A demonic manifestation of political power
A thing may or may not be beautiful but it certainly is powerful when it speaks the truth. With a clear and loud voice of conscience, it transforms itself into a most reliable and, therefore, a valid document mirror imaging atrocities most barbaric and nefarious. And this exactly is recorded in Marudyaney Nandigram 2007, by Kabir Sumon, formerly known as Sumon Chattopaddhaya. The book is a compilation of only nine not so elaborate write-ups that appeared in three different newspapers of West Bengal over a period of roughly one year.
It is a depiction of a real life story, the consequence of a policy of the government concerning acquisition of land of the common people who are poor yet contented with their life and livelihood on land that has been theirs for ages. The same old story of land grabbing by the high and mighty in some form or other with a total disregard of the disturbance, disruption, dislodging and destruction brought about in the lives of the dwellers has been repeated here at Nandigram in East Midnapore of West Bengal. And the purpose? It is acquisition of land for industrialisation that is synonymous with development policies and its concretisation.
This act at Nandigram followed a similar one at Singur in 2005. Although people launched an agitation there trying to resist the government's plan to acquire their arable land, the latter was successful in fulfilling its purpose through some political scheme. Although this particular problem has not yet been resolved completely, yet perhaps by an apparent sense of success, the government went on applying the same policy in Nandigram a year after, which was sometime in late 2006. The whole plan and procedure for implementing it backfired.
People in rural Nandigram would not simply acquiesce, as a result of which a mass uprising and all-out resistance took place. It was a sequel to police brutalities, atrocities and macabre tactics at the diktat of the ruling party. There was a demonic manifestation of political power; the rulers mutated into oppressors and became the perpetrators of the most brutal kind. Killing, arson, looting, rape, intimidation and similar other tactics had a free reign at the hands of the police force with the blessings of the Marxists. The writer has drawn an analogy between the most barbaric act of the British colonial police on the unarmed, non-violent march of the common people, historically known as Salt March in Dandi, with that of the police force at Nandigram. Here he has echoed the first sentence of a report by an American reporter in the New York Times on this incident, stating that the civilisation of the west has been obliterated today. The writer resolutely notes that on 14 March 2007, civilisation in West Bengal, and therefore, India too met with the same fate.
Marudyaney Nandigram is a poignant tale of human misery. The writer's knowing it as an eyewitness has rendered the language spirited, as if it is impregnated with fire, a fire that can consume all ills by reducing them to cold ashes. Kabir Sumon, being a thoroughly conscious man, does not keep himself limited to armchair rhetoric. He rather puts to practice whatever he feels ought to be done in an hour of crisis caused to humanity. He can make others march with him for a justifiable cause and there he is a fearless leader. No wonder the back cover of this book (comprising only 40 small size pages) describes him as someone who is radioactive.
This reviewer had an opportunity of talking with the writer of this book while the following points emerged. The majority of Nandigram's population are Muslims, the rest being Dalits. This gives a communal tinge to the whole incident from the government's side, but its reverse is seen in the unity of Hindus and Muslims in protecting the latter's right to their property. The role played by women was most courageous: they took up whatever household implements they had at their disposal to combat the very sophisticated firearms of the marauders. This reminds one of the awakening of Indian women who fought side by side with men during the civil disobedience in 1930. The Nandigram incident has been termed a victory of peasants against the beastly might of the government.
The writer has not put down his pen once he has reported on such a gory incident. Indeed, he has leavened the whole account with much laconic humour, transforming parts of it into a satire. One such example relates to hearing about the death toll at Nandigram caused by police brutalities. The chief minister comments that he is not aware of so many people living there. The writer mocks it, noting that ignorance is sweet! Sumon expresses his utter indignation at the character of politicians across India, adding that had there been a TV show called 'Who will be a politician?' modeled after the show 'Who will be a crorepati?' God knows what bizarre things would have come out of that!
Kabir Sumon wears multiple feathers in his cap, shining brightly in near every sphere --- as a composer, lyricist, singer, novelist, columnist, and broadcaster. But the quality that describes him best is most probably his concern for the underdog, across the globe. The same concern and involvement he had shown in 1984 when he travelled to Nicaragua to see for himself how the Contras had been ravaging village after village. His fellow feeling for the oppressed sans borders is most laudable.
Kabir Sumon cannot just accept that rehabilitation and/or compensation, for that matter, can be a remedial measure for the great sense of loss and grief for these simple folk who have lived in Nandigram for generations. On top of this, this historical place called Tammrolipti or Tomluk had its own independent government side by side with that of the British way back in the '40s and could not be accessed by the colonial army. Ironically, what the British government could not do has been done by the CPI (M) in a predatory manner. And here lies his woe, erupting in a volcanic tremble through his words and acts as a TV journalist. In spite of all this, Kabir Sumon is not content with himself and his role at Nandigram. He feels a sense of profound unfulfilment that in this reviewer's estimation is the characteristic of a committed social warrior.
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