NELit review

POST script 3
JUNE 03, 2012

SEVEN SISTERS

A dirge from the Northeast

The branded
In the world of the branded The simple folk find it hard to exist. Those who walk prudent in this world Are the so-called branded people Who love and want everything branded. The things which matter in their life are Branded shoes, branded clothes and bags; Everything just branded. The desire for possessing branded things Does not end here. They even want branded relations. A girl wants a branded husband, And a boy wants a branded wife, So they can have a branded life. In the world of the branded No human does exist. Those who live there and rule Are the status-conscious people, Who only think and care about their status. If you are not up to the mark for them, Then you dont belong to their world.

NEW PRINTS
URBAN SHOTS BRIGHT LIGHTS
Paritosh Uttam (ed.) Westland, 2012 `199, 204 pages Paperback/ Fiction

NTHOLOGY of short stories dealing with various aspects of urban life and landscape

PATHABHRASTA HOISE NEKI SANKAR SANGHA

Mayur Bora AANK-BAAK, 2012 `80, 96 pages Hardcover/ Non-fiction

MONALISA P

The atlas Says nothing about our lands and forest rights, The exploitation of the poor by the rich, The loss of our traditions and culture, Disease, hunger and death: A book of wry info graphics, its intricate lines and legends are the warf and woof the spin doctors use to manufacture a new myth every day for us. Our school days pledge reinforcing what the book of maps was trying to teach us and our ilk, all the while: That all Indians are our brothers and sisters. It never tried to tell us that we are the proud children of Abotani. A genus of the endangered Homo sapiens, We took to wearing curious western garbs Convinced that the old feathers were shed so that new and bright ones would grow in their place And happily adopted strange habits and customs that made us ashamed of our self-indulgences, Our appetite for the new wealth, Our newfound lust for life, Adoption of strange lingua franca to communicate with each other, Compulsion to belong and be accepted by the other. The tribes sail under the banner of new gods in search of new beginnings, No one knows why when the vessels were put to the sea the individual selves drifted to different shores far away in different directions. Victims of stochastic events We seek refuge in a delusionary future that seems more comforting than the past we went through, Through the ages, through all our wanderings, through the route taken by our forbearers to reach the present we call our beloved homeland. The trespassers not knowing what to call the place named it, in alien tongue, Arunachal Pradesh, albeit the land of rising sun. Impressive, Nee? Reminds us of a great country in the Far East, In the heart of the Pacific, Well known for its advancement in scientific civilisation. They even renamed our lakes, our rivers, our forests, our institutions, our men, women and children after their own places and faces. That is how the Gekar Sinyi became the Ganga, maybe, to purify the brackish waters saturated with innocent tribal superstitions. That is how we have a surfeit of institutions named after this great Indian leader and that patriotic Indian freedom fighter. That is how my cousin is named after a famous Bollywood star: Yumlam Govinda. Giving names to our land and its people is no longer our prerogative, we do not speak of it as our birthright. This land where we were born and where our ancestors lie buried in its sacred soil Is a no mans land, Which anyone can intrude into and lay claim on the rivers, mountains and trees, By putting a tag on them to mark ownership. Of course, you dont notice it at the first glance People accustomed to seeing the glitz and glamour of city life Will hardly trouble themselves to look at a mere fob located in the backwaters of civilisation. There is nothing to covet here, no wealth, no pomp or personal glory; Only the harsh realitiesof life, the everyday business of living and dying. Who would want such stuff! Who would be interested to know about it, After all it is not a famous place like Bangalore Known for its aeronautical industry Or tinsel town Mumbai, Metro-Kolkata and Madras - oops! Chennai, is it? Or, for instance, Michael Jacksons AmericaWe Indians have a strange habit of talking about Bill Gates Or Madhuri Dixit As if they are next door neighbours Our knowledge of the rich and famous is so minute That we know when one of those celeb couples had a fight Over a piece of toothpick in one of those socialite evenings To the lurid particularities of their undergarments colour And their innumerable fads and fetishes. Yet, you would not know where my home state is Or pretend not to know it just in order to put us to size. You let us know our equations with each other and our place under the sun When you mistake us for a Japanese or a Chinese tourist. You know so little about us. Despite six decades of living together And adopting your freedom fighters as our patriots, Accepting your government, Learning to speak your languages and trying to fit in every possible way. And then you exhort us to join the mainstream Whenever someone amongst us is misguided and goes astray, as you say, In the name of sovereignty, for the right to self-determination Or merely for a square meal a day. I need a clarification here: What is this mainstream that you talk about? Is it a big stream where all the tributaries will lose their identities? Where the smaller fishes will live in perpetual fear of the bigger fishes In a fish eat fish world?

The poet works for The Independent Review, published from Itanagar

A
GLOBAL WARMING, CLIMATE CHANGE AND INDIAN ENVIRONMENTAL JURISPRUDENCE
Anima Hazarika Durlabh Mahanta, 2012 `50, 52 pages Paperback/ Non-fiction

critique of Srimanta Sankardeva Sangha

iNKPOT
POETRY

Untamed heart
Between the clouds, high above the sky I will make my lonely home, I will make my lovely home Between the clouds in the sky. Between the stones, deep down the ocean I will plan my beautiful cottage. I will plan my breathtaking cottage Between the stones in the sea. Every day Every day, from morning till evening Spending the day by my taste, I will, I will too Fly and swim along the spools and herds Of fish and birds From sea to the mountain And from mountain to horizon, My untamed heart will flutter All day. All day my untamed heart will fly To explore the world yet undiscovered, The world of the deep sea and the blue sky. To explore deep sea and blue sky My untamed heart will fly And fly
TAGE DONYI

rofessor Naorem Sanajaoba Memorial Lecture delivered by Justice Anima Hazarika

BOOK ABLE
Announcement: Bali in Global Asia: Between Modernisation and Heritage Formation 2012
Venue: Campus Universitas Udayana, Jalan PB Sudirman, Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia Date: 16-18 July 2012 Contact: M.C.van.den.Haak@iias.nl Website: www.iias.nl

CFP: 7th International & 43rd Annual ELTAI Conference

Organiser: Velammal Engineering College,Chennai & English Language Teachers Association of India (ELTAI) Date: 19-21 July 2012 Theme: The English Classroom Experiments and Experiences What to submit: 150 words abstract Deadlines: For abstract, registration form and DD: 20 June 2012 For full papers: 30 June 2012 Contact: +91 9840205496 Email: gr_varshini@yahoo.co.in

The poet has compiled Untamed Heart (1990). The poem has been taken from this poetry collection

ipen
INDRAJIT CHATTOPADHYAY

Queen of Kalahari princess of Amazonia

From the cloud-capped misty mountains Leaving the moss-covered Kapok trees Bidding adieu to people who worshipped her every drop She came to her lords dwelling, to become Queen of Kalahari princess of Amazonia She tied her silken strands in a bun Held her infant in her loving embrace Knotted her flowing skirt tight Busy decorating her kings dwelling Tireless to enliven the rain-parched Kalahari Queen of Kalahari princess of Amazonia Years of journey drifting into habit Yet she pauses in hear cycle of duties Tilted head glancing skywards at the clouds Life seeming a bout of ayahuasca The angled smile lost in thirst of Kalahari Queen of Kalahari princess of Amazonia The flight of albatross beckoning The dreams of rainforest alluring She knows the nest where she blooms She yearns for the worshippers of rain Yet her love for Kalahari is Kilimanjaro diamond Queen of Kalahari princess of Amazonia A gust of wind Musky lost in thought Pushed at the heavy wooden door Creaking the door open It entered salty smoky room Raising her soul and filling his heart Queen of Kalahari princess of Amazonia

Northeast

NUGGETS

Lets hope, anyway

Some day You will come back to me As does the Bos frontalis* Piebald, white-stocked, whitehorned and white-faced Returns to its salt licks Tucked away in the core of cool earth and green copses. Maybe I will lead you Salt-licking To my house And it will be your second coming. *The Bos frontalis (mithun) is a semi-domesticated animal of the Nyishi tribe. Its habitat is a salt lick around which it is allowed to roam freely in the forest and it can be drawn homewards by a handful of salt.

uWhat is the autonym of the tribe which was called Abor (unruly or those who cannot be controlled) by the Assamese? t The Adis. The Adis have fifteen subgroups, including the Gallong, the Pailibo and the Padam, who live in East and West Siang districts of Arunachal Pradesh.

uWho are the Monpa communities of Arunachal Pradesh?

t Monpa is a generic term used by the Tibetans for people living in the lowlands. In India the Monpas are a group of tribes and sub-tribes living in West Kameng and Tawang districts of Arunachal Pradesh. Source: Haksar, Nandita (ed.). 2011. Glimpses of North East India. Chicken Neck: New Delhi

YUMLAM TANA

The poet has authored The Man and the Tiger (1999)