When my daughter made a bowl with newspapers

By Shevlin Sebastian

When I was in Class 4 at the St. Xavier’s school in Kolkata, the class teacher Miss Peterson said that the students should make a chart of the city of Mumbai, along with photos of iconic monuments and the history of the city. It filled me with dread. I was poor at artwork — cutting pictures from magazines and writing text using a felt pen.  

Seeing the panic on my face, my mother helped me out. However, when the charts were put up on the wall, I got a shock. Miss Peterson selected mine as the best. I had no option but to blurt out, “Miss, my mother helped me.” 

She smiled, nodded and said nothing. I believe my honesty saved me that day. Throughout my school years, I always had this problem with practical projects. 

God knew when I had children, and they came to me for help with projects, my old helplessness would come to the fore. So, He gave me a break. 

Both my children, a boy and a girl, right from childhood were adept at doing projects on their own. They could do drawings, cut pictures, and paste them on chart paper. They suffered none of the nervousness which I went through. And they did not need any help. 

It was a relief.

And my daughter Sneha, throughout her childhood, amazed us with the original things she could make. I remember a coir bag, a man with a thick walrus moustache painted on the back of a coconut shell and a beautiful large chart, with paintings and photographs, which celebrated her grandmother’s birthday. 

Then a few days ago, in the afternoon, at our home in Kochi, I saw her take a sheet of a newspaper, cut it, then fold it, and using glue, she made a vertical frame, like a circular fort. Within the frame, at the bottom, she placed a round cardboard. Then Sneha interlinked paper sideways into the vertical frame, and soon the bowl gave the impression as if she had woven it. It was painted black on the outside. Then, using craft paper, which she cut deftly, Sneha made multi-coloured flowers and leaves and pinned it on a green sponge she had kept inside the bowl. Overall, the impact was stunning. 

And Sneha did all this, with songs by John Legend, Ed Sheeran, Sam Smith, Dean Lewis, James Arthur and Taylor Swift’s haunting new single, ‘Invisible Strings’, playing loudly on YouTube through the TV. 

So, amidst the raging pandemic, we enjoyed moments of joy.  

It also made me think about creativity. How some people have it and most don’t.

How things come so easily to the ones who have it.

Talented people, especially in the arts, are markedly different from normal people. They have an original thought process. They don’t follow a path laid down by others. They are keen to find their way. They listen to their intuition a lot. They don’t care what people think about them. They break the rules of morality and don’t feel any guilt.

In my career of interviewing a wide variety of people, artists have been the most interesting, whether it be in art, film, music or theatre. Journalists are not far behind. When you talk to these people, time stands still. The exceptional artists have magnetism and charisma. 

I believe in the proverb, many are called, but few are chosen.

Talent is a gift from God. But not all talent is popular. Again, a minority is given the talent that cuts through the hearts of a majority of people. Musicians like AR Rahman or RD Burman, singers like Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar, bands like Abba or the Bee Gees, or authors like Charles Dickens or Victor Hugo have it. There may be greater artists, but the majority cannot understand their work. 

This was confirmed by Rahman’s sister AR Raihanah, whom I met when she came to Kochi in 2015. And this is what she said, “My brother has been blessed with a God-given talent. Many music directors are geniuses. But nobody knows them outside Tamil Nadu. This mass appeal is a divine gift.”

So, for young people, the biggest question is: what do I have the talent for?  

Malayalam writer and public intellectual Mohana Varma told me recently that when he was sixteen, he was good at table tennis. But somewhere along the way, he felt that he did not have a genuine talent for it. So he stopped playing. He did not want to waste his time.

He also told me that his teenage grandson expressed an interest in painting. So Mohana arranged for an art teacher to teach him the techniques. But after three months, the grandson said, “I cannot paint images from my mind, but I am good at copying. I don’t think I have the talent.” 

Many people make mistakes in identifying the talent they have. There is an initial promise, and they think it is a genuine talent. But then it fades away. It could take a decade for this to happen. By then, it is difficult to start afresh. And one’s destiny is missed.  

To ensure a right decision is made, consulting your intuition seems to be the best way. For that to happen, you have to develop it. To develop it, you have to be reflective. And have the ability to go inside oneself. It’s not easy. 

But I believe that is the only way one can make the right decision. However, Mohana told me 90 percent of the people get this extraordinarily important decision wrong. 

But if you are lucky enough to be in the 10 percent, you will experience heaven every day.

Adventures of a freelance journalist

The Kochi-based Ramesh Menon, founder of Save The Loom, talks about his varied experiences

Pics: Ramesh Menon; Sushmita Sen (centre) with the 1994 Miss India title. Aishwarya Rai, first runner-up is on the left; Ramesh Menon (second from left) with a friend (extreme left) and Sushmita Sen (extreme right) with her then boyfriend Rajat Tare in Mumbai

By Shevlin Sebastian 

When freelance journalist Ramesh Menon was a child, his elder brother Suresh used to write in the ‘letters to the editor’ column of the local newspaper. Ramesh found it fascinating to see his brother’s byline. At that time he lived in Chandigarh where his father worked in the ACC cement company. 

Ramesh was a student of the DAV School. He first contributed to the school magazine with an essay called ‘My trip to Cape Comorin’. He was ten years old when he got his first byline. “It was a big thrill,” he says. He also started writing letters to the sports page of ‘The Tribune’. He kept doing it. 

As he grew older, he also wrote in magazines like ‘Sportsweek’, ‘Sportsworld’, ‘India Today’ and ‘Illustrated Weekly’. By the time Ramesh reached Class 10, he had 3000 published letters. 

So, it was no surprise Ramesh moved smoothly into a freelancing career. Thanks to that, for the next ten years, he had a series of unforgettable adventures...

Once, as a teenager, when Ramesh came to Kochi for his holidays with his parents, he read in the newspaper about a function being held in honour of Mollywood legend Prem Nazir at the TDM Hall. So, Ramesh went for it. He got access by saying he was from the press. He met Prem Nazir and Mohanlal. Ramesh asked Mohanlal for an interview. 

Mohanlal said he was shooting for a film in Ambalamugal. And Ramesh could come there the next day.

The next day, Ramesh went to the location and got in touch with Mohanlal’s assistant manager Rajan. 

After waiting for three hours, Mohanlal gave the interview. Ramesh says, “Not for one moment did he behave with me as if I was not a professional. He was polite, kind and warm. He talked to me nicely even though he was a superstar.” 

Even before he turned 18, Ramesh went to cover the 1990 Beijing Asian Games as a freelancer. In China, he was the youngest, out of 5438 journalists. A medal was presented to him. Ramesh was given an Indian jacket and became part of the delegation that took part in the march past. 

One highlight of the Games for him was when he went to the Great Wall of China with Indian athletic stars PT Usha, Shiny Wilson and Ashwini Nachappa. 

But Ramesh felt nervous. Before the start of the games, Ramesh and freelance photographer Pankaj Sharma had gone to the national camp which was held at the Sports Authority of India in Bangalore. 

Usha was training, under the guidance of her coach OM Nambiar. A senior New-Delhi-based woman journalist named Ritu Sarin had come to interview Usha. Ramesh was standing nearby. The athlete spoke in Malayalam and Nambiar did the translation. When Ritu asked a particular question, Usha said, “These press people will even kill me to get their headlines.”

Naturally, Nambiar didn’t translate it. “But I heard it,” said Ramesh. He sent a story to the Kolkata-based Sportsworld magazine with this quote. This became the headline of the cover story. 

So, Ramesh was scared to face Usha. 

At the Great Wall, Usha said, “You are the one who created so many problems for me.” 

Ramesh defended himself by saying, “You said it.” 

Usha smiled. 

In February 1991, the World Cup hockey championship was taking place in Lahore. Ramesh planned to cover it for the ‘Punjab Kesari’ newspaper. From Delhi, he took a bus to the Wagah border. When he entered the Pakistan immigration centre, they checked his luggage. Ramesh had a few film magazines. They set it aside. 

Then they called a senior officer and showed him the magazines. 

The officer said. “We do not allow this.” 

Ramesh said he is a journalist, so some magazines will always be with him. 

“Sorry, we cannot allow it,” said the officer. 

Ramesh did not protest when they confiscated the magazines. 

He took a taxi and went to Lahore 30 km away. 

But later, he came to know the reason for this. “There was a huge black market for Indian film magazines,” he says. “Most probably, they would have sold it and made a tidy profit.” 

When Miss India Madhu Sapre went to take part in the Miss Universe pageant at the Queen Sirikit National Convention Centre in Bangkok, in 1992, Ramesh was the only Indian journalist present. 

Against all expectations, Madhu won the second runners-up title. Ramesh got an exclusive interview. He also flew with Madhu when they returned to Mumbai. 

At the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport, Mumbai, Madhu held up the gold-plated trophy. But she was stopped at Customs. Madhu said, “I won this trophy at the Miss Universe competition.” 

The officer said, “People give many excuses. But too much gold smuggling is taking place these days.” 

So, she had to show all the brochures and photos before they were convinced. 

Ramesh went along with her to her home at Andheri (East). There was a pooja. He took some exclusive photos. After Ramesh wrote the story, he sold the story, as well as the photos, including the history of the pageant to 47 publications all over the country, including Femina, the official organisers of the pageant and in multiple languages. 

The 1994 Miss India contest, conducted by the Times of India group, was coming up. But the word was that Bollywood, as well as the fashion industry wanted Aishwarya Rai to win.

“Most ambitious girls dropped out thinking there was no chance,” says Ramesh. “The gorgeous-looking Aishwarya had made a name as a model.” 

In a nightclub in Delhi, a few days before the event, Ramesh met Ranjan Bakshi who was the regional marketing head of Times of India. In front of Ramesh, Ranjan told a few local models to apply, but they refused. However, one lanky model said she would take part. Her name was Sushmita Sen. 

Ramesh had already met Sushmita. He was sitting with fashion photographer Suvo Das at his studio in Delhi when a girl walked in asking that a portfolio be done. It was Sushmita. Ramesh and Sushmita bonded because of their mutual love for writing. 

Sushmita told Ramesh the reason behind her participation. Her mother had told her, “Beta, there is something called upsets. Life is all about that. It can happen to the best.”

Sushmita had no money. So, she went to Janpath and bought some clothes. 

In the contest, after several rounds, they announced the Top Five. Backstage, the make-up and dress designers fussed over Aishwarya. Sushmita got angry and said, “Why do you favour one person? We have all struggled and come. All five should be treated equally.” 

In the last round, Ramesh says, when you see the footage, Sushmita is coming up to the stage crying. That round went into a tie for the first time in the 42-year history of Miss India. They had to call Aishwarya and Sushmita back and answer a question once more. 

Designer Ritu Kumar asked Sushmita, “What do you know about the textile heritage of your country? How old has it been and what do you prefer to wear personally?”

Sushmita said, “Maam, I will answer it section by section.” 

Then she paused and said, “I think it all started with Mahatma Gandhi’s khadi. It has gone a long way since then, but the basics of Indian textile heritage lie in there. To answer the second part, I wouldn’t say it's khadi, but I like ethnic clothes, traditional Indian outfits because I personally feel I can carry them off very well, but otherwise I have a lot of western outfits as well.” 

When the marks of the judges were tallied, as Sushmita’s mom predicted, an upset had taken place. Sushmita scored 9.4 to Aishwarya’s 9.39 on a scale of 10. 

“It was as close as PT Usha losing her bronze medal in the 400m hurdles at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympic Games,” says Ramesh with a smile. 

Sushmita returned to Delhi. 

A few later, Ramesh met her and did an interview. 

Three weeks later, on February 12, Ramesh flew to Mumbai to cover the Filmfare awards. While there, he went to the Midday office and met the editor of the Sunday magazine, Carlos Monteiro. Ramesh gave him the transcript and the tapes of the interview with Sushmita. 

The next Sunday, the magazine headline said, “Aishwarya doesn’t deserve to win what she won,” says Sushmita Sen. 

The publisher of the Times of India, which conducts the Miss India show, called Sushmita and shouted, “Who the hell told you to give that interview? I will take your crown back.” 

Sushmita did not know what had happened. 

She started crying. 

She called Ramesh and said, “You messed it up for me.” 

Sushmita, Ramesh and her then-boyfriend Rajat Tare met at a cafe. There, Sushmita composed a hand-written letter in which she wrote, ‘My apologies. Ramesh is a dear friend, Whatever we spoke was in a personal capacity. It was also misconstrued.’ This was faxed to the publisher. 

The publisher called Ramesh and said, “You give me a statement stating that ‘Midday’ twisted your words. I will allow you to write for ‘Times of India’.” 

Ramesh said, “I am a small journalist. I am not working with anybody. I cannot deny a tape which I had surrendered to ‘Mid-Day’. It’s unfair to my reputation. My hands are tied. So I’ll suffer not writing for ‘Times of India’ and stand by my story.”

It’s not only beauty queens that Ramesh met, but bandit queens also. Once when he went to do a story at New Delhi’s Tihar Jail, in 1994, he got a tip that dreaded dacoit Phoolan Devi was going to be released the next day, after an 11-year jail term. Using his jail contacts, Ramesh came to know that Phoolan would be going to her uncle’s house at Kingsway Camp. So the next afternoon, Ramesh and photographer Pankaj Sharma went directly to the house. Phoolan was at home. She was sitting cross-legged on a coir cot in a saree. 

“She had a pleasant smile on her face,” says Ramesh. 

It was difficult for Ramesh to reconcile this simple woman sitting in front of him, looking so harmless, as being the dreaded leader of a dacoit gang which had killed 22 men during a massacre at Behmai village in Uttar Pradesh on February 14, 1981. “She looked like any woman from the rural areas,” he says. “If she walked past you on the road, you would not look at her twice.” 

When Ramesh asked what freedom meant to her Phoolan said, “I am starting anew. It is going to be a new life.” 

For Ramesh, this meeting with Phoolan was a scoop. “No other media was present,” he says. “All of them came to know a day later.” 

Later, Phoolan entered politics and became a two-time Member of Parliament from Mirzapur as a member of the Samajwadi Party. 

However, tragedy struck, when, on July 26, 2001, Phoolan was shot dead by three masked assailants. One of the killers Sher Singh Rana was sentenced to life imprisonment in 2014. 

As for Ramesh, these days, he has moved in a new direction. He runs the non-profit community group, ‘Save The Loom’, which aims to revive the handloom industry in India.

(Published in Mathrubhumi -- English edition)

What's your name?

This is my first attempt at poetry after decades.

I have been inspired by MV Fabiyas, a poet who lives in a village in North Kerala, but publishes poems all over the world.

Here's the link to my write-up about him:

https://shevlinsebastian.blogspot.com/…/the-village-poet.ht…

And here's my poem:

What’s your name?

By Shevlin Sebastian

I am so happy

My mother gave me an unusual first name

For somebody who lives in India.

When I utter it

People squint their eyes

Their eyebrows shoot up

Sometimes, they open their mouths

Trying to figure out

Whether I am Hindu, Muslim,

Christian, Jain, Parsi, Sikh or Jew

They want desperately

To pigeonhole me

And once pigeonholed

They can let their prejudices rise up

Like a nuclear submarine

Coming up to the surface

But with this first name

They can’t do that

No other name, they ask?

No, I lie.

Let them stew

In their frustrations

Such awful people

These racists,

These bigots,

These fascists.

Thank you, Mother!

(Published in AllPoetry.com)

https://allpoetry.com/Shevlin_Sebastian

Making money off the body

Benyamin’s engaging novel, ‘Body and Blood’ explores the interstice between organ donation and a religious group

By Shevlin Sebastian 

One morning, in June, 2016, award-winning Malayali author Benyamin was reading the newspaper at his home in Pandalam, Kerala. When he came across a particular news item, he held his breath. 

Several leading surgeons in Delhi had been part of an international kidney transplant racket. One Dr Deepak Shukla, the CEO of the Pushpawati Singhania Research Institute, along with a few others had been arrested. 

“Organ donation is an important concept,” says Benyamin. “Many people can get a new life because of this. These are vital parts of the human body. It was difficult for me to imagine that people could do a trade in this.” 

It sparked an interest in him to write a novel. After doing research, it took about two-and-a-half years to write the book. It was originally published in Malayalam with the title, ‘Sareera Shastram’ in 2017. 

The story starts simply enough. A character named Midhun has a bike accident in Delhi. The injuries are minor but a day after he is admitted to a hospital he takes a turn for the worse and passes away. Subsequently, his organs are donated to six people. 

Midhun’s friends Ragesh, Sandhya and Rithu, who work in multinational companies are part of a Christian fellowship group run by Pastor Sam Philips. 

“The story is about how pastors draw people into their religion and how the priests are also connected with organ trafficking,” says Benyamin. “Accidents are deliberately staged so that people are injured, taken to a hospital, put into a coma, and their organs are harvested.”  

The trio feels suspicious and starts their investigations. The middle of the book has the tautness of a mystery novel. One character Aunty Jovana explains, with simplicity, the reasons behind the racket: “What is important to everyone is money. Belief is just a cover. It is sad that my Xavier also fell into the net.” 

It is a smooth read. Sentences are lucid and crisp thanks to an excellent translation by brand consultant Swarup BR. Many chapters are only two or three pages long. The story is not confined to Delhi but moves to Goa, Kasol (Himachal Pradesh), Bhopal, Chennai and Pune, where some characters have their hometowns. 

Along the way, Benyamin throws off lines that make you pause and ponder: 

a) Life is a football game between dreams and fate. 

b) Who am I? Why am I? How am I? How long has man been asking this to himself and God? It is unbearable that every generation ends up asking the same question. It’s time God gave up his silence. 

c) This is the age of tele-evangelists who travel the world in their private jets, charging crores for a one-hour session on TV. What business does that poor carpenter from Nazareth have here?

d) Every question has two answers. The right one and the polite one. The person who asks must decide which answer is required. 

e) There is no point in knowing the secrets of powerful people. Even if we try to know them, it will be in vain — they will remain secrets forever. 

It is a well-produced book. The 229-page novel, priced at Rs 499, and published by HarperCollins, seems to be the size of a Kindle reader. And the cover illustration, by the UK-based Joy Gosney, is simple and vivid. 

A young man, drawn chin downwards and in black, lies on an operation table. There are slashes on his stomach, a drop of blood, and scalpels and other instruments at the side. His left arm is attached to a tube, while his spread fingers seem to show terror or helplessness. The title is in the colour of blood. 

Interestingly, some readers have seen red. They have told Benyamin that the book seems to be an inspiration for the Mollywood film, ‘Trance’, which was released on February 20. In the film, actor Fahadh Fasil plays the role of a Christian pastor called Joshua Carlton who performs hoax miracles. “Many scenes seem to be lifted straight from the novel,” says Benyamin. “However, the link to organ trafficking is not there.” 

Confined to his home because of the coronavirus pandemic, Benyamin is not worried his book has been released in its midst.

“I believe people are reading more these days because they are stuck at home,” he says. “They are buying books through the digital format since it can be accessed so easily.” 

But he admits that the stamina to read large novels is going down. “This is more true among youngsters,” says Benyamin. “They do not want to read a book beyond 250 pages.”  

Times have changed. Benyamin remembers reading the novels of Booker Prize winner Salman Rushdie. “The plot starts only after 50 pages,” he says. “Rushdie talks about a lot of things before he reaches the story. I don’t think that type of writing will be accepted now. People want the story to move forward quickly. They have been influenced a lot by the visual media.”

The winner of the inaugural 2018 JCB Prize for Literature pauses and adds, “The era of literary gimmicks is over. We have to attract a reader within the first five pages, otherwise, we will lose him or her forever.”

To work harder on his prose, Benyamin has become that rare species: the full-time writer. In 2014, he returned from Bahrain after working there for 20 years, and settled down in his hometown.  

Asked about his current life, Benyamin says, “It is much more pleasant being a full-time writer. For one I can devote more time to literature. Secondly, it has become easy for me to travel, as I am not working for anybody. I can attend a lot of literary meets in Kerala, and abroad.”

For example, last year, he attended the Berlin International Literature Festival. “The drawback is that there are a lot of literary meets which take place, and it is difficult to say no,” he says. “But the writer should always be at his desk writing.”

Not surprisingly, his next novel is about travel. “I am collecting material on it,” he says, with a smile. 

(Published in scroll.in)

Autumnal musings

As he celebrates his 84th birthday on July 8, public intellectual and writer Mohana Varma looks back on his life

By Shevlin Sebastian 

One day, the editor of a vernacular magazine asked writer Mohana Varma to do an interview with former chief minister K Karunakaran during the Lok Sabha elections of 1998. Karunakaran was standing from the Mala constituency. So Varma attended two rallies. Then at 8 p.m., he had a one-on-one interview with the veteran politician at the Thrissur government guest house. 

Varma said, “Many eminent leaders, like Abraham Lincoln, Mahatma Gandhi, Vladimir Lenin, and Mao Zedong, in their old age were worried that they were unsuccessful. Do you have a similar worry?” 

Karunakaran looked at Varma and said, “Nobody has asked me a question like this.” 

Varma continued, “I am 100 percent sure, you are unhappy. So, tell me what is your major worry?”

Karunakaran said, “My only worry is that India did not have a national leader after [Prime Minister] Jawaharlal Nehru.” 

In other words, Karunakaran should have been that leader but did not get the  opportunity.  

Public intellectual Varma turns 84 on July 8. Asked his philosophy of life, he said, “I try to see the good in people.”  

And he recounted an anecdote. 

One day, an aunt of Varma, Kunjamai, came to his house for a visit. He was not at home. His wife Radha opened the door. They stared at each other in silence. Then Radha went to the kitchen. When Varma returned home, Kunjamai told him about this incident. 

“I can interpret this action of Radha in two ways,” said Kunjamai. “Firstly, she did not like me coming. Secondly, milk is boiling on the gas stove. So, she is hurrying to switch it off. I decided to think it is the second option even if the first is the correct one.” 

Varma said, “Kunjamai selected the positive conclusion. Which is what we all should do. Everybody has good and bad qualities within them. Look for the good ones.”   

Varma is one of the well-known writers in Kerala. He has written 75 books, two of which are in English while the rest is in Malayalam. His work comprises novels, short stories, and travelogues. “I am a storyteller,” he said.   

He started writing at 31 when he was stationed in Madhya Pradesh (MP). As an auditor in the government of India, he would travel a lot. “I learnt so many things, which otherwise I would not have learnt,” he said. “I understood the psychology of the people of Bihar, Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, apart from MP.” 

Not surprisingly, his first book was called, ‘From Bastar, with love’ (1966). It did well and established Varma’s name. “I was writing something which people did not know about,” he said. “I had a straightforward style, so readers could understand my prose.” 

However, Varma retired from writing two years ago. His last novel, ‘Sivaramjiyude Diarykurippukal’, was about political changes which happened in the 1920s-30s. And the reason he stopped was that all his readers were above 50 years of age. He realised that young people did not read at all. 

Asked why, Varma said, “From literature, we get knowledge and entertainment. But since we can get this from other sources, like Google, mobile, TV and streaming, reading is going down.”

But Varma remains upbeat, a public intellectual, who appears on TV channel discussions most evenings. Not surprisingly, he has friends in all the political parties. “Like everybody, they want power, money, fame and honours,” he said. 

As to whether they are corrupt he said, “Even you will be if somebody offers a bribe to you. Because nobody has offered you money, you condemn the politician. The system is corrupt. If you are not, you cannot survive. Corruption is not only monetary but it is also inefficiency and ignorance of the political leadership in taking decisions, which affect the people.”   

So, it comes as no surprise when Varma discourages people from entering politics. 

“I know of too many people who went into politics and could not bring about any change,” he said. “In our democracy, most of the time, families are ruling. The Congress cannot have a Prime Minister from outside the Gandhi family. The Nationalist Congress Party cannot have somebody in prominence from outside the Sharad Pawar family or their nominees. This is the case in Orissa, Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, and Kerala. Most of the parties in Kerala are family-based.” 

Even in the Communist Party, there is no difference. “An unknown person cannot be a member of the Politburo,” he said. “A panchayat president can only become a panchayat president. He cannot go higher than that. But an MLA’s son can become an MLA. To move from zero to 100 is blocked in most professions in India.” 

But on the social front, the blocks are weakening. The pervasive presence of caste has gone down, at least when people are interacting with each other in social settings. “But when people go for a job, they will take advantage of their caste, if there is a quota, to get a leg up,” said Varma.  

The man-woman relationship has also evolved. When Varma was in college, it was very difficult for a male student to talk to a female classmate. If anyone attempted to do so, everybody would stare at them. But now boys and girls are going out together. There is no difference between the sexes.

Finally, when asked about the qualities needed to succeed, Varma said, “You need to identify the correct talent within you. Unfortunately, 99 percent of the people cannot do this correctly. They feel they are good at something but that is not the case. By the time they realise it many years have gone past. Do not venture into a profession for which you have no skill.”

(Published in Mathrubhumi English)

We are happy but worried

Even as many Naga students are happy at the initiative taken by the Nagaland state government as well as the centre to provide them with transport to go back to their homes, from different parts of the country they are never free of the lurking fear of racism against them 

Pics:  Kekhrie Sachu; Akhu Assumi; inside the bus

By Shevlin Sebastian 

Naga student Kekhrie Sachu has been doing his computer sciences course at the Bansal Institute of Engineering and Technology at Lucknow. He has been studying in the city for the past five years. From March, because of the COVID19 pandemic, he had been staying in the hostel.

Then on June 4, the North-East students were allowed to return. There was a pickup point at Star Centre, ENT in Gomti Nagar. There were around 23 students and professionals. A bus had been arranged by the Nagaland State Government. The officials had responded to a request from the Naga Students Union (UP). It was a direct journey to Nagaland, a distance of 1445 km.  

Along the way, at lunchtime, in Gorakhpur, the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) shocked the students by providing lunch packets. They also provided biscuits, dry fruits and bottles of water. 

It took about three days of almost constant travelling. On the way, there were only washroom stops. And other CRPF units which provided food and water. 

“We were amazed that the police gave us food packets,” he says. “They were warm and welcoming. We took some photos with them.” 

When they reached Kohima, the group collected about Rs 3390 and gave it to the two drivers as a token of their appreciation. 

Akhu Assumi is a teacher of the Krishna Public School in Azamgarh. He teaches students from Class 1-8 in English and general knowledge. Akhu is also the sports coach. The students play football and cricket. Akhu has been in the school for one years.

He also travelled back by bus.  

“I was so happy when the police helped us,” he says  

They are all at home. Akhu stays in the town of Dimapur, while Kekhrie lives in Kohima. He is not sure whether he will be going back in the near future. 

The Delhi-based music impresario Lanu Yaden admits that in the initial stages of the pandemic, the North-East people had been stigmatised in the capital. A 25-year-old Manipuri woman was shopping in the Mukherjee Nagar area. A middle-aged man came up to her, shouted “Corona '' and spat betel juice on her T-shirt. 

“Thankfully, the media picked up on the incident. It became big news,” says Lanu. “All over the country, people have shouted at the North-East people and said ‘Corona/Chinese’.” 

The Home Ministry sent a circular to the Director Generals of Police, and Commissioners of Police to look into this. ‘Strict action should be taken against the perpetrators’ was the order. 

Like most people from the North-East, Kekhrie has faced some stigma. When he goes to the centre of Lucknow, some people have called him ‘Chinese’ or ‘Nepali’. 

“These are ignorant and uneducated people,” says Kekhrie. “They don’t know where we come from. They don’t realise we are fellow Indians. Sometimes, I would get upset. But most of the time I ignored it.” 

Adds Akhu, “A few people have also called me a Chinese or Nepali. They are showing their ignorance,” he says. 

Asked about the repercussions, following the India-China conflict at the border, Kekhrie says, “Things might take a turn for the worse. We are hoping, there will come a time when people will realise we are from the Northeast and not China.” 

Lanu says the elders have warned all the people they should be very careful when they are travelling in public places following the developments in Ladakh. “Not many people in North India know that the Naga and Assam regiments are stationed at the Ladakh border, as I speak,” says Lanu. 

Lanu is sad that most people live in a bubble. “They don’t know anything apart from their gullies and mohallas,” he says. “It is a typically narrow-minded mentality. Those who are from the South are all Madrasis and in the East, we are all Chinese.” 

The situation has been aggravated because many people of the North-East go all over India in search of job opportunities. So there is tension with the locals about this. 

“Anywhere in the world, when people come from outside, they have more drive, zeal, and a heightened capacity for hard work,” says Lanu. “When the locals see that the outsiders are doing better than themselves an animosity arises.”   

But what most of the locals don’t understand is that many of the landlords of the houses in which the North East people and other migrants live depend on the rents for their survival.

But envy is difficult to be contained. “They see these people start their own businesses and shops and do very well,” says Lanu. “There is bound to be some degree of resentment. This happens in America, too. Mexicans cross the border, work harder than the white Americans and become successful. Sometimes, they become bosses of white people. They go up the corporate ladder and become senior executives.” 

There are misconceptions of the North-East people. “We have largely adopted Western attire, including our women,” says Lanu. “However, this type of dressing has been adopted by most Indian women, especially the younger ones all across the country. Coupled with an easy friendliness, this leads to a misinterpretation by most men. The North-East people are also docile. This is taken advantage of, by the aggressive North-Indians who belong to a male-dominated chauvinistic society.”

For a long time, the North-East people had thought South India was a haven. But that was shattered recently when a few North-East boys and girls were roughed up by the locals. “It was a setback for us,” says Lanu. “We thought the South was cultured and tolerant.”  

In January, Khuadun Khangham, a 22-year-old from Arunachal Pradesh, who worked as a waiter in a Bangalore pub, ‘Sotally Tober’, was beaten up severely after he left work late at night. Police feel it is a racist attack. Nobody has been arrested so far. 

“Today, in India, there are too many fractures in society,” says Lanu. “To have a better understanding of the North-East people, I would request all to watch the movie called ‘Axone’ which is streaming on Netflix. It is not perfect but nevertheless, it is an eye-opener.”