narratives moving in full aes-thetic vigour. This socio-anthropological nov-

el, like Gopinath Mahanty’s mag-num opus in Odia, Amrutar San-tan, is akin to “the realms of gold”as Keats would have said on firstlooking into Chapman’s Homer.Her second novel Stupid Cupid,with the experimental theme ofa love agency making space forpeople who seek a little love andhappiness and are in the grip ofcomplicated relationships, makesfor pleasant reading with its lyri-cal charm and lucidity. Mamang’sworks are delicacies from the hillsof Arunachal Pradesh, served withlove and ethnic pride. Mamanghas done Arunachal Pradeshproud by attracting acadessmicinterest in the field of Indian Eng-lish literature coming from astate, which was hitherto knownonly for its strategic importance,scenic beauty and weather fore-cast on Delhi Doordarshan.Yumlam Tana, a promising poet

and cartoonist from the Nyishitribe, has published a poetry col-lection, The Man and the Tiger(1999), and two cartoon books onNyishi myths. Moreover, he is apainter and has exhibited his cre-ations in Itanagar and New Del-hi. Tage Donyi also published asmall poetry book, UntamedHeart, in 1990. Obang Tayeng haswritten Folk Tales of the Adisand Mishmi Folk Tales of Lohit Valley.What makes Yumlam Tana’s

poetry spectacular is his intro-spective and rebellious tone.While doing so, he exploits theNyishi/Abo Tani myth of manand tiger being brothers. In thetitle poem of his collection, TheMan and the Tiger, he writes:

A mere flow of blood in veins, agenetic identityWill not suffice to call a brother,my brother.

* * *So the tiger must stalk in the forestTo kill and spill blood forblind appetite.

His disappointment withthe ugly environment of corrup-tion everywhere:

The other day I decided to fightthe system/ that is corrupt.But the next moment I shirked to findThat I had to fight my own brothers/ who man the system.(‘A Person of Consequence’, p.42)

Yumlam’s poetry is witty, evocative and strikingly original.

Love is a power that ignitesWhen the river of passions ramsdown a high fallInto the turbine of hearts, / givinglight and luxury to a decaying soul.

(‘Hydro-electricity’, p.15)

The loss of human values keepsworrying Yumlam:

Why should we unleash/ so muchviolence/ directing warheadsAt each other’s integrity/ and hurl-ing missiles of abusesAcross every little frontiers?

Tage Donyi’s poems are assweet and simple as folk songs.

Happy animals grazing/ In lushgreen fieldsEcstatic birds flying/ Over therivers and the mountains,(‘Greeting Everyone’/ UntamedHeart)

A little more editing would haveimproved the collection.If the contributions of people

from other states working inArunachal Pradesh can be takeninto consideration, mention maybe made of Bipin Patsani, thewriter of this article, whose po-ems have been published in jour-nals and poetry anthologies inIndia and abroad, and translat-ed into Spanish and Portuguese.

Each fault is a new discovery inthe search for truth,And hence, a part of the creative process.What harm is there if Columbus

missed the wayAnd reached a continent?(‘Song of the Happy Cripple’ /In-dian Scholar, Jan 1981)

It is in the magic mountainsand woods of Arunachal that hefinds redemption:

Missing the way in the woods/ Iwas afraid with anticipations, But now I myself am lost in its vastness, / Its ferocity and lovelinessIn which I redeem.(‘Falling Again’/ Indian Scholar,Jan 1981)

Patsani has published three po-etry collections in English – Voiceof the Valley (1993), Another Voy-age and Homecoming (2010), andtwo others are ready for the press– This Life, This Death and TheBitter Canto.Man Mohan Nayak, another

poet from Odisha working inArunachal Pradesh as a teacher,has to his credit two poetry booksin English – Scattered Thoughtsand Ritzy Ripples, both publishedin 2001. Sometimes he broods on the

vanity of human behaviour.

Sweet memories/ are bruised andburiedUnder the burden/ of worldlyworries.Now, neither you nor I/ do ever tryTo fill the unwanted voidCreated cumulatively/ after thematrimonial tie.(‘Falling From Paradise’/RitzyRipples)

Ram Chandra Chutia has co-au-thored a book of poems. Dr Jo-gendra Nath, former principal ofRang-Fra College, Changlang, haswritten stories on local themesand a biography. Among otherswhose poems, stories and criti-cal writings have been publishedin different journals are KCMishra, Asim Padhi, N Nagaraju,GS Jha, P Nath and Juri Dutta.Bhaskar Saikia writes nice poemsand publishes them on the In-ternet. There are some others like BN Singh, RamanSandilya, NN Bora and Pradip Ku-mar Behera (editor, TheArunachal Front) who have pub-lished their writings either in Eng-lish or in their mother tongues. It is a matter of delight that sev-

eral literary groups are meetingregularly in different parts ofArunachal Pradesh to share thejoy of creative writing, inspiringone another to contribute to thegrowth of literature in this partof the country. And the questcontinues, the quest for identi-ty, for the meaning and purposeof living. �

Old voices and new:literature from ArunachalArunachal Pradesh is steadily making its presence felt in thesphere of Indian English literature, says Bipin Patsani

LIKE Meghalaya, givingArunachal Pradesh a San-skritised name was one ofthe ways in which the In-

dian State sought to give the landof the rising sun a more ‘main-stream’ identity. However, mostof what today comprises the statehas been relegated behind innerlines and named backwardand/or excluded tracts since thecolonial period. Even in the ‘post’-colonial period, Arunachal hashardly ever found any space inthe national imagination exceptat those times when the spectreof Chinese invasion has mani-fested itself or there have been in-direct disputes with the neigh-bouring giant in the form of po-litically incorrect maps, stapledvisas, denied official visits, and soon. Its refugee problems, under-development, identity politics,trespassing insurgents and bor-der disputes with the adjoiningstates and ecological hazards inthe form of mega dams have notbeen able to create much of abuzz. A margin within the mar-ginalised Northeast, Arunachalhas nonetheless remained one ofthe most peaceful states in thecountry. And in this perhaps, itholds up a lesson for the otherstates of the Northeast. As Yumlam Tana’s poetry –

which we carry in this issue ofNELit review – shows, the angerand the agony are all there. Theconsciousness of a distinctiveidentity, the angst associated withmarginalisation, all of it is re-flected in the contemporary lit-erature emanating fromArunachal. Bipin Patsani gives usan overview of this literature inour Frontispiece. And yet, theArunachalis have never taken toarms in a big way, like theircousins in most other states ofthe region have. In their forbear-ance and fortitude then, the peo-ple of this ethnically diverse place– one of the last bastions of na-ture’s untouched beauty andabundance in the Northeast –should lead the way for otherswho had it all and lost much, mostof it through their own misplacedreliance on insurgent violenceand lack of political maturity. �

The risingsun

THE world is not fair,” com-plained Robbie.

“What happened, dude, did some-one piss you off?” I asked.“No, the gap between the richand the poor is growing big everyday. Why can’t there be a worldwhere everyone is equal? Howwonderful it would be – no poor,only rich people!” said Robbie.“Well, I don’t know how wonder-ful that would be, but if that everhappens I think there would bechaos in the street. Just think,everybody being rich will nolonger work for anyone. Therewould be dustbins filled with crap;there would be no road mainte-

nance, no one to fix the brokenlift, no one to mend the powerfailure, no one to run the trainsor fly the planes. I guess this waythe world would come to a totalstop,” I said, contradicting him.“How can you say that, dude?”asked Robbie..“Okay. Let me tell you a story. Iguess you have heard about Con-fucius, the great Chinese philoso-pher of fifth century BC. One dayhe heard that a 14-year-old boywas attracting a large number ofdevotees eager to meet him andlisten to his great words. He him-self being a wise person, Confu-cius thought of meeting him andso he went. When he got the

chance to meet the boy he askedhim this question: ‘Why do youthink there is so much of a dif-ference among the people, someare so well-off, some has noth-ing to live on?’ The boy replied:‘The world runs in that way. Ifyou think everyone should beequal, then you want to implythat everything on the face ofearth should be equal. Thatmeans mountains should comedown and become plains; oceansshould fill up and become plains.In this way, the earth would be alarge, barren, lifeless flat track,because the rivers will not havemountains to flow through intothe plains to meet the oceans!The entire life supporting systemwill stop because the earth is flat’.“It is the unevenness of the earththat supports life,” I ended. �

FATHER, my past never stops tormenting me. It hasmade my life hell. . Help me, father, before I dosomething stupid with my life,” pleaded John.

The priest asked, “Do you often recall your past? Doyou spend a lot of time during the day rememberingyour past?”“Yes” comes the reply.“Son”, said the priest, “life is the name of a journey thatis coming, not one that has gone. You can revisit yourpast, that is never a problem; but don’t stay back, stuckin your past. Learn from sheep, which always move onin search of new pastures.” �

RADHA was crying after failingto deliver her speech in theschool speech competition.

“Why are you crying, my child?”asked her teacher.“Because I failed, teacher. BecauseI was unable to control my stagefright while delivering my speech,”Radha sobbed.“No Radha, you have not failed, youjust made a mistake,” consoledthe teacher.“Yes, I made a stupid mistake. It wasmy stupidity.” “Don’t be so hard on yourself.You made a mistake, but thatwasn’t stupidity.” “But does that make any difference,

teacher? The end result is the same.”“No my child, mistakes and stupid-ity are different things. When wedo something without experienceand fail, then it’s called mistake, butwhen we do something with priorexperience and fail, then it’scalled stupidity.”“But what about my classmates?They think that I am stupid.”“You can’t control what others thinkabout you, can you? Why lose yourmind over what you can’t control.It’s up to you to prove them right orwrong by your action. Action is moreimportant than brooding over thepast and worrying about the future,”concluded the teacher. �

Love makes life meaningful

FRONTIS PIECE

iNKPOTBHASKAR SAIKIA

PREM and Suraj are talking about love.

“As you know Prem, it’s great to be in love every day!” said Suraj..“Agreed, but love has its own difficulties. And there are a lot of adjust-ments to be made with your partner,” replied Prem, “And sometimesthat’s not cool.”Smiling, Suraj said: “A coin without tail is meaningless; why do youthink love should be an exception?”“That’s so true, bro.”And they keep on walking towards the sunset point by the bank of theBrahmaputra. �

Mistake vs stupidity

��������

MAMANG Dai’s works are delicacies from the hills ofArunachal Pradesh, served with love and ethnic pride

A writer and poet, Bhaskar Saikia publisheshis works on the Internet

Uneven world Learn from sheep,move on!