CONTD: THE DREAM SNATCHERS

Lost (12)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Who have you been talking to Deep? how far have you taken your paranoid concern for me this time? Ko akau!

Not your old friends in the army I hope? Covert warfare, psyops? My god! You really have picked up quite a vocabulary dei! What did Colonel Singh tell you? Did he own up that he is also involved in all these psyops (or whatever else they call it) that he told you about? But of course he must have – he would also have justified it saying it’s his job, nohoine. I am not a complete idiot Deep, I know how things are. Bissax kar ba nakar. And I promise you I will be careful and will not get into open confrontation with anybody. After all I am not doing anything to harm either the state or the anti-state parties involved – neither are my friends for that matter. Our job is to clear up the mess they have created – all the human debris they have left behind. If working for your own people is wrong, then tell them to go screw themselves, buiso?

And you can also tell your Colonel Singh they can stop tapping my phone. I have learnt a lot of things in the last few days, Deep, and one of those things is that anybody who is working in the Northeast in any research organization or NGO, however harmless or indeed beneficial their work might be, has a file in their name at the intelligence office and their phone conversations are always tapped. Gom pali? At first we did not believe Imu when he told us this just before coming to Haflong – but when we thought about all those cross connections and statics on our phone lines, the delays between when the dial tone ends and the conversation begins, we were forced to at least partially believe him aru. I didn’t want to tell you any of this because I didn’t want you getting worried – but Colonel Singh has gone and done it! Barhiya!

But don’t worry about it Deep, after all, what will they overhear when they listen in on our conversations ko? In fact, you know what we did the other day? We were calling Arpita and Jit to try and entice them to drive up to Haflong so we could all have the pork Prasen da had cooked at ada Kemprai’s house – Karbi style with til in it. And before ending the conversation, we directly spoke to whoever might have been listening – ‘O saar’, Imu said, ‘whoever you are – we are having some very tasty pork today. So sad you cannot join us’ – and we all burst out laughing. See, this is the way to handle these realities that you are so worried about – take it in your stride. Have a good laugh, bappeke!

About your goddess, are you having doubts about her now, ha? You are damn right I will want to talk you out of it. But how can you have doubts Deep, when she is your life’s work? Keneke parili? Doubting her would mean doubting yourself, your work, everything… even me. And this at a time when I have begun to feel like you have weaned me over to your views on her – jano Deep, I can feel her presence everywhere here – I see her reflected in the stones of these ancient hills and remember she had begun her career in our land as nothing but a yoni-shaped stone that was always kept moist by hill spring that oozed out of her inner core. Her secret, the mystery of the dread goddess, has been shrouded in cement and concrete, by the huge edifice that is the Kamakhya temple today, and clouded by the chantings of numerous priests and devotees alike who presume to understand her. But the truth is, she is hidden in the hills and the forests, her core is as yet untouched by the religion of the ostentatious,  she is as yet the primitive goddess whom one can discover in these stones if one believes in her might. Xasai, Deep, I think I have understood now who your goddess is, and why it is so important to unveil your true understanding of her. You should not start thinking otherwise. Koi dusou hole!

There is another presence that I have been feeling in these hills jano – you know how they say there must have been scarcely any place, any hill, any village in Assam that Bishnu Rabha must not have visited during his years underground after the RCPI was banned by the Indian government? To think of travelling in those same places where he might have once come as a fugitive really gives me the goosebumps. Gar noum xiyari jai be... It’s almost like I might literally be following in his footsteps – although I know I cannot be one hundreth of what he was. Nobody can, nohoine?

And you are right, don’t come down now – finish the book and come back for good. I also do not think I can let you go back this time – it’s awful being so alone all the time, jano...

With love

Debi

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Chat with Smitali. Sarma (1)

Deep: Debi are you there?

Deep: Debi? Please talk to me if you are there.

Smita: Hi Deep! I am. What are you doing up at this ungodly hour? It must be an ungodly hour there, nohoine?

Deep: O, toi aso. I thought maybe you weren’t there. Why are you tying so slow today?

Deep: I could not sleep, and was just sitting in front of my laptop when I saw you were online.

Smita: I am not typing slow – my connection here is very slow. This is Haflong, Deep. Half the time there isn’t any connectivity here. Whatever bandwidth we get here, we have to be happy with it. Nai mama, kona mama...

Smita: Did you read my mail?

Deep: Ok. Bujisou. Aw, I have read your mail. How did you know I had spoken to Singh?

Smita: Who else do you know in the Indian army, Deep? Don’t be daft. And don’t think I am daft.

Smita: Aru I am very pissed off that you spoke to Colonel Singh behind my back. What do you think you were trying to do, ha? Trying to keep me safe with his help when for all you know his force might be involved in all these violent incidents you read about everyday?

Deep: Debi, I have never thought you are daft J

Deep: All men in uniform are not the enemies of our people, Debi, and you know that very well. Colonel Singh is a nice man – and a very fair officer, moi janou. I have known him since we were classmates in the Army Public School.

Smita: You were classmates for only two years, and I don’t know why you kept in touch with him all these years. And why did your parents send you to the Army Public School, I will never understand. Ketiyau buji napam!

Deep: Two years and then I changed school, hoi baru. But Debi, my parents belonged to the generation that knitted sweaters for the Indian army hoping they will protect us from Chinese aggression. My mother donated her gold ornaments to the army, jano ne, like so many other Assamese women at the time. They thought the Army School would instil discipline in me budhoi. And love for the country, love for India. It was only when the same armed forces turned on our boys that they lost their faith.

Deep: But Moina, you have to admit that without the armed forces, we would have been run over by our neighbouring countries. We have to be clear on that – even though at the same time we cannot condone the atrocities they have committed on our people. But this is a separate issue of internal security, najano ne?

Smita: So in the interest of ‘internal security’ you may treat the people of your own country the way you treat your enemies? You can bomb civilian populations, regroup villages, burn crops, rape women, everything? Sab sale?

Deep: I am not saying that! Kaisou janou? Anybody who has seen how the armed forces operate in our region demands that the Armed Forces Special Powers Act should be repealed.

Deep: Aru it is of course true that the Indian state has put us virtually under military rule with the imposition of this act – the armed forces can get away with anything, any atrocity, any crime. But this is a problem with the system, Majoni. Why should we not appreciate individual officers or armed forces personnel who are exceptions to the rule ko?

Smita: Hoi sage. Maybe you are right, but still, we have been brought up in such mortal fear of the armed forces, especially my generation mane - born just before or after the Assam Movement. We were little kids when the ULFA insurgency peaked-tou, and we saw nothing but uniformed personnel every few feet on the road, even on our way to school. We would be advised not to look into their eyes, or they might either shoot us, which would be a mercy, or rape us, which was worse.

Smita: And this was in Guwahati, the main city. You must have seen worse in your town – the rural and semi-urban places were the worst affected, nohoi janou?

Deep: Hoi hoi, we did, although being in the Army Public School and living in government quarters provided me shelter from most of the news about what was happening outside our school or housing complex. We lived in a bubble, Debi, people like you and me – we did not experience one hundredth of the terror that was unleashed on our people at the time janone.

Smita: Hmmm... And now, we have started unleashing terror on one another, ha?

Smita: But what you say about the system using the armed forces as instruments of terror and the possibility of some individuals in the forces being different from the others, may have some merit. Moi buji pau.

Deep: Aha! A concession from you, Abhimani! That makes my day, really.

Smita: You don’t have to gloat – it’s just that I remembered Bogi baideu, from my father’s village, and how she married a soldier in the Indian army. Did I tell you the story before? Bogi baideu’s niece was raped by a group of soldiers during a counter-insurgency operation. They would also buy girls from their village for petty sums. But just a couple of years later, she shocked everybody by announcing she was getting married to a soldier from Punjab.

Deep: Yes, you told me this before. Monot ase.

Smita: Now, years later, Bogi baideu is still happily married. She has also been accepted back in the family and often visits them – in fact she is now almost a mini-celebrity as she can speak Hindi and does not wear mekhala-sador any more J

Deep: Exactly, Moina. Her husband must not have been like his colleagues.

Smita: But the fact still remains that we will always look at the armed forces differently from how they are looked at by people in the mainland, nohoine? When I was in Delhi, my friends would be very respectful to people in the uniform – I could only feel fear and loathing.

Deep: Our collective experience has led to this, but we must still have an open mind, nohoine?

Smita: Thik ase, manisu baru. You may be right.

Deep: So you are not angry with me anymore about speaking to Singh?

Smita: No. But that doesn’t mean you can expect me to like him or anything. As far as I am concerned, he is still the enemy of my people buiso!

Deep: You are entitled to you views, Debi, just as I have the right to choose my friends. Nohoine?

Smita: Hobo hobo! Don’t lecture me now. I have to go. I can’t believe we could chat for so long already. It’s a wonder, xasai, that the power has not been interrupted for so long, or the internet connection. It really must be your lucky day ;-)

Deep: Baru, don’t be cheeky now. Go if you must. Ja. I’ll try to catch some sleep. Where all will you be travelling? You did not say anything about that in your last mail. Avoid volatile areas. Be safe.

Deep: Debi? You’ve left. Ufff, Bordoisila! Even the spring storm is not as impetuous as you are I think! Call me or write from wherever you can, as soon as you can. Thik ase?

Lost (13)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Deep,

Aiow dehi! The amount we have been travelling-o! My back hurts and my bums are numb from driving over those wretched roads, which are actually no roads at all uff. Thank god we took Imu’s SUV – the bumps do not feel so bumpy in a big car – but even so, it has been a rough journey. Imu stayed back with his friend – whom by the way we met finally, and who is not at all a secret girlfriend but an old schoolmate and he was only teasing us by not telling us who he was – bodmastou – but lent us his car, god bless him!

We are getting back to Haflong tomorrow – there was no time during the last few days to even sit and write a few lines to you. Xasai koisou! We had first gone to the militant camps in the neighbouring district – Prasen da’s influence had got us an invitation – and stayed there for a few days – it is one of the camps designated by the government for the insurgent group after the ceasefire. Seems there have been some controversies regarding its location in an area predominantly inhabited by non-Dimasa communities, and a lot of bad blood has been exchanged because of that bule. But when we were there, our hosts – the insurgent group under ceasefire – did not betray any feeling of strain or tension. They were most gracious and I guess it is part of our tribal cultures to be so hospitable. Despite all the efforts made at corrupting our people through money power and brute force, I hope they will always have their innate goodness and simplicity of heart intact. Axa korat apatti ki?

At the camp, we were made to feel as though we were not visiting a heavily guarded militant inhabited area with the threat of violence ever present, but a regular household where the group chairman was the head of the family who welcomed us solemnly and offered us the customary Dimasa gamosa and warmly bade us feel at home. The militants were all armed, and they have their regular drills, but there was a relaxed atmosphere in the camp. I guess it is part of the government strategy to put them in such designated camps, give them a taste of the easy life, and make them soft and unwilling to return to the harsh underground life of their jungle camps boudhoi. Look what they have done to the once-dreaded and fierce Naga insurgents who have led one of the world’s longest running insurgent movements in our region! Dekha nai ne?

Xasai, if it was not for the guns slung over their backs, you could mistake the groups of young men – many of them very young boys – playing carom under a tree or just hanging around, or performing their daily chores so cheerfully, to be your average school or college going kid enjoying life without any worries, as in the good old days before the spectre of militancy came to haunt every nook and corner of our land.

It was such a learning experience, jano Deep, and I am so thankful to Prasen da for taking us there. I am quite sure that we were only allowed to see a particular facet of their lives in the designated camps, and that quite a lot of what we saw or were told may not have been true, or real or routine. In any case, we had no intention of prying into what was not for us to see kintu.

But I talked to them. Deep. Oh how I talked to them! Pek pek pek pek... They frowned upon us talking to the junior level cadres, but the officers were more willing to speak. And the sense I got from all these conversations was that they did a lot of things without knowing why they were doing it. They all believed – without exception – that they needed a separate state called Dimaraji for their people because they were entitled to self rule and a better life, but they were unwilling to speak about what specifically needs to be done to achieve a better life – the high command has to take these decisions. And I doubt if the high command also realises how it is being manipulated and arm twisted – gomei puwa nai sage. And if it does realise this and is anyway allowing itself to become instruments in the hands of the very state it has been fighting against, I will think so much the less of them.

Pise, we were suddenly shunted out of the camp on the third day very early in the morning. They told us that they had some information of impending danger and it was their priority to get us out of harm’s way. We presumed they feared an attack by the other faction or some other insurgent group and left. Aiow, the adrenaline that flows when you are in such a situation, Deep. Keneke bujam touk? I have never felt such excitement before! I only kept wishing the firing had started while we were still there! What a thing it would be write you about, nohoi! And you would be again so scared for me – why are you so over protective, Deep?

Nilima was very scared though and she just held on to Prasen da all the way down to the valley. There we went to one of Prasen da’s relatives’ place. This whole area belongs to Prasen da and his relatives it looks like – and it’s not always clear what kind of relation they share – so and so is married to such and such a person who is maybe the sister of the father in law of somebody who is perhaps Prasen da’s mother’s second cousin, and we were now at their place being ushered in like their long lost kin. Asarit! At first they did not offer us any jou dima or pork and I had to go up to aunty – the lady of the house who by the way, has decided I am the daughter she never had – and whisper in her ears that we do all drink jou dima and eat pork. ‘Oi, toi bamun nohoi?’ you should have seen the look on her face when she realised that I being born to a Brahmin family eat pork and drink jou. Nilima being half Bodo nobody questions her, and Gomati being Koch, still has a ‘tribal’ look with her Mongoloid features, so she is also taken for granted, but when it comes to me, they feel somewhat strained offering me their food.

What a shame! Seh! How deprived I am of that feeling of belonging together that comes from an unquestioning acceptance of each other’s food and other cultural habits! But, Deep, o Deep, the happiness it gives me to see the smiles on their faces when they realise I do not treat their food as if it was something unclean, jano ne! And to think even before they knew I did not have any Brahminical hang ups, aunty practically adopted me as her daughter. Kiman antarikata! So much warmth! Somewhere along the way we have lost this warmth between us, maybe because of rapid urbanization, maybe because of the volatile political situation, maybe because of all these and some other factors I cannot comprehend, but if we can revive that warmth, the kinship, I think we will be ok, we can be together and do ok for ourselves. Toi ki kawo? Do you think it’s possible? Do you think, we could still be what Bishnu Rabha said we all were: hiyar amathu, kolijar ephal to each other? The heart’s kin – it feels like a forgotten dream now sometimes…

When we were leaving after a few days – during which time we visited countless other relatives in the area – they said we should stop over at their elder son’s house in Lower Haflong and which would be on our way back to Haflong town anyway. Rasta eketai. When I asked what he does, they could not tell me clearly, but it transpired they figured he was some kind of a government contractor. All that mattered to them was that he had a good income and could afford to send home some money occasionally. Bas! We asked them for general directions – they had never seen his place, no one in their family had travelled any further than Hojai in nearby Nagaon district which was the nearest town 35 kilometres away, and then we were on our way.

Jano Deep, it is very easy to ask for directions when you are travelling anywhere in rural Assam – all you have to do is give a general idea of where you want to go and answer a few questions every time you stop someone – like where have you come from, where will you be going and why, how long do you intend to stay, where will you be going from there – and you are on your way :-) Ekebare uju. We found the son’s house finally, and it turned out to be a newly constructed wooden two storey bungalow on the face of the hill, built evidently at a great cost with expensive furniture and fittings, some of them obviously foreign made, and when we compared it to his parent’s humble house, it almost made our eyes roll out bappeke. Prasen da was instantly uncomfortable, and we could sense he wanted to leave immediately as we entered the house. But his cousin – or whatever he would be by relation – was very keen we stay for lunch, and anyway, it wasn’t much further up to Haflong, so we could afford to stay awhile. It would have been rude not to accept such a warm invitation, so we girls persuaded Prasen da to stay.

The cousin was the epitome of hospitality, just like his parents and if this hospitality was not tainted with some obvious effort to show off his acquisitions, we would have felt quite at home. Xasakoye it was a lovely house and the smell of freshly sawn wood is always heady. Gomati of course had to spoil it and wonder out loud – of course when the cousin was in the kitchen cooking our lunch – how many trees must have been felled to build that house, and whether it was done legally because nothing ever seems to be done legally out here, not that there were any laws that could survive out here and so on and so forth. Uff! Pagoli joni! She doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut sometimes!

Aru every now and then, Gulu – that’s what Prasen da called him – would come out of the kitchen and offer to replenish our glasses with more rum or hand us some photo albums of various outings in scenic locations with an assortment of female companions. Once or twice he called Prasen da inside the house and each time he came back, his face would show more and more suppressed anger, and he would talk less and less. Ami bhabilou ki nou hol? We realised of course, that he was trying not to blow his top for some reason and as soon as we were out, he would tell us anyway.

The final straw was when Gulu came out with what looked like a passport in his hands – and indeed, it did turn out to be a passport – and placed it in Nilima’s hands as if it was a very fragile thing. I could make out how important it must be for him just by the way he was handling it mane. Nilima looked at him and said, perhaps a little more sternly than she had intended to, ‘What do I do with this?’ Pise xi manei nidile. Unmindful, Gulu then started telling us about his plans of going to Thailand soon. Some ‘friends’ were going to sponsor his trip and they had also procured this passport for him. The poor fool went on and on about how important he was for his friends and how much indebted they are to him that they were taking him abroad; nobody in his family had ever even gone to Guwahati and here he was going to Thailand. I could understand the pride he must have felt in having a passport and travelling so far, but when I thought of what he must have done or intended to do or what his handlers – whoever they were – intended to make him do, I felt really scared – so scared I didn’t ask hin any questions thereafter. The others also seemed to have decided to do the same, and we had our lunch in relative silence with Gulu doing all the talking and made our getaway as soon as possible. Polai patrang dilou bappeke!

It was only when we were in the car and had travelled some distance that we started talking again. And though Prasen da would not tell us then what was it that had bothered him so much, he later told Nilima and Nilima told us that at first he had been called aside by Gulu to be shown his new passport, and another time, a gleaming new camcorder with which he had taken pictures of naked girls prancing around him bule. Apparently when he asked Gulu where those pictures were taken he said it was right there in Haflong where there are girls – college or school going even – who would do anything for a quick buck. Prasen da was in a state of shock and so were we when we heard this. What has our society, with its healthy understanding of man-woman relationship and respect for women, come to? Eibur ki hoise? I mean we have seen women in the relief camps of lower Assam turn to prostitution because otherwise they would starve to death. You know there was this Muslim displaced woman in Bongaigaon who would tell us proudly that she did not beg or starve like many of her friends and relatives – she sold what she could and lived a life of dignity. And I was myself so proud of her. But these women here seemed to be doing this just so they could make some easy money and have ‘fun’ whatever the definition of fun may be. And the attitude of men like Gulu? Si si!

You know when I was studying in Delhi, all us students from the Northeast used to be proud of the fact that we had a much better deal than women in North India, especially in tribal societies. But what is all this? Ki eibur? This is the kind of corruption of values that seems so irreversibly attached to an exposure to the outside world of glitz and glamour. Will we ever get out of it Deep? What if we only take the worst from globalization, and from integration with mainland India, and lose ourselves forever?

In Gulu’s washroom, bapre bap, I saw the kind of toiletries that you do not even find in Guwahati, despite the break neck speed with which the city is getting engulfed in the vortex of globalization. They must have been brought from somewhere in Southeast Asia via the smuggled foreign goods market in Manipur or Nagaland. I am not saying that Gulu should not have good things, or enjoy the luxuries of life, but I am only wondering what must be going through the mind of a boy from such an interior village who had not even seen the main city in his state to possess all these commodities which even people in that city do not possess. What level of dislocation of values and traditional worldview must have taken place given this sudden exposure! And then there are so many Gulus around today! He prabhu!

Deep, what happened to us, oi? We had people in Assam who were never frogs in the well – they were progressive outward looking people who travelled the world with pride, who came back with great knowledge and know how and implement the same for the benefit of the other people in our land. Take Jyotiprasad for instance – he travelled everywhere and learnt all about filmmaking and came back and made the second – or was it the first? – indigenous talkie in India. And this was in the early 20^th century! Of course, it is a different matter that because he did this in Assam, he never got the kind of recognition he should have.

Or take Lakhminath Bezbaruah – without whom we would not have Axamiya literature as we know it today – who married into the famous Tagore family of Bengal but defended the Axamiyā language with pride against Rabindranath Tagore himself. Or Bishnu Rabha – who charmed maestros like Anna Pavlova and Uday Shankar with his dance. Everywhere he went, be it Calcutta or Benares, he had a following; his multiple talents got him so many admirers – they all called him Gurudev. We had people who could command such respect, achieve such milestones while being so rooted in their language and culture of origin nohoine? Kot herai gol? Where have we lost that confidence, that rootedness, Deep?

Or is it just that I am not looking at the whole picture – that these were extraordinary men, and significantly from an elitist background, and there were so many others who never got to see beyond their own villages, or even go to school, see a doctor, earn a decent living? I don’t know, buji napau…

I wonder sometimes if it wasn’t the Assam movement that brought us to this brink. Mane, nearly six years of a mass civil disobedience movement that sought to establish the Axamiya pride and get the sons of the soil their due, and what did it achieve? Nothing positive that lasted too long – certainly not national pride. And how could it, ko? In the mad rush for the spoils that came with the resolution to the conflict, we even forgot what made us one nation. We began to cut off our limbs one by one – the Bodo people, the Dimasas, the Karbis, the Rabhas and Misings, Tiwas, everybody. One dominant section of the people began telling everybody else that they are not us, whereas in reality, we were nothing without them. Abasye, in the same way, they are nothing without us, or without each other – we are because we are all together, nohoine?

I don’t want us to lose our values Deep, I want us to retain what essentially always made us one nation, one people. I want Bishnu Rabha’s ideals to come to life again – I want people to remember him as the person who talked politics and lived his politics too, not just as the Kalaguru – he was not just about his arts de, ever!

I want to talk to more people Deep, I want more people to talk to me, to each other, to rediscover our ties, to relive our age old bonds. How will I do it Deep? Ko na, please! Ask you goddess to help me, Deep!

Smita

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Lost (14)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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Debi, Moina, Aijoni,

The goddess will surely help you, and you don’t need me to act as your go between. When she is kind and benevolent, she listens to all who speak to her with true hearts and your heart is nothing if not true, mour kolija!

She has certainly been kind to me in the last few days and inspired me to write – I have been making decent progress while you have been out there risking your life. I have completed another chapter although I do feel I could have been more convincing in my argument… Budhoi, I have lost some of the initial inspiration. I am not doubting my goddess anymore – it will please you to know – but I have been having these visions of a not-so-kind goddess every now and then,  unashamedly dancing over so many bloodied corpses lying on the highway, and laughing (at me?)… Immediately as I do, however, I feel ashamed of myself, mour laj lagi jai.

I think the violent images on every news site from Assam have got to me. And sporadic incidents of violence have been on the rise in Karbi Anglong and NC Hills according to these reports. A bomb blast at Diphu station on Tuesday, explosives found at the Agricultural Department office on Friday. On Thursday, the district magistrate of Karbi Anglong was wounded in firing by ‘unidentified miscreants’. So gory, so gory! But I have to fight these visions, and I will, though what I cannot fight, Moina, is my fear for you. Don’t do this to me, Ai! I don’t care if I sound over protective but I do not want to lose you. And I do not want you getting caught in a crossfire. And if there has been firing between rival insurgent groups – like you people seem to believe – and if they belong to different ethnic groups, past experience shows that ethnic riots may soon follow. You should have left that place as soon as your seminar was over.

Aru regarding the adrenaline you talk about - this is a dangerous kind of excitement and it can easily addle your brains and make you do things you would not otherwise do in a calmer state of mind. Xabadhan Debi. Don’t let the adrenaline rule your senses. The fact that Prasen and the lot are with you is the only consolation. Antatta I can be sure that Prasen will keep a level head.

Write back soon, Majoni. And write to tell me you are leaving from there…

Deep.

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The Horror, the Horror!

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Deep, all hell has broken lose. Hai hai! Riots have broken out in Karbi Anglong near where Prasen da’s house is. You must really be prophetic dei. It was just as you said – the attacks that took place after we left the designated camp was made by a Karbi group. Langthasa told Prasen da it seems, that a government source had warned him when he decided to shunt us out of his camp. His ‘source’ knew what was in the offing but the government did nothing to stop the attacks or control the aftermath of the attacks. They just sat back and watched our people kill each other! Si kota!

We just got back to Haflong and found that Imu had come back from halfway there. He heard about the massacre in the bus; you know 20 people, men, women, and children, were pulled out of a public transport bus and burnt alive on the National Highway in Karbi Anglong. Who knows by whom? Insurgents, civilians, the army? Koune jane? He did not wait a second – he knew riots would start given the already volatile situation and he came back to warn us, besera-tou.

Prasen da is so upset, jano. There has been no news of his family. His father is old and cannot run. Our only hope is that they could make it through the jungle path down to the valley in Nagaon district – but there are wild elephants on that path. And all other kinds of animals – it’s a reserved forest. O Deep, what are we going to do? Prasen da is so so so upset, it kills me to see him this way. Xajya nahai! Even Nilima cannot calm him down. He bhogoban!

Smita

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The Horror, the Horror! (2)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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Debi,

Get out of there, quick. It might spread to NC Hills. I have been reading the reports, they are bloody. At least it is a mercy you did not witness the bus massacre. They should have some laws against newspapers and sites carrying such inhuman pictures! They are pornographic!

I would have risked your anger and asked Colonel Singh to help you and your friends to the other side, at least up to Nagoan district, but I read how an army truck was arsoned yesterday and I don’t think that’s a very good idea now.

He prabhu! I knew my dreadful visions of the wrathful goddess were not for nothing!

Reply soon, Debi. Tell me you are safe.

Deep

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The Horror, the Horror! (3)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Deep,

We cannot leave if we wanted to – we are stranded. Every day we hear of fresh villages being burnt down, fields and fields of crops being destroyed,  and people being killed. How long will this last? Kobo nuaru.

We finally tracked down Prasen da’s family to Hojai – they are safe, thank god! They are living with aunty’s sister who has a house in Hojai. His other relatives are in a temporary relief camp set up in the primary school near aunty’s sister’s house. Rakhya!

The Dimasa civil society organizations have been busy holding meetings with Karbi representatives, but there hasn’t been much headway. Initially, the Karbis kept refusing to come to Haflong or anywhere else in NC Hills fearing a backlash by the Dimasas, and the Dimasas said it was not safe for them to go to Karbi Anglong. Sa soun baru! But finally, the Dimasa groups had to give in since their people were getting the most affected. Of course, we know about this because we have inside information – on the face of it, organizations of both communities have been models of commitment to the public cause and jumped on their jeeps and gone to rescue the public at the first news of trouble.

We are getting first hand updates from ada Kemprai who said representatives of both communities visited the affected areas, met the displaced people and prepared reports which were then submitted to the state government. Abasye, I wonder how preparing reports will solve anything, especially since any representative of the state government is yet to visit the affected areas. This is not election time, najano? But yes, early next year are the autonomous council elections in Karbi Anglong. So a few executive council members went on vote garnering sprees throughout the district. How despicable! Eibur manuh ne? How can they claim to be human?

But xouna mote, the one person who has brought about one happy event in this entire episode of violence has been the deputy commissioner of Karbi Anglong district. You know how we always say these civil servants are no good – well, this guy has turned out to be different. The moment he heard of the outbreak, he reached a particularly troubled spot and organized peace meetings and formed a peace committee with representatives of the two communities, entrusting them with the responsibility of making sure that no more violence breaks out in their area. And you know what? It hasn’t! After the first incidents of violence, that area is now an island of peace – even though underlying tensions still remain. Wherever the DC has gone and organized these peace committees, there have been lesser or no more reports of violence, jano ne? See, this is the power of the people – and the power and responsibility of the system, the administration. However, very rarely do you see either party exercising it. Koune patta diye?

The common people – who would perhaps be pleasant hard working people like Prasen da’s father, or brother, or sister, or mother – do not want to be killed-o, Deep. And they do not kill until provoked. They only kill to preserve what is theirs and what has been threatened. But who provokes them ko? Who threatens them? Who instigates them to turn against their neighbour? If only we had definitive answers to all of this!

Aru kounoubai kole je as soon as news of trouble broke out, truckloads of army vehicles were parked along all the access roads to the interior villages it seems. So there was no way hordes of people bearing instruments for killing and pillaging those villages could have passed unnoticed, or uninhibited. Tathapiu, arsons and loot continued and hundreds of people were killed anyway. According to ada Kemprai, one of his relatives who also had her house burned down and her paddy fields destroyed, said she distinctly heard some of the arsonists speak in Hindi, and not the kind of broken Hindi we speak in the Northeast too. So you tell me what this is all about! What a mess, what an unholy mess! Seh!

And nobody seems to be worried about what the people who have been moved to the relief camps will eat, what they will wear, or where will they sleep. Prasen da’s father says hundreds of people have been forced into a tiny school building, with pregnant women and sick old people and little children forced to share one small schoolroom – which has no windows, just huge gaps in the wall – with fifty other people. The local people have been collecting food materials and cooking for them, because the government rations are not enough, and often not edible. But this is nothing new, janaitou. This is a story I have heard earlier, from the displaced people in Bongaigaon. The apathy of the government, the ad hoc arrangements that become permanent, with no really permanent solution in sight... It’s unreal, abastab!

O Deep, I hurt for these people so badly – I wish I could do something for them, but I am getting more and more bogged down by depression as I hear all these stories. Aiow! Deep, Deep, Deep, what do I do? Show me the way, please...

Debi

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The Horror, the Horror! (4)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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Debi

Please do not get so depressed that you will lose the capacity to work. Mour katha xoun! What these people need right now is for people like you and your friends to work for them, to help them in whatever little way possible. Hoine?I can totally understand the ignominy of having to live under such conditions – the ignominy that these people must be facing day in and day out. But tell Prasen I am glad his folks are fine. They were lucky to have relatives outside the district, others must not have been as lucky. But right now I guess what we need to do is give thanks for small mercies.

How long does it look like it will last?? Kiba gom paiso? From the media reports, it seems like there’s fresh violence every day. But since you are there not far from the action, you must be having a better idea. Colonel Singh is too busy, but the background information he gave me when I got through to him finally yesterday is terrifying. ‘Third party involvement’ – what is this ‘third party involvement’? Ko sun. You always hear this whenever there are such riots.

By the way, Jen dug me up yesterday dei – I have been stuck to the computer reading fresh updates every hour and worrying myself sick about you, mapping every place where violence has occurred to see how near or far it is from Haflong. And she literally dragged me out for a drink. Upai napai golu aru... She says to tell you how proud she is of you and your friends for doing such good work for your people. She wants to come to Assam one day and see for herself how such a beautiful place has been mutilated by ugly incidences of violence like this one.

Debi, what would the goddess say now if she saw all this bloodshed? You know the concept of sacrifice has been there in every religion, and yes, it is gory and certainly not acceptable to us now in the modern world, but it has – had – a deeper significance of giving up something dear to oneself, something precious in order to prove one’s dedication, commitment and devotion. Bixarjan diya... Let’s say it was one way of learning to detach oneself from one’s earthly possessions or affections and propitiating or getting in touch with one’s spiritual side. Ask the Karbis why they sacrifice animals during their Rongker festival? Is it just blood lust then? It never is, nohoine? However, what we are seeing now is senseless killings, sheer lust of blood – and for what? A piece of the political pie? Ah Debi, what have the people of the goddess come down to? And why is the goddess condoning it all if they are her people? I have begun to wonder… Xandeh hoi maje maje...

And yet, you are right in saying that they themselves have the power to stop this carnage. They can stop themselves from being manipulated by whatever first, second or third party might be involved in all this. Xasa katha. All they need is someone to tell them they can. And you should spread the message, Moina. You wanted to talk to your people and get them to talk to each other – start it now, in a small way. I know you all will go there once the violence has abated – god alone knows when that will be – so start from there, buiso. I know of course, that you would do it anyway, that you have been doing it anyway – even in Bongaigaon – but be a little more aggressive in your efforts to make them understand. Aru alao xahaxere aguai ja. You have to be a leader if you want to show them the way – you have to make them understand with authority. I know you will ask why it should be so, but it is true that people do need a leader. They need someone to organize them and nudge them in the right direction – like that Deputy Commissioner of yours who did just that. You keep saying you want to talk to the people and bring them together, so go do it – don’t let it remain an indefinite promise. There is nothing worse than a promise unfulfilled, janoisoun.

But Debi, do it carefully. You have been learning a lot from your recent experiences, I can see that, but you are still very politically naive in many ways. Mani lo. Take the help of your friends like you always have– Prasen is a very well balanced individual and Jit is smart and caring – which is a good combination. Then there are Gomati and Nilima who undoubtedly care for you. Keep them close, let them help you, and you could start your good work soon, sinta nai.

Don’t rush into it however, and take one day at a time. Use your field visits more fruitfully so that you can be doing your job and pursuing your passion simultaneously, bujiso tou?

I can understand the hurt you feel being so close by – I feel very disturbed myself and I am thousands and thousands of miles away. All I can do is pray and that is what I shall do aru – pray to the goddess to stop watching and save her land from being drowned in a river of blood.

Your Deep.

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The Horror, the Horror! (5)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Deep,

We are off to Guwahati in the next couple of hours dei. Thought I should let you know and make sure you are not worrying yourself to death. Jen did the right thing and say thanks to her from me. Bor bhal tai. I like her a lot. You naturally cannot do anything sitting so far away, so stop worrying. And yes, pray – pray to the goddess that her people do not sacrifice their humanity at the altar of political power mongering. And if you really want to do something, finish your book fast and come down and help me put these people out of misery. Join me, guide me, while I organise our ‘mel’s.

You are right abasye, I must do it now, or never. I can’t keep telling myself I will talk to them someday, I will bring them to dialogue someday. I have to do it now and when we come back from Guwahati – did I tell you we are going to Guwahati today? aw yes, I did – I will start. Loge loge. Thanks for being my inspiration, Deep, and always pointing me in the right direction. What would I do without you?

Things have calmed down a bit, though they may flare up at any moment. We have to take advantage of this calm and cross over to Nagaon district where the violence ends. Imu understandably did not want to risk driving his car through Karbi Anglong de sun aru, so we have persuaded one of the local drivers to take us in his car. Imu is staying back in Haflong and will join us at Hojai when we come back with the clothes and medicines Jit and Arpita are collecting under our NGO banner to distribute among the displaced people.

There are always claims of a ‘third party’ involvement whenever such riots break out – even in Bongaigaon, they kept saying the same thing when I asked them who they thought had caused the outbreak of violence. It is such a convenient concept isn’t it? Xakaloure babe. For the perpetrators, it is a tool to deflect the blame; and for the government, it means they can institute enquiry committee after enquiry committee and try and divulge the identity of the ‘third party’ – more money is sanctioned, more pockets get lined. On the positive side, for the peacemakers and civil society organizations, it is a tool to try and maintain peace among communities – ‘not-either-of-you-but-them’ kind of a thing – but I doubt how aggressively this tool has ever been used for this purpose... Maybe I should exploit it, moure kamaat ahibo...

Deep, my clothes have started stinking jano – I have been wearing the same two pairs of jeans for the past so many days. I am glad we are going back today, I was getting tired of living in these same clothes for so long. Of course, those people who were displaced in the riots do not even have the hope of recovering their clothes from their burnt houses, and they will have to wear other people’s discarded clothes, and here I am complaining about my clothes... Si kota!

Ah Deep, moi ki koro? What do I do, tell me, what can I do? I had best stop writing now and go back to the circuit house to collect my stuff...

Bye

Debi

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The Horror, the Horror! (6)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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I do not think, Debi, that if I have to sit here worrying about you all the time, I could finish my book at all. Xambhabei nahai. As it stands, I have lost much of my inspiration to work lately. Let me speak to a few people and see if I can manage a sabbatical soon ro. At least if I am in Guwahati, even if you are away in the field, I will feel much better knowing I am nearby and can reach you at a moment’s notice.

The goddess also seems not to be too happy with my work, I am not working at the same feverish pitch that I was initially, and there are times when I feel entirely lost. Have I made a mistake? Mour bhul hol neki? Maybe you were right, maybe I should have done it there where my living goddess is and where my divine inspiration has never deserted me.

But ah, Debi, what are we doing to our goddess’s land? We the people she gave birth to – she and her alia-balia Shibrai!

Be careful driving back dei – stick to the national highway – it is always safer on the main roads than in the interior ones. I hope your driver is clever enough to steer clear of the volatile areas. And call me as soon as you reach Guwahati – I will be waiting by the phone. Napahoribi.

Be very careful, Konmani.

Your

Deep

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The Horror, the Horror! (7)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Hi Deep

We are staying at the manager’s bungalow at Banani tea garden which is owned by the family of one of Gomati’s classmates. It is just on the border of Karbi Anglong district and quite safe since such disturbances are not allowed to disrupt the normal functioning of the garden – it would mean a loss of crores of rupees! Janoisoun. You know how it works. Besides, Banani falls under Nagaon district and there aren’t any Dimasa or Karbi people here. So I hope this makes you feel safe about me.

Don’t let these incidents get to you kintu, Deep. I know this is something you keep telling me all the time, but it’s my turn now to give you some advice. Gotike xoun. Like I told you on the ‘phone from Guwahati the day we last spoke, I do not want your work to suffer – it is an important task that you have undertaken and given the final revelation that you plan to make, it is going to make a lot of difference here in our land. Moi janou. Don’t take a sabbatical now, you will not be able to write here I know. The distance will help you focus on your work. Stay there, finish it. Yours is not a name people take lightly in academic circles – and if you spread the message of ethnic harmony and reconciliation through your book, it will be heeded, trust me. We need more and more people to spread that message now, Deep, and having seen all the suffering – in the raw – that I have in the last few days, I think I have learnt to be more practical about things budhoi. At first I was very depressed for a few days, and almost could not bear to go among the people and do all the work that had to be done jano – but then, slowly, consciously, I hardened myself. I told myself this is part of our reality today, and we have to face it, counter it, or perish. Tar pasot, that gave me the strength to carry on.

But it is a harsh reality dei. Very harsh. And I have been avoiding thinking about it for the last few days. That is why I have not been writing to you either. Writing to you makes me think, brings out all hidden emotions and feelings and all the suppressed desires. Often, it tires me jano – because I am always pouring out my soul to you. You know I write to you with all my heart and soul, don’t you Deep? And that can be very exhausting, very draining ketiyaba.  But it also often helps me make sense of all the things I experience and also to understand myself better. But right now, even though I am writing to you, I am afraid of doing it – of telling you what I have seen, felt, thought, experienced, hidden in my heart, in the last few days here. Mour bhoi hoi. I am afraid that if I write to you about it all, I will not be able to keep up the facade of detachment I have created for myself in order to be able to continue working among all this human misery, without picking up a gun of my own and hunting down and killing all those who are responsible for this. Pregnant women giving birth to stillborns, old people just giving up and dying, babies wailing, the young people getting angrier and angrier, and the government apathetic, as always. Why do they make people suffer like this, Deep? Of what use is power, politics, money, establishment if there is no happiness around you, ko? Can you be happy if your neighbour is wailing? Why, Deep, why? Why do they do this? Kio?

Right now I am sitting here on the lounge chair outside the bungalow, looking out across the huge front lawn at the gate and wishing for inspiration, for some bright spark to walk in through the iron gates and help me make sense of all these nonsensical questions. Birakti lagi jai! I woke up early, before any of the others and here I am, sitting on the porch of the bungalow. Behind the bungalow runs a small river and behind that is a huge forest. On three sides are the tea plantations and surrounding the bungalow are these tall segoon, gamari and other trees. Here you can hear the wind blow, Deep, jano. It is a noise I have not heard since I was a little child. It used to make me happy then – like it was my music and I was supposed to dance around to it. But the wind here now is only making me sad – it sounds like a dirge sung over the rotting remnants of humanity. Inani binani...

There are elephants here which come from the reserved forest behind the bungalow and travel miles every night in search of food. They used to go as far as Prasen da’s village and beyond, and Prasen da’s father used to have a tough time protecting his fields and orchard from these huge babus as they call them here. Man and animal have entered into conflict here for a long time, jug jug dhori, but despite such conflicts, they had lived together. It is a primordial conflict and neither did the other harm but out of extreme necessity or fear of each other. But today, man kills man for sport, plays brother against brother for political gains! He bhogoban!

Recently, the elephants had become more aggressive it seems, and people in Prasen da’s village had had to keep nightly vigil to chase away the animals when they came towards their fields. I got to know the reason yesterday – a surrendered insurgent – you remember how the government initially patronised the first lot of surrendered militants and gave them a free rein to do anything, kill anyone? – well, one of them decided he wanted to be a tea planter mane, jene tene, so he occupied a huge area in the reserved forest, cleared it of its jungle cover, and settled down to start his own garden. When I heard of this, I felt unreal, like I had suddenly travelled back in time to an age when European entrepreneurs grabbed our land at will, under the patronage of the colonial government, and set themselves up as tea planters. Only this was our government, and the entrepreneur is one of us – incidentally, one who had once taken up arms to liberate our ‘motherland’ from a colonial government. Abais!

Deep, I am so glad Bishnu Rabha is dead! He would have cried so if he had seen what we have come down to nohoine? And now I want to cry too. Deep, o Deep, why aren’t you here to hold me now and tell me it’s alright, it will all be over soon, it was just a nightmare? I don’t want to live this nightmare anymore, Deep. Aru nuaru. Maybe I could go hide my face in a flower somewhere and cry? But the flowers will also be splattered with dried blood, no?

Your Debi

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The Horror, the Horror! (8)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Deep, we got back to Guwahati yesterday. I have already mailed you the stuff I wrote to you from Banani. I still feel like I am in a stupor, like some part of me also died in that carnage. But I should not be burdening you with my manic outbursts dei. You need to finish your book. But don’t come here to write it Deep, you will not be able to. There is no inspiration here, nothing that is good and beautiful and true. Sob xex hoi gol! Finish it there and stay there – maybe I will also escape from this hell hole soon. Karon, if I don’t I will die. I wonder which of the two options is more preferable!

I asked Ma to come and stay with me for a few days. Like you, she has been very worried about me in the last few days. Sinta nohobounou kelei? But unlike you, she is here, and I needed someone to physically reassure me that there is still some love left in the world. While she ran her hands through my hair last night, I slept the soundest sleep in weeks, jano?

My poor Ma, she must also be so lonely out there with only the flowers in her nursery and the hired help for company. Bhabile beyai lage. But you know how fanatical she is about her flowers, and never leaves them for too long to go anywhere. And yet, when I asked her to come, she dropped everything and came down here to be with me for as long as I needed her. And one day soon, when I am done needing her, I will ask her to go back and leave me alone, and she will do just that without complaint. How selfish we offsprings are, nohoine?

I did not go to office today – I was feeling weird in the morning and Ma said I should rest. Thikei koise. I don’t think I want to go anywhere tomorrow either, or the day after that or the day after that. I just want to sit here all day and do nothing.

Jau etia

Write to you later

Smita

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Picking up the pieces

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Deep,

I can’t thank you enough for bearing with me these past few weeks through my breakdown. Hobo de, I know it was a mental breakdown although nobody wants to use that word around of me. I know there’s a stigma attached to it in our society. They think I’m mad or something... I am not an idiot. Hazarika mama may not be a psychiatrist, but then even a GP can prescribe medicines they give to mental patients. ‘It’s just exhaustion’, my foot! Mouk murkha patise sobei!

But, it was very comforting to hear your voice so often – I only wish you could be here in person. And my friends have all been so good to me throughout – Ma is now very good friends with Jit and Imu. Of course the two of them never visit together, the coldness between them seems to have turned to ice of late kobo nuarou kiyo. Thank god for Nilima and Gomati who would come and stay whole nights while I was out, sedated, or Ma would have died of boredom – how long can one stand guard over a sick person all alone? Prasen da came in between his visits to Hojai to find alternatives for his parents – besera it has been such a traumatic time for him, really, poor thing! And look at me – I broke down, when he was the one going through all of it firsthand. I never thought I was so weak... Seh!

Deep, I am so glad you are once again working so hard on your book. Finish it and come back soon. I miss you so... Uka uka lage.

Going to office after so long was scary – I almost turned away from the front door prai. But once Jit led me in, everybody was so nice to me, even Sunil, that I broke down and cried. They thought I must have had a breakdown again, but I assured them I had not and then we all got down to business.

I am very tired today – I have been very tired since yesterday – I am leaving home after how long now? Almost a month and a half? I should go get some sleep de. I hope you are getting some sleep too, Deep. Don’t work too hard.

Jatna lobi

Smita

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Picking up the pieces (2)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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Debi,

It is so nice to be getting your emails again – you don’t know how much your heartfelt outpourings mean to me. I have missed you Kalija, and I have missed knowing what is going on in that pure simple innocent mind and heart of yours.

But please stop all this nonsense about being weak or having gone mad – nobody thinks you are mad – having a nervous breakdown doesn’t make you mad de. It makes you sick, yes, but then there are so many different kinds of sicknesses – but why am I telling you all this? I know you know all this – don’t pretend you don’t, koi disou hole – and I don’t have to repeat it all now. So please buck up – like they say tangali bandhi lo – and get back to work now.

I have told you this over the phone so many times, and I am saying it again now, je the things you saw were so extreme, the sufferings you witnessed so inhuman, it is no wonder you could not take it – you with your safe, protected, urban middle class upbringing, and then there’s your heart – your pure heart – which could not comprehend the depths to which the people you feel such a kinship with have fallen. Amanabiya ghatana eibour.

Look at it this way, Moina, that the breakdown was the only way your mind knew to cope with all the horrors you have seen happening almost before your eyes, for the first time in your life boudhoi. After this, your mind will have no trouble reconciling itself to these harsh realities – instead of thinking you are weak, know that this is only going to make you stronger, buiso?

And you need to be more determined now than ever dei that you will carry on with your good work. Look at me, I almost abandoned my goddess and my very important work on her – she who has never abandoned me. Ki mahapap! I was going through this phase of – I don’t want to call it writer’s block exactly – but maybe a form of loss of inspiration. You had then held up my spirits and urged me to keep at it. Aru thanks to you, I did.

But what would have happened if I had given up, ko? Losing the contract with the publisher and making myself vulnerable to litigation is a secondary matter – I could have coped with it – but more importantly, I would have stopped trying to remind the people about the goddess’s ancient glory, her common ties with all the people of our land, and furthermore, failed to reinstate her in today’s godless world as one of our main hopes of harmony and peaceful co-existence. Kiman beya katha hoi gol hoi! My work is far from over, janou, but at least I am making good progress, and I can almost see the end which is my favourite part, where I unveil her true meaning and significance.

O Debi, touk keneke bujam, the last few days have been so terribly tiring but also extremely rewarding. I cannot wait to wrap up soon and return to you aru dei. I know you must have needed some loving reassurance so desperately, and I feel like I have abandoned you in your hour of need, jano. But I am glad that your mother was there and your friends are such nice people – I of course know none of this can make up for my absence. But I will definitely try to, I promise. Toure xapat! Till then, build up your strength, and be the strength of those people who need you and your message of peace and reconciliation now. There have always been bad people in this world Debi, and there always will be. What counts is how much good we have been able to spread. Bujiso? Be the god-like spirit you always felt yourself to be – give of the unlimited unrestrained goodness that you have in you – be the goddess they need again in our godless land.

Be forever my Debi,

Your Deep.

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Picking up the pieces (3)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Deep, o Deep,

Everybody says I need to be strong and get down to doing ‘my thing’, but I don’t know how ou! I don’t feel adequate and when you reminded me of how I used to feel godlike and unlimited, I feel like laughing at myself for my naivete etiya.

Ma had to leave today – beseri, her nursery must have turned into a graveyard of flowers by now. Poor Ma, her flowers are all she’s had to keep her going since deuta died, and now if her flowers are all dead because of me, I will feel so so so awful. Xasai bor beya lagibo. Before she left, she also told me to slowly get back to work and the normal routine.

But more than anybody else, Imu keeps trying to get me back in action day in and day out. I had discussed my idea of holding these mels everywhere with these guys when we were still in Haflong, and all of them were quite encouraging and enthusiastic about helping too. I am so blessed to have such friends. Bor bhal bandhu ihat dei. Of course, we had decided that we would have to take it easy baru – one step at a time like you said – and approach people cautiously at first, try to understand their mood, identify the underlying tensions, and only then launch our programme. But then, you saw how all hell broke loose and then I lost out to my own weaknesses... Si!

Now Imu says he will take me over the weekends to a few places he thinks would be best suited for a ‘pilot project’ as he grandiosely calls it, and I can begin implementing my idea. The others have not been so enthusiastic about this plan – they still think I should rest some more. You know how they always are over protective of me nohoine? And I think they have been growing more so the longer I have been with them janone. Besides, there is more work pressure in office since Arpita has left the organization – did I tell you that over the ‘phone? She has found a new job in Calcutta bule. And then I have also been away for so long de sun.

I feel tempted to take Imu’s offer and go this weekend – just this once and see if I can cope. Toi ki kawo? Your words inspire me most – as they do always. And yes, I think I will go. Thank you Deep, thank you for once again showing me the way. I think I can give it a try etiya.

Ok bye now, I’ve got to go and call Imu and ask him to make preparations,

Moromere

Debi

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Picking up the pieces (4)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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Debi Debi Debi

Hang on there alapman. If your friends think you are not strong enough yet to go on such a journey and undertake such work, they must have some reason, nohoi? Besides, when I said I wanted you to implement your vision, I did not mean immediately. Being this far away, I have no way of assessing your condition, whether you are as yet capable of taking any considerable amount of stress, mental or physical. Mour katha urai nidibi kintu. Please listen to your old friends – they have your best interests at heart. Don’t take any hasty decisions dei.

Deep

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Picking up the pieces (5)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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What is it with you, Deep? You always make this distinction between my old friends and new, kio baru? How can you measure the depth of friendship by the duration of time you have known the other person? Please don’t get on my nerves by saying things like this repeatedly! Koi disou hole!

If you cannot assess my condition – ‘mental’ and physical – from so far way, it is because you went away. Nobody forced you to leave. Ketiyau! You do your work your own way, and please let me do mine my own way. I know you are worried about my mental health, and so is everybody else around me, but believe me, I am fine. I am not going to go stark raving mad tomorrow or the day after that or ever and embarrass any of you. Sinta nai. If I do, just lock me up in an asylum and forget about me ok?

And I AM going with Imu this Saturday to Bogoribari – don’t worry it is just three hours’ drive from Guwahati. My ‘new friend’ Imu picked up the village because a) it is not very far away and b) there have been no manifest ethnic conflicts in the area so far and we will be going there to simply see if we can get the people of the two or three different communities there to talk to each other and start a mel.

And since you are so worried about my well being, I will email you once we are back de.

Smita

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Picking up the pieces (6)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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Uff abhimani suali! Why so touchy?

I never meant to hurt your feelings, Majoni. I only want what’s best for you. I am not your enemy, remember? Ne pahori goli?

So you are going to go with Imu to Bogoribari? Fine then, I guess you have to start somewhere. But please do take care of yourself.

And please stop worrying about your sanity – nobody but you yourself keeps thinking you will go mad. We all love you Debi, and even if you did go stark raving mad, I would love you and hold you forever in my arms. Najano neki?

Baru, email me when you are back

Deep

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Picking up the pieces (7)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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Debi

Where are you? You were supposed to be back latest by Monday! It’s Thursday today. I took Imu’s number from Gomati and tried calling him as well, but the phone was switched off. Your friends are going crazy with worry about you kintu. I need not tell you what state I am in sage. Gomati even called your mother hoping you might be with her – but don’t worry she did not tell her why she called, and made very discreet enquiries. Bhoi khabo nalage.

But it is not like you to put everybody into such tension. You my soft hearted little one, what has happened to you? My only hope is that you have wilfully kept us all in the dark, because we tried to stop you from going there. He bhogoban. I do not even want to think of the other more dangerous alternatives. Ufff!

Debi Debi Debi, write back, call, give me some sign that you are all right! Mouk aru kasta nidibi, Ai, don’t make me suffer anymore. 

Deep

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Picking up the pieces (8)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Oi Deep, how dare you guys call up my mother? If you didn’t call her, she would not have suspected anything and got so worried, and she would not have come rushing to Guwahati and she would not have been injured in the blast. Deep, Deep, what have you done? You prompted Gomati to make the call didn’t you? Nissay! You are responsible for this. I will never forgive you...

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Picking up the pieces (9)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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Debi, i ki? Are you my same little angel? My goddess? Who are you?

Do you know I had to get the news about your mother’s injury from Gomati? I heard about the blast and immediately called you, but you were not there. I called Imu’s phone but he did not respond. So I called Gomati and she tells me your mother barely escaped with her life! Ufff issar! And I have to get this news not from you but from your friend!

And why do you blame me so, Debi? What kind of enmity are you taking out on me ou? Who or what has filled you with so much poison, so much resentment against me, against everybody? Debi, please write back and explain yourself immediately. Aw etiyay!

I also demand je you keep me updated on your mother’s condition. I have asked my travel agent to book me a flight two weeks from now – I am submitting my manuscript in the next 10 days. I want to be with you immediately after that. The editors can send me the manuscript there and I will make the corrections and do the final proof reading from there. Ekou dangor katha nahai. But I know you need me there – so I am coming down as soon as possible.

And get a hold of yourself Smita! Ei boliyali bour er.

Your Deep

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Picking up the pieces (10)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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I am sorry Deep. I was taking out all my frustrations on you. You are right, I sound poisonous – I think I have become filled with poison, ah so much poison. How could I let this happen to me, he prabhu?

It was all my fault all along. If I hadn’t allowed Imu to persuade me to go beyond Bogoribari, this would not have happened ketiyau. Actually, it was such a success there, everybody seemed so nice and eager to talk to us and to each other, I thought we could do this easily – start a programme, spread a movement, and what not. Oh, how much I started day dreaming and building castles in the air – or akaxat sang pata as some people would call it.

But the next place we went to was very far away in the interiors – and there were lots of forests there and very few villages and very few people in the villages. We went to what seemed to me like the last village on earth – ximantar xexat ekebare – and Imu insisted this was a good place to start talking to the people bule. After spending a night there, we got to know that there was a designated camp of an insurgent group under ceasefire there. Ekebare usorote. So we went there and met with the insurgents, and although my idea was to talk to civilians only and to normal everyday people, not militants or government representatives or NGOs or security personnel or anybody of that sort, Imu said we could make a difference talking to these people about ethnic reconciliation. Mour tene loga nasil pise. I don’t think we could get across to them much – karon they did not seem to be listening to me with too much attention, and when we left in the evening, the camp commander followed us in his jeep to the village.

Aru, the next day, we started on our way back. We took a different route this time and found army check posts on the way. Imu asked the army jawans on guard who was the commanding officer there, and when they told us, Imu was very happy because it seems he was from Lucknow and used to know Imu when he worked there. What lucky coincidence! So we went to the army camp and freshened up and then made our way back to Guwahati abaxexat.

Kintu when we reached the outskirts of the city, we saw an unprecedented amount of vigilance, and lots and lots of check posts. When we asked, they said there had been a bomb blast in the city. Ki xantrax! Terrified, we immediately started calling up everybody from Imu’s cell phone. It was very difficult to get through to anybody because the networks had been jammed. When I finally got through to my mother’s cellphone, our driver picked it up and told me she had been injured in the blast. Xarbanax!

Deep, she had been coming to see whether I was alright and the bastards got her jano. She is in such a state of shock! Aiow! If the driver had not stopped at Maligaon to have some tamul that day, she would have been dead – a few minutes earlier and she would have been blown to pieces, instead of just being pierced by broken glass from her car window. They bombed my city-o Deep – the city where I grew up, where I played and walked to school and went to the market and visited relatives and friends, they tore it apart, killed hundreds, there were pieces of legs, arms, brains, feet, everything, everywhere. These are the people who are the keepers of our nationalism, the flag bearers of our revolution, nohoine! They who took up guns to liberate us, they now kill us. They fraternize with the enemy and we fraternize with the enemy – we do not deserve a place here in this land once sanctified by your goddess.

Goodbye my friend,

Bidai amar bandhu

Tour Debi

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Picking up the pieces (11)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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Debi,

Since when have you started fraternizing with the enemy, ha? Why are you counting yourself among those who are destroying the land we are working so hard to preserve? You sound so despondent – and rightly so. Our land has become so godless, they cross new limits of barbarism every day! He prabhu! But stop cursing yourself.

Please take good care of your mother, Majoni. When I come back, I shall persuade her to accept me into your family and we will both look after her. Thank god her injuries are not so deep, but I can imagine the shock she must be in. Beseri! She dropped everything to come take care of you when you needed her, now you should do the same dei. Be by her side always and do what you think is best for her sake. Jatna lobi.

I have to go for a meeting with my editor now, let’s catch up for a chat sometime soon. I don’t like you sounding so upset kintu dei.

Deep

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Picking up the pieces (12)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Deep, my Deep,

As always, you have given me the best advice possible. I have already decided to keep Ma close to me now – she is in a very fragile state – the shock of being carried through all the devastation, seeing all those mangled bodies – she says she can still smell burnt flesh! Aiow! I brought her home even though they wanted to keep her in the hospital for observation a few more days. Kiman kasta khabo aru beseri? I did not want her to be with all those people without arms or legs or faces, who could all only talk about the blast.

After her wounds heal, I think I will take her to Delhi for good, buiso. I know this will come as a shock to you, but Deep, I have decided to move back to Delhi with her. We will be vacating your house next week – hopefully before you get back. I can no longer live here, and my mother needs to get away too. Please don’t try to dissuade me kabow korisou – I have taken this decision after much deliberation. It is for the best. Trust me.

I do not deserve you, Deep, and I don’t deserve to stay here anymore. I have really joined the ranks of the godless in the land of your goddess, although you do not know it yet. And even if you did, I know you would still not want to accept the fact. But I know better, I know I should leave. Let me go, Deep, set me free. You will live a much happier life without me. Xasai koisou.

Smita

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Picking up the pieces (13)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Ok Deep, I promised over the ‘phone to write to you about why I have been insisting that I have been fraternizing with the enemy, so brace yourself dei. Somehow saying it over the ‘phone would have been more immediate – so I took the chicken’s way out. Not that a chicken can write emails, hoi ne? But well, I am writing to you, so what does that  make me...

Ok fine, I will stop stalling de and crack no more of those poor jokes. The thing is this, sa, when I had gone to Bogoribari with Imu, I suddenly realised all those veiled warnings you have been giving me about him were true – he did turn out to be a false friend, a pseudo nationalist. Bhondo sala! And I was so ashamed to have always resisted listening to you on this jano – turns out Jit also suspected something which is why the coldness between them. I went with him despite the fact that you didn’t want me to – Deep, what will I do without you? How will I live? Who will guide me and show me the right way in life? O Deep, how can I live without you?????????? Moi nuarou, moi nuarou, moi nuarou!

But no, I have to. Like I said, I do not deserve you, you my lover, my guide, and friend, I have betrayed your trust. Si si! I have seen how the enemy functions and though very little of it made sense to me and I still do not understand how the whole network functions, I have seen the devil in play. I have been with him for so many days, I went with him where I should not have, I saw things I wasn’t meant to, and although I still don’t understand the full implication or dynamics of the whole thing, suddenly things started falling in place – like why he would not stay with us in Haflong, like how he would not go near where the riots were happening... And then I saw him taking money from the insurgents – bissax koribi – I told you the camp commander had come to see us off till the village where we stayed two nights, nohoi? When he was leaving, he offered Imu money and Imu took it! He justified it by saying je after all, we had spent a lot on fuel in coming to see them. And then when we were returning, the alternative route we took was not incidental but as I figured out later, quite well mapped. Moi pasothe gom palou. I did not tell you in my earlier email, but when we reached there, Imu insisted I should go to the toilet and freshen up because we had a long journey ahead. What he didn’t know and what I haven’t told him etiyaloike is that when I got back from the loo earlier than he had expected I saw him taking money from the army officer as well, the same officer he called his friend but who seemed to be paying him off like one would be paying off a lowly servant. And when I saw him pocket the money, I can’t tell you how defiled I felt, how contaminated. Si kota! I almost threw up right there and all through the journey back home, bile kept rising in my throat. I told him I was tired and didn’t talk to him the rest of the way. And then you know the rest of the story aru...

So there you are now, Deep. dekhili, here’s what happens to stupid naive girls when they think they know all and ride away into the sunset with rosy pictures in their eyes, not heeding the words of wisdom that come from people who care and people who have seen the world more than they have. Thik koisou ne?

I am so terribly sorry, Deep, I let you down like this – and I let myself down and my cause and my commitment and my people. Soboke! But I have to remove myself – I do not want this house to be contaminated by my presence anymore – you are angry I called it your house, but I do not wish to stake any claim to it now – I do not want my presence felt here when you come back. I will not be here then, but do remember dei Deep, that I will always love you.

Smita

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Chat with Smitali.Sarma  (2)

Deep: Debi, I know you are online, so chat with me.

Deep: Debi!

Smita: Do I have a choice?

Deep: You are damn right you don’t.

Deep: What kind of stupid nonsense is this? Just because you did not suspect a supposed friend to be a mercenary does not mean you have fraternized with the enemy nohoi. Stop being so theatrical again, Bhagyadebi.

Deep: Ki hol? Where did you disappear?

Smita: Asu asu, I’m here.

Deep: If anybody is godless, it is him. Rant against him, bring him to book, expose him for what he is. But for god’s sake, do not be so unduly harsh on yourself, Debi. Doya kor, Ai.

Smita: I am not being unduly harsh, xasai koisu.

Deep: The way you are going on and on about having joined the ranks of the godless, and being one with the enemy, anybody would think you have also taken money and traded information. You did not do that did you?

Smita: Nai nai, pagol neki? No way!

Deep: Then?

Smita: Hmmm.

Deep: Don’t behave like you were hand in glove with him tenehole. And then what is all this nonsense about leaving the house and going to Delhi again? I told you when we spoke that I do not wish to hear any more of that nonsense, koisilou ne?. You will be there and your mother will be there till I come back and can convince her to accept me and then we will all live together. She will get over her shock with time, but if you want to take her for a visit to Delhi, and think a change might be good for her, do it. But I want you there in the house – our house – when I reach there. Is that understood?

Smita: But you don’t understand.

Deep: What don’t I understand Moina?

Smita: I am a terrible person!

Deep: Why do you keep insisting that you are when everybody around you knows you are not, ha?

Smita: I am I am

Deep: Is there something you haven’t told me about then? Ko?

Deep: Debi?

Deep: Smita?

Deep: Did you sleep with him?

Deep: ???????????

Smita: Yes, I did.

Smita: I DID, I DID!

Smita: Now do you know what a terrible person I am and that I don’t deserve you? You deserve much better. I told you I am weak, and I am. Ufff issar!

Smita: He got me drunk that night in the village, and I didn’t know how it happened but it did.

Smita: No I didn’t put it quite right – I drank too much one night at the village, he didn’t force me to drink or anything – eneye koisu – and then I slept with him. I gave up all that was good and yours in me that day. I gave myself up to the devil.

Smita: Deep? Are you there?

Smita: Deep? Goli neki?

Smita: I knew you wouldn’t be able to take it. I couldn’t take it myself when I came to my senses. Nijor prati ghrina hoisil. I hated myself. I knew when I did that I had lost you, I had failed you, that what I had with you was over. The best thing to have happened to my life was over, and I had no one to blame but myself.

Smita: Deep, Deep, o Deep. How tortured I have been feeling the last few days wanting to own up to you, but not having the courage to. But knowing I cannot let you keep me in your life after what I have done. Aiow!

Smita: Deep, are you there? Talk to me na please! I need to know you understand why I have been behaving the way I have been in the past few days. Ah na Deep, mour katha xoun na, please, talk to me.

Smita: But I guess you are gone. You cannot stand to talk to me now budhoi. I know you realise now that what I have planned for me and my mother is the right thing to do. Bye Deep, I will understand if I did not hear from you ever again.

Wrath of a Goddess

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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Debi

How you punish me for my momentary weakness! I know my first reaction to your revelation about Imu was quite shameful, and I am really sorry about it. Khemibi mouk! It was an impulsive reaction and I had forgotten for sometime there je the flesh has its own hunger. It doesn’t matter that you slept with somebody, it just proves you are a red blooded young woman who needs some sexual contact now and then – don’t I feel the lack of it myself sometimes? And after all, if I hadn’t left you for so long, it might not have come to this sage.

And then, it is very easy to be seduced by the devil, Debi, but it takes a lot of courage to overcome that seduction and set yourself free of it. You have done it, and I hold no grudge against you, my goddess. Xasai, mouk bissax kor, Ai.

Didn’t the demon king Narakaxur try to seduce Kamakhya herself once? Why should you feel defiled, Debi – rather, he should feel chastened by your touch – this is one demon from the land of our goddess who has been thus privileged.

Baru tell me, do you think any less of Bishnu Rabha because of his many sexual encounters? Does it take anything away from the fact that he was the perfect man in every way? I certainly don’t think so, and I know neither do you. Moi bhaldore janou. Then why be so harsh on yourself?

But then, wasn’t I harsh on you myself? Hai hai! Me the worshipper of the yoni goddess, I failed you! Kelei baru? How can I ever beg you for your forgiveness, Debi? And yet, I do not think I deserved the punishment you have given me.

Why Debi, why? Why did you leave me? And this after I spoke to you and begged you to stay. I told you that your one night with Imu does not change anything – my love for you, my adoration has not diminished. Bissax kar, I still want you, need you in my life, my goddess. Without you there is no inspiration.

Debi, Debi, you did not even leave a forwarding address with your friends nor any contact number. Such anger, my goddess! What terrible wrath, o Ai! Kelei?

You know I can still find you through other means – moi janou toi jano – but I want you to come back to me of your own accord. I live in the hope that you will forgive me and come back, my love.

Yours forever

Deep

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Wrath of a Goddess (2)

Smita Kakoty to Dipankar.Bhattacharjee

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Deep, o Deep, what have I done baru? Here I am, the culprit, the blackest creature in all of creation, and you are asking me for forgiveness? Where do you find all that generosity in your soul-o? Why did I go and ruin it all dhet! With your immense breadth of intellect and integrity and everything else, you might say it was ok, that you understand what I did, why I did it, and you might take me back all the same. But fact is I failed you, my love. I failed me.

When did the goddess ever give in to the demon king’s seduction, ko? She was wily that one, and tricked him out of his infatuation. And me who you call your ‘goddess’ did not even see it coming. Si si. And Bishnu Rabha was not the perefct man, Deep, he was the perfect Axamiya man, and his talents were so many that a few transgressions here and there can be overlooked. He had other faults too – like that famous temper of his – but people don’t remember him for all that – they rememebr him for his genius and his contributions. What have I done? Who am I in comparison? Moi koun? Xunya. Nothing, zero!

Oh god Deep, really, what have I done? This is the end of everything is it not? The end of love is the end of everything is it not? Xakalou xex? Life is not worth living if there’s no love, nohoine? Why did I do this to you Deep? You who loved me so much, you who gave me so much, much more than love... Why are people so selfish Deep? Why was I so selfish? Why did I do this to you and to me?

Do you think if I went back to you, I will ever be able to face you and look you in the eye, ever? Nai nai! Fact is I am corrupted – the land of your goddess is corrupted, everybody there is corrupted and I let that corruption touch me – with all my tall talk of bringing about ethnic reconciliation and setting things right, I went and joined the ranks of those who have rejected all the good and the beautiful and the true in their lives and surroundings and been corrupted, blackened to their very soul.

And yet, sometimes I think, janone, ‘why me’? Why did he pick on me and walk me down this route when I was not an essential part of the plan – I am not an essential part of anything in the entire scheme of events. Then why me? Bujike napalou moi.

You know how I have never been able to take sex casually – it has always been something deep, something mysterious, something so – to call it spiritual would be a cliché, but something close to it. And then you told me about the bamasar rituals and the ratikhuwa cult and how sex is an essential part of the worship of the goddess. With you, I always felt it, jano, I always felt like I was blessed to be able to share that physical bond with you. But what did I end up doing ha? I ended up having casual sex with the one person you always warned me about – only I didn’t pay heed to you. Tour katha nuxunilou moi. I let myself be touched by the scum. And so I should now banish myself to the place where all scum lives. I should join my kind there, those who know not what love is, those who give up what they have for what is not worth having... Where is this place I do not know. Kobo nuaru. Maybe it is where I live. Maybe I carry it around wherever I go. Yes, I think it is most definitely me... Hoi, hoi! It’s me.

Deep, I have to go through this separation with you – that is the only fitting punishment for me. Bissax kor. So goodbye, my love. And I beg you - never forgive me please – I could not survive that. Anything but that...

Aru, please do not write to me again – I am closing this email account anyway – I do not want the corruption in my soul touching you anymore. Be with your goddess, your own true goddess and she will find you your soul mate. Moi nohoi. I who was your goddess by proxy for so long have proved my unworthiness to even live in her land. Bidai!

Smitali

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Wrath of a Goddess (3)

Dipankar Goswamito Smita Kakoty

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No Debi, no. Do not abandon me! Doya kor Ai! The empty house haunts me. Why did I come back at all, ko! My goddess, you are being too harsh on yourself, and too cruel to me. How can there be any corruption in your soul, Debi, you who cleanse all who you touch? And I need you now more than ever, Debi, when I am here trying to swim with so many of our people against the tide in a deep red river of blood. Debi-ou! Our Luit, your old man Luit, your Brahmaputa, has turned red.

Ah Debi, the goddess Kamakhya also seems to be growing more and more distant every day while you drift away from me. My kind and benevolent goddess – ai goxani – who I thought was working even today towards uniting all the children of her land, all the people she gave birth to in the land she has nurtured for so long – seems to be metamorphosing every day into a cold hearted distant force, watching as those same children slit each others’ throats and fertilize her land with gore. Ki bhayankar xei drissa!

She nurtures us no more, she only watches and waits – for what though? Kune jane? I think maybe she waits to watch our destruction. Everywhere here, there is only mayhem, all this turmoil. You must have been reading the media reports, porhisone? About fresh ethnic violence in Udalguri and Darrang districts. They have now spread even up to Chirang and Bongaigaon. In Karbi Anglong and NC Hills, there are fresh bomb blasts everyday; gunfights are routine. The government is arming civilians there to fend for themselves bule – creating more agents of death, giving them the license to further dehumanise themselves and their communities. Kikhon je hoi ase! Meanwhile, those who have been killing for so long with state sanction, the armed forces, show no signs of ceasing to exercise their ‘special powers’ to kill in false encounters, arrest arbitrarily and molest our mothers and sisters. Two middle aged housewives were raped yesterday by paramilitary soldiers sent to quell the riots. Every other day, some ‘suspected militant’ is killed in an ‘encounter’. Four days ago, it was a 14 year old school boy. And while all this continues, all I can do is wonder where is she, my goddess who has the power to stop it all?

And the answer came to me today in a sudden flash – she has no intention of stopping it at all, buiso? She wants us to annihilate each other, because she feels we do not deserve to live anymore, Debi. We the people of her land have abandoned our gods, abused their patronage, nohoine? Now we pay for it – we pay for it with our blood and the blood of our kin. When her devout followers are thirsty, the goddess will sever her own head to give them a drink of her own blood. Monot ase ne moi je koisilou? She is Sinnamasta then. But when they incur her wrath, she will allow their blood to flow.

Ah, terrible goddess, I have so long failed to understand where this was all heading, and was persuading myself to think otherwise. Now I know why you are Samunda, Kali, Mahixaxurmardini, Kesaikahiti... You will watch us – your thankless children – wipe ourselves out and then you will watch some more, as your consort dances his dance of death over our corpses!

It was a pretty scene your Bishnu Rabha drew, Debi, of the natua petua Shiva, dhatura flower on his matted hair, dancing his tandav – a dhir sthir stately tandav - while his wife, our dear goddess, Ai Goxani, reddens her lips on the tamul she chews and watches benignly. Nai nai, Debi, there is nothing benign about the vision I have of Mahadev Shiva now dancing his dance of destruction – the same dance that had broken the back of the demon sent to destroy the god; the same dance that he had danced when his wife, our goddess, threw herself in the holy fire.

With every powerful gesture of his hands, in every turn of his torso, every shake of his buttocks, we move a step closer to our destruction. Ah Debi, how awful that spectre! How fascinating, how alluring! Come back to me Debi, ghuri ah na, and we will watch that dance of death and destruction – along with our goddess – and feel the terror and cleanse our souls. Come Debi, let us be the goddess and her consort and ourselves do that terrible dance.

We will watch as the soil of our land turns red with all the blood that will flow over it, we will swim in a river of corpses, and worship the god of death, to the rhythm of the universe, in ecstasy! And we will clap our hands in frenzy, in frenzy, as our man Rabha sings from his soul: Bissar sande sande mahanande anande...

And when it is all over, we will lie down side by side and weep...

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Wrath of a Goddess (4)

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