Flashback 1986 – II [For Part I please read : SPECIAL SERIES ON GORKHALAND ANDOLAN - Flashback - 1986 - Part one]
By: Gyanendra Yakso Subba Translation: The DC (The Darjeeling Chronicle) team
Following the incident I have already mentioned, it was impossible for us to continue living at our place, the Police and the CRPF would harass us almost on a daily basis.
When the Gorkhaland andolan started to pick pace we left home and moved to a place which was at a much higher elevation than our’s (Lek ma). It belonged to a relative of my Ama (my Grandmother’s sister’s daughter – Badi ko choree). Her palce was about 2 hours walk away from our house, it was close to Nepal border. They used to grow paddy, but only in the fields that were in lower region (Aul bari)... in there was a small two storied house which was called Kholma, the lower room contained a rice beater (Dhiki) and we were allowed to like in the upper room.
In addition to four sisters and three brothers and Ama, which consisted of our family, we also had with us our cousin brothers and sister. All of us had to leave home, as living at our own place meant that sooner or later we would either be arrested or get killed.
I don’t remember everything from those days, but one incident that I remember most clearly and to this day it hurts me. One day we were all playing outside and the lady whose place we were living in - our Badi’s youngest son came near us and he started to spread popcorns on the ground and signaled to us to come eat them – Aah.. aah.. aah... like we signal the chicken to come it grains we throw on the ground. I didn’t go... but I don’t know if others picked up the popcorns and eat them or not...
Imagine having to leave our home, without knowing how our Baba was doing and then being treated like an animal... I still feel very hurt when I remember that particular incident. We were children... we deserved better...
Even though we had moved to this new place high up in the hills, our cattle were still down below in our house. I remember we used to have this one particular cow, we used to call it Muruli, it didn’t have horns... it was bulky and white in colour and used to give a lot of milk.
When I was young, Ama tells me that I used to get sick a lot, so she used to feed me a lot of milk. I used to ear rice with milk and sometimes while eating in the warm porch I would fall asleep, and sometimes I could carry a plastic ball in one hand and my books and copy in the other and would walk to school with the rice and milk still in my mouth. But I digress...
So we had Muruli and other cattle that were still in the shed in our house which was like an hour adn a half to walk down to from where we were living, and every day we had to come down to feed them grass or kholey, and also to check if our house was still there or if it had been burnt down – like so many other houses were burnt down in those days.
Our house was built in a typical busty way, it was made of straw and bamboo covered with mud, and the base was made of stone (we don’t have that house anymore). I don’t know what Ama used to carry, most likely my Kancha bhai, but I remember carrying a small can containing the kholey (cooked fodder) for the cattle. I remember my hands hurting due to the weight of the can, which I would transfer from one hand to the other.
Once we reached home, mom would open the door and peer inside, our house used to be SILENT we didn’t have any chicken, or goat or pigs – we used to have, but not anymore... some we ate, most were taken away by CRPF.
I remember it used to be very hot... and every once in a while the wind would blow... and we could hear the rustling of the leaves from the nearby bamboo groves... Every time mom opened the door, there was a cat that would go outside... I never understood how the cat got into the house every day. Sometimes I would decline to go down to our house with Ama, I would continue playing with my brothers and sisters... and Ama would have to go down alone... all by herself...
Now when I reflect, I feel bad... wondering how much would Ama must have cried having to walk back and forth every day, from Lek (hill) to Aul (lower region)... Imagine having to leave the house which means everything to you... which contains all the memories of your family... which is all you have in the name of asset everyday... without knowing... when you come back tomorrow... if the house would still be there... I wonder how Ama got her will and her strength to continue doing so everyday...
I remember Ama teaching me to play music by folding Amleeso ko pat... I remember trying to play a tune... Pe Pe Pe...
Baba was never home... he must have feared for his life from CRPF and also from the opponents... All I remember is Baba would come every once in a while and bring a bagful of rice and murai (puffed rice) and disappear
[To be continued......................]
Source: DC
By: Gyanendra Yakso Subba Translation: The DC (The Darjeeling Chronicle) team
Following the incident I have already mentioned, it was impossible for us to continue living at our place, the Police and the CRPF would harass us almost on a daily basis.
When the Gorkhaland andolan started to pick pace we left home and moved to a place which was at a much higher elevation than our’s (Lek ma). It belonged to a relative of my Ama (my Grandmother’s sister’s daughter – Badi ko choree). Her palce was about 2 hours walk away from our house, it was close to Nepal border. They used to grow paddy, but only in the fields that were in lower region (Aul bari)... in there was a small two storied house which was called Kholma, the lower room contained a rice beater (Dhiki) and we were allowed to like in the upper room.
In addition to four sisters and three brothers and Ama, which consisted of our family, we also had with us our cousin brothers and sister. All of us had to leave home, as living at our own place meant that sooner or later we would either be arrested or get killed.
I don’t remember everything from those days, but one incident that I remember most clearly and to this day it hurts me. One day we were all playing outside and the lady whose place we were living in - our Badi’s youngest son came near us and he started to spread popcorns on the ground and signaled to us to come eat them – Aah.. aah.. aah... like we signal the chicken to come it grains we throw on the ground. I didn’t go... but I don’t know if others picked up the popcorns and eat them or not...
Imagine having to leave our home, without knowing how our Baba was doing and then being treated like an animal... I still feel very hurt when I remember that particular incident. We were children... we deserved better...
Even though we had moved to this new place high up in the hills, our cattle were still down below in our house. I remember we used to have this one particular cow, we used to call it Muruli, it didn’t have horns... it was bulky and white in colour and used to give a lot of milk.
When I was young, Ama tells me that I used to get sick a lot, so she used to feed me a lot of milk. I used to ear rice with milk and sometimes while eating in the warm porch I would fall asleep, and sometimes I could carry a plastic ball in one hand and my books and copy in the other and would walk to school with the rice and milk still in my mouth. But I digress...
 |
| CRPF brought to Kalimpong in early 1986 by Bengal |
Our house was built in a typical busty way, it was made of straw and bamboo covered with mud, and the base was made of stone (we don’t have that house anymore). I don’t know what Ama used to carry, most likely my Kancha bhai, but I remember carrying a small can containing the kholey (cooked fodder) for the cattle. I remember my hands hurting due to the weight of the can, which I would transfer from one hand to the other.
Once we reached home, mom would open the door and peer inside, our house used to be SILENT we didn’t have any chicken, or goat or pigs – we used to have, but not anymore... some we ate, most were taken away by CRPF.
I remember it used to be very hot... and every once in a while the wind would blow... and we could hear the rustling of the leaves from the nearby bamboo groves... Every time mom opened the door, there was a cat that would go outside... I never understood how the cat got into the house every day. Sometimes I would decline to go down to our house with Ama, I would continue playing with my brothers and sisters... and Ama would have to go down alone... all by herself...
Now when I reflect, I feel bad... wondering how much would Ama must have cried having to walk back and forth every day, from Lek (hill) to Aul (lower region)... Imagine having to leave the house which means everything to you... which contains all the memories of your family... which is all you have in the name of asset everyday... without knowing... when you come back tomorrow... if the house would still be there... I wonder how Ama got her will and her strength to continue doing so everyday...
I remember Ama teaching me to play music by folding Amleeso ko pat... I remember trying to play a tune... Pe Pe Pe...
Baba was never home... he must have feared for his life from CRPF and also from the opponents... All I remember is Baba would come every once in a while and bring a bagful of rice and murai (puffed rice) and disappear
[To be continued......................]
Source: DC
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