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.