1983 Assam Assembly Elections

I chose to join Assam Rifles Public School. In the meantime elections for the Assam Assembly were declared. I didn’t have anything to do with the elections, I resigned. The Principal, Mr Sulen Basumatary, asked me to hang on for some more time till the elections were over. I was in no hurry actually, so I agreed to stay back for some more time and gave one month’s notice. The people of this area had a horrifying experience of the Central Reserve Police (popularly known as CRP). I will refer to this elsewhere. The Assam Students’ Union had declared that any one submitting his/her nomination would be killed along with their family members. Same would be fate of people performing election duties. Many teachers and some non-teaching members of the staff were appointed as Presiding and Polling Officers. They thought the CRP would come any time and drag them for election duty. Another community (which was in a minority here) was against the elections till the electoral rolls were revised according to their choice. I was in a fix. So I talked to my colleagues who were opposing the polls that I had to accept the assignment as I had already resigned from Tukrajhar Higher Secondary School and about to join a school under the control of the defence forces. They agreed with me. Whereas they would not themselves be a part of the election process, they would not however be a hurdle to my joining the said polls. In fact, that was going to my first poll as an Election Officer. I hadn’t even voted in any election earlier. My name had never appeared in the Voters’ List. In fact, I always thought the booths set up by different political parties were the polling booths. So, excitement inside me was quite high. The Presiding Officers’ Handbooks were distributed quite ahead of time and I had ample opportunity to over the Handbook over and over again. We even managed to attend the training session. Then onwards everyday all my colleagues would run away to the river bank during the day to return only in the evenings. I requested a colleague, Mr Brahma, a next door neighbour not do this. This was really humiliating. If he didn’t want to join the elections he could easily run away on the day when actually the police would arrive. (We had been informed of the date.) He agreed. On the day, when we would depart for the election duty, one teacher from another school came to our staff quarters. I was happy I had some one on my side, besides Mr Brahma was said he was with me. The principal cam in the morning as was happy to find that three of us were willing to go. As the day progressed I suddenly heard a lot of commotion and a lot of sound (sounded like pelting of stones – I had seen communal riots in Meghalaya and heard a lot of them in Assam). I came out of my quarters to find all my colleagues (even those who hadn’t been appointed – the feeling was that any one could be picked up) running across the small wooden bridge, and along went Mr Brahma, the neighbour and the teacher who had arrived in the morning. I was left alone. What had lead to this ‘escape’ was the fact that the police had arrived in the school. I packed my belongings and went to meet the principal. With moist eyes, he could only say, ‘God bless you’. No one was sure whether I would return alive. The police took the list people who were absent. I boarded the bus along with rifle bearing glum faced policemen. The bus stopped in Bengtal (4 kilo metres away) near the Police Station. There one more person boarded. Straightaway he started grumbling – ‘Don’t know what’s going to happen – whether at all I will return alive’. I told him not to crib. He would otherwise spread his fear among all others. Else he was free to get down from the bus. He kept quiet after that. We reached Kokrajhar, the Sub-Divisional HQ, were the distribution of materials would take place. I met the Zonal Officer, a BDO – a nice man, but couldn’t find my First Polling Officer, without whom I was reluctant to receive the polling materials. I was told that the First Polling Officer was normally an experienced person. Slowly, the other polling officers arrived. The One policeman arrived with a lathi (baton). ‘Whose is Bhumka?’ My Polling Station was Bhumka. I said it was mine. He said, ‘I am yours’. It did sound funny but had to pretend that everything was OK. I was looking for more Bengalis around to be ‘safe’, at least I thought so. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Liaqut Ali.’ ‘Bengali?’ ‘No, I am a Muslim’. ‘Where do you come from?’ ‘Dhubri’. I got what I wanted to know, he was a Bengali. In fact, most of the conversation was in Bengali itself. ‘Fine, where’s your rifle?’ ‘They aren’t issuing rifles.’ ‘You aren’t going without a rifle.’ He grudgingly left to get a rifle. Some one told me, that the police weren’t happy carrying such load. Well he got a rifle, only years later someone told me had he any bullets with him? I really don’t know. At last I was coaxed to collect the polling materials in absence of the First Polling Officer. At last the Zonal Officer announced the arrival of the First Polling Officer. It was a different person though. He said, ‘I liked your name, so I came.’ I knew what he meant but preferred to keep silent. One of the polling officers got some money lying in front of us. We asked who’s it was but couldn’t find out. We used it for food on the polling day. There was no movement that day. We spent the night in the bus. The first Polling Officer sat by side the whole night. The back rest of the seats were fixed. So, we slept sitting straight in the uncomfortable seats. The next morning Mr Ram Hazarika (I think that was the name of the First Polling Officer) returned after taking tea and said, ‘Sir, I think I might be beaten up by the local boys here after I return from poll duty.’ Well, I didn’t have a solution, nor could I offer him security. I told him as much. He returned after yet another sojourn and said, ‘Sir, of all the people gathered here, all are Bengalis, only we two are ‘real’ Assamese.’ He took me to be an Assamese because of my surname. In fact when he had told me that he had come as he liked my name I had presumed he had taken me to be an Assamese. It was time to put things right. I told him, I was a Bengali too. He had a shock of his life and asked to be released immediately. I asked the Zonal Officer for advice. He said, it was up to me. Mr Hazarika offered to stay with us till we departed and told me the names of people who might help us get food and other necessities (well, no one actually helped though). I released him and he did stay with us till we left. I actually felt sorry for him. Ultimately, we started in our journey a little later. We reached the hamlet towards the evening. It was a newly build primary school. Personnel form the Village Defence Party and locals arrived to greet us.

Sapatgram College

Now I had to see Sapatgram College with my own eyes. I had heard of this place as it was the home town of the Assistant Headmaster of my school. Mr Monoranjan Bhattacharji left for this place after he retired. I had to see what was the impact of the ongoing agitation, spearheaded by the All Assam Students Union, in this place. On my return from Shillong on way to Tukrajhar I paid a visit to Sapatgram. It was a small place. I met the Principal-in-Charge, Mr Shakti Mukherji (I am not too sure of the name) who took me to a PWD Inspection Bunglow (IB). I had never been to an IB before. I wasn’t sure if I could pay the rent. I wasn’t carrying enough money. So, I thought I might have to take a loan from the principal, that means I was already stuck in Sapatgram. A mild Hindu-Muslim prevailed there. Hindus mostly lived on one side of the railway tack while Muslims lived on the other. I had chosen the date in such a way that the next day happened to be general strike (Bandh) called by the said Students’ Union. The Principal later took me the President of the Governing Body, who happened to be a timber merchant. In the evening he took me to a pharmacy owned by Dr Kar, who happened to be the uncle of a classmate of mine. There I met some teachers of the college. A heated discussion was going on. A teacher of Bengali used to teach English in the absence of an English teacher. A student had gone to watch the ASIAD Games in Delhi. After his return he entered the class with a tie round his neck. He was asked to leave the class by this teacher. I was unnerved. I was wont to wearing a tie and also preferred a coat at my back. Would I also be not allowed inside the class? Everything else was fine though. The next day was the ‘bandh’. I went to the college a met lot of other people. The ‘bandh’ had an effect – mostly in the outskirts though. I stayed two nights there. When I was about to leave in the morning I asked the attendant how much I had to pay. He talked of a register to be signed. When it was brought I repeated my question I got an answer by thought I hadn’t heard it properly. So once again I repeated my question and got the same answer. Disbelieving I gave him a five rupee note. The attendant said he didn’t have the change. I was too happy to ask him to keep the change. My room rent was one rupee a day. Of course I had spent for the food separately. Even the food he used to bring was plenty – most of it had to be returned. At last I returned to Tukrajhar not to return to Sapatgram again. I was not happy about the ‘bandh’ situation. I preferred joining Assam Rifles Public School in Shillong

Assam Rifles Public School

I left Zunheboto and got admitted into a teachers’ training course (B.Ed) but soon realized that it was difficult to carry on without a personal income, parents were helping though. So ultimately I landed up in Tukrajhar Higher Secondary School. I was looking for a job around Shillong. So I started applying for jobs once again. Once again, I received more than once call – one an Appointment Letter and another, a call for interview. The appointment was for a college – Sapatgram College, which was near Tukrajhar. The interview was for a school – Assam Rifles Public School, which was in Shillong. I went for the interview first. This was the second time I was facing an interview in this school. I was not selected the first time, though I thought I had done everything correctly. A university professor who loved me ventured to go to the school and ask why I was not selected. The principal said I was not ‘mature’ enough. During the second interview my approach was very casual. I was not bothered if I was not selected – I had a job under my belt. I started late – didn’t take any preparation. There were four members in the Interview Board. The chairman was Colonel Sahani. On his right was the Principal, Mr M.N. Tankha, next was the Vice-Principal, Mr S. Banerji. On the left of the chairman was Major Kumaria, the Bursar. I was not happy as I hadn’t been selected the first time, so I was not going to be very humble. The chairman shot the first salvo – what’s your name? I wanted to tell him, he knew my name already as he had called me, but decided otherwise. I told them that my name was ‘Aniruddha’. ‘What’s the meaning of your name?’ asked the chairman. I said – free. ‘Free as what – wind?’ ‘No sir, wind is obstructed by mountains, buildings etc. I am free from all that.’ A laughter followed. The mood inside the room suddenly changed. ‘Can you think of any one in our epics with the same name?’ ‘Yes, Aniruddha was Lord Krishna’s grandson.’ ‘You are elevating yourself to that height?’ ‘Sorry Sir, it was my parents who gave me that name and not me.’ The chairman smiled. Others were tight lipped as I interacted with the chairman. It was the turn of the principal now. I had to take my revenge. ‘So Mr Burmon (he stammered), you have done your MA in English Literature?’ I had to be cautious. Literature – means any one could ask questions from almost any where. I played a trick. I said, ‘Sir, the thrust in my Master’s was linguistics.’ ‘Haven’t you done anything in literature?’ ‘Yes, but a small part, it was linguistics mainly.’ It was actually the other way round. This lie saved my day. It was difficult for a lay person to ask any question from linguistics. ‘Haven’t you done anything in literature?’ ‘Yes, a small part.’ ‘Can you name some authors?’ ‘Authors form which country – Australia, India, Nigeria, South Africa?’ ‘Well India.’ ‘R. K. Narayan, Nirad C. Chaudhuri, Raja Rao, Anita Desai … ….’ ‘Who of these do you like most?’ I wanted to play safe – ‘R. K. Narayan.’ – not a popular name then. ‘Can you name some of his works?’ ‘Guide, The English Teacher, The Man Eater of Malgudi.’ ‘Which of these do you like most?’ ‘Guide’. The interviewer was not very sure what to ask. ‘Can you name some poets?’ I wanted to give him a chance. ‘Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, Byron.’ The Principal beamed. ‘Can you tell us something about Keats?’ ‘What do you want to know about Keats?’ ‘Can you name any poem of his?’ I chose a not very common one – ‘Terror of Death.’ Again, it was difficult to ask any question from an unknown piece. ‘Can you tell me something about this poem?’ ‘Well, I don’t remember the poem, I read it long back (I was actually teaching it the year before), I can tell you the gist if you want.’ I told him the gist in a line. He then asked what other subject I could teach other than English. I said, I couldn’t teach any other subject. He insisted it was a school and I needed to teach another subject. I said that was not possible on my part. He wanted to know the reason. I said, ‘I don’t think I will be able to do justice.’ ‘I also teach Geography, do you think I don’t do justice.’ He was actually a Geography teacher I knew. Hence, I said, ‘I don’t think you do.’ Major Kumaria took on from the principal and asked me what subjects I was teaching in the previous school. I said, ‘English and Alternative English – both being English.’ Same was the case with Zunheboto College. The shock was awaiting me. Mr Banerji, the Vice-Principal, with big round eyes was noting down whatever I was saying. ‘So, Mr Burmon, you made a mention of Mr Nirad C. Chaudhuri.’ I sank. I had made mistake in mentioning this name. ‘Yes sir.’ My face said it all. ‘There’s a controversy about Mr Chaudhuri, could you name it.’ I admitted, ‘Sir, I am not in touch. I know of one controversy. I don’t know if there is anything else.’ ‘There’s only one.’ I was sweating inside. I almost wetted by pants. ‘He being pro-British?’ Mr Banerji agreed. Months later he asked me if I remembered the question he had asked. Well, I did. Surprisingly I got the job of Senior Subject Master in English.

I met a friend of mine who had gone there for the interview for the post of Biology teacher. He said, ‘Let’s join on the same day.’ He was not too happy working there in strange surroundings.