It has been a decade since I last flipped through any book on Geography. While writing this article now, I am having a faint nostalgia. I wish I was better accustomed to the grammar of mapping but I'd carry on anyway.
The eastern part of West Bengal resembles a nipple. On that nipple lies an extremely pseudo-peaceful town, Balurghat. This town has many peculiarities. One such strangeness is embedded in history. India got her Independence on 15th August, 1947! Balurghat, on the other hand enjoys two Independence days: the first one being 14th August, 1947 and the other being 19th August, 1947. In a way, Balurghat, thus is both ahead of and behind its time. This feature is quite visible in yours truly as a matter of fact.
Balurghat opens up to India narrowly through its North-West. On all three sides it is surrounded by Bangladesh. This probably was the reason why Pakistan 'mistook' my hometown as their territory during her birth. But thanks to the Indian Army who recovered Mother India's estranged nipple swiftly, me and my forefathers can call ourselves Indians.
The fact that this place saw enormous trouble during 1971, thus does not appear as a shock. Ever since, Balurghat has been a calm place. As my friend says, temples outnumber cigarette shops in Balurghat. He might not be too far away from the truth. Everyone needs distractions. Federal Banks need wars, students need movies, sports, politicians need beef, sex-workers need love. Similarly, peace needs religion. The people of Balurghat have nothing to do! It is a place which will never have industries. So there is no scope for any 'development'. A river that never dries runs right through the heart of the town supplying ample fresh fish for the belly-caressing Bengali population. Hindus outnumber other communities by quite a few orders of magnitude. So there is absolutely no reason for violence. Yet, being a border town crime can't be far away.
The funny part is that being non-industrious, there isn't any crime that affects day to day lives of people on the surface. Hence, we don't see daily murders. We don't encounter kidnappings. The money sits on only one throne in Balurghat : Road development.
All the major mastans, living, dead and half-dead have a stake in the road contracts. Thankfully, the border is manned by the Army. So the smuggling has so far been controlled to quite an extent. The Balurghat Municipality till two years ago was probably one of the best in India in terms of service. Our roads were never dirty, let alone pitfalls. It was safe to say that Balurghat used to be a vibrant and clean countryside.
But then the windmills anti-rotated all throughout Bengal. And nipples too respond to passion, don't they? It has long been said that passions lead to sins. Sins leave effect; on body and the soul. The bodily effects have begun to show. The roads, yesterday's bike-ride proved have become a bed for water. Surely, those in power here, love to bounce. The Balurghat, I see today, is bereft of the life that entered our blood a decade back. Life in my hometown resembles the Jews of Kolkata. Migration has taught us to swim. As far as life is concerned, time proves that roots were never in fashion.
Someday, a book or a movie would pop up revealing the history of Balurghat; history of a group of Boys, the last remaining flag-bearers of the spirit of Balurghat. That piece of art would be amazing for it would show everyone that life enjoyed by those boys was something special. The roads, the school, the Pujo, the river-bridges, the fields, the cycles, the friendship; the history was special. Someday we would come back on pages or screens; someday, when we will be needed; after the destruction that awaits this country would claim for itself what it should; someday, we will be essential.
God doesn't play dice. Nature doesn't either.
The eastern part of West Bengal resembles a nipple. On that nipple lies an extremely pseudo-peaceful town, Balurghat. This town has many peculiarities. One such strangeness is embedded in history. India got her Independence on 15th August, 1947! Balurghat, on the other hand enjoys two Independence days: the first one being 14th August, 1947 and the other being 19th August, 1947. In a way, Balurghat, thus is both ahead of and behind its time. This feature is quite visible in yours truly as a matter of fact.
Balurghat opens up to India narrowly through its North-West. On all three sides it is surrounded by Bangladesh. This probably was the reason why Pakistan 'mistook' my hometown as their territory during her birth. But thanks to the Indian Army who recovered Mother India's estranged nipple swiftly, me and my forefathers can call ourselves Indians.
The fact that this place saw enormous trouble during 1971, thus does not appear as a shock. Ever since, Balurghat has been a calm place. As my friend says, temples outnumber cigarette shops in Balurghat. He might not be too far away from the truth. Everyone needs distractions. Federal Banks need wars, students need movies, sports, politicians need beef, sex-workers need love. Similarly, peace needs religion. The people of Balurghat have nothing to do! It is a place which will never have industries. So there is no scope for any 'development'. A river that never dries runs right through the heart of the town supplying ample fresh fish for the belly-caressing Bengali population. Hindus outnumber other communities by quite a few orders of magnitude. So there is absolutely no reason for violence. Yet, being a border town crime can't be far away.
The funny part is that being non-industrious, there isn't any crime that affects day to day lives of people on the surface. Hence, we don't see daily murders. We don't encounter kidnappings. The money sits on only one throne in Balurghat : Road development.
All the major mastans, living, dead and half-dead have a stake in the road contracts. Thankfully, the border is manned by the Army. So the smuggling has so far been controlled to quite an extent. The Balurghat Municipality till two years ago was probably one of the best in India in terms of service. Our roads were never dirty, let alone pitfalls. It was safe to say that Balurghat used to be a vibrant and clean countryside.
But then the windmills anti-rotated all throughout Bengal. And nipples too respond to passion, don't they? It has long been said that passions lead to sins. Sins leave effect; on body and the soul. The bodily effects have begun to show. The roads, yesterday's bike-ride proved have become a bed for water. Surely, those in power here, love to bounce. The Balurghat, I see today, is bereft of the life that entered our blood a decade back. Life in my hometown resembles the Jews of Kolkata. Migration has taught us to swim. As far as life is concerned, time proves that roots were never in fashion.
Someday, a book or a movie would pop up revealing the history of Balurghat; history of a group of Boys, the last remaining flag-bearers of the spirit of Balurghat. That piece of art would be amazing for it would show everyone that life enjoyed by those boys was something special. The roads, the school, the Pujo, the river-bridges, the fields, the cycles, the friendship; the history was special. Someday we would come back on pages or screens; someday, when we will be needed; after the destruction that awaits this country would claim for itself what it should; someday, we will be essential.
God doesn't play dice. Nature doesn't either.
No comments:
Post a Comment