Monot Pore...

Monot Pore Din Kaita Loi
Tumar Misikia Hahiti Loi
Soku Jaai Tumar Aramor Soki Khonoloi
Jen Hothat Tumar Maat Ti.... Maaa, Ahila!

Monot Pore... Airportor Pora Namiye
Tumar Khula Haat Dutiloi
Bihutu Ahile Kiyonu Monot Pore
Tumar Jetuka Bhora Bhorir Anguli Loi?

Monot Pore...Paniketir Bagisat Bohi
Lahe Lahe Juwa Din Keitaloi.

Xopunot Tumi Kintu
Dithokot Tumar Smriti..

Monot pore...
Tumar monot pore ne Deta?

Remembring Dad on his birthday today. My icon, my inspiration , my ROCK! Love you always Deta. Miss you.
23rd Aug 2011

The past emerged suddenly

I landed at Indira Gandhi International Airport in the wee hours of the morning. Bahadur and Lucky Singh were waiting outside to drive us to the domestic airport where we shall take our connecting flight to Guwahati. I was glad to leave behind the cold London winter and was looking forward to a few weeks of being pampered by my family. Just as I parked myself at the executive lounge for a cat nap, the Television Breaking news broke my sleep let alone my jetlag - Arobindo Rajkhuwa (AR) arrested. It brought back memories of my documentary on Assam. Too many thoughts gushed through my mind....

India Trip 2005: There comes a time in your life where you finally want to walk the walk and talk the talk. This was such a trip. I just showcased my first short film and the success it had at Cannes International Film Festival, France; boosted my adrenalin to embark on my burning desire within- A documentary on the families of ULFA.

Now, I am far from being a journalist. The only experience I have, like many, is that I grew up in the dysfunctional state of Assam in the mid eighties. My questions were from my gut, from a housewife, from a daughter of the same soil. I wanted to capture the humane aspect of it from a common man/woman’s perspective. The only rule I had for myself -don’t have any judgements, don’t show any emotions. Let them talk- this story is about them- not YOU. You shall get your answers along the way. Have patience. Easier said than done! I wanted to react badly to most of their answers but somehow refrained myself from doing so.

I had a sheltered childhood even though I was not remotely affected by the uprising. The only few memories I had was that when the lights went off while we were studying in the evenings, the black outs happened and in that silence one could hear gunshots in the nearby hills.... A man in the middle of the road in broad daylight, not far from my house had cut his chest and wrote from his blood- We Will Give Blood But Not Oil. (Tez Dim, Tel Nideu).. as if a warning to the Indian Government to stop exploiting Assam of its richness and to give back more. The road procession to Oil India campus during the Assam Agitation.. The endless trail of people walked passed our front door. I remember my parents getting buckets of water for the thirsty protesters. Today Assam has been liberally ploughed back with ample of money from the Central Government. The Assam Agitation followed by the new robin hoods that emerged and drifted away from the non violet agitators formed an armed group i.e. ULFA which had mass support and later the same ‘janta’ disowned them. What went wrong? What provoked or what motivated them to take up arms in the first place? What did they do to lose the trust from society later?

Friday December 23rd : Armed with just my driver in my dad’s old ambassador car, along with a trusted friend who could handle my camera, I was on my way to Upper Assam; to capture on film and to quench my thirst on a story what started as an uprising in the history of Assam: the formation of the most wanted separatist group in India- United Liberation Front of Assam (ULFA).
My documentary revolves around the families of the banned outfit. For me, they are the real heroes, who despite all the harassment & humiliation, continues to survive and live within the society. The courage and endeavour they must have been through- their only fault being that they belonged to families of the banned outfit. Being under scrutiny 24/7, their phone calls tapped, insulted at their own premises, getting threatening calls, mental harassments and sometimes even physical torture for something they have not done makes me wonder how they cope with it all and still continues to smile and live a normal life. I love my privacy and thinking of it makes me cringe.

My first destination was Arobindo Rajkhuwa’s place in Lakuwa, a remote corner in Assam’s Sibsagar district. One evening I contacted Rajkhuwa’s brother Ajoy in a very seedy hotel in Poltonbazar, Guwahati. I was apprehensive but he turned out to be a middle aged, decent and humble man. After a little chat with me, he invited me to his place the following week and that is where I was heading. I was lost in Sibsagar. My flashy cell phone lost its network too and I stopped to make a phone call only to find out that it was a police reserve. There I was in the beginning of my journey- lost network, no proper destination address and not a single known face around me. As we drove down the dark narrow bumpy road with little electricity, it made me wonder how a boy from this remote area had a vision for his land. It’s usually the have-nots that have it in them and AR was a true example.

I wanted to reach before dusk but failed to do so. The Rajkhuwa household had prepared a feast but my sole intention was to have a word with Aaita, Rajhkuwa’s ailing mother. I wanted to have a quiet moment with her but that was impossible as the entire dynasty gathered to be introduced and I was being my decent self exchanging pleasantries. By the time I got Aaita all for myself, my camera light was not working and I had to film in whatever light that was available there.
Aaita was a frail yet emotionally strong lady. She could barely see and felt my hands most of the time. She hoped that I would bring back her son which I rectified. I was there to talk to her about my documentary. Regardless, we talked. Her emotions were just unfolding and all I did was held her hand. She is in her nineties yet her strength made me feel weak. The more we talked; anger filled my mind for her son and a question inside- How could she still long for him after all the unpleasantness she endured from the army and society. He misled her from the very beginning. One morning as she was weaving in her front veranda, he clicked one last snap of his mother saying that he was off to the Namghar (shrine) for a few weeks. Months later she found out that he had joined the outfit.

Aaita has lived many lives in one lifetime. She had the pride of being a freedom fighter’s wife. Years later, she was the Indian army’s target for being AR’s mother. If that was not enough she lost her first son to the secret killings that took place in the state. I have become almost blind crying all the time she said but I still hope to see xorupai (my youngest) one day. My last question to her: what will you say to him if you see him today? Without batting an eyelid she said- Ghoroloi gusi ah. Kheti kori kha- (Come home. Lead a simple farmer’s life here). I got very little sleep that night. Her words and her face were on my mind and added anger filled my mind for her son. My journey continued but her face stayed on my mind forever.

Back home in London I sat down to write to Arobindo Rajkhuwa- about my interaction with his mother and an email accusing him of what he had done to his mother and how could he hurt her deliberately. It was an email where I bombarded him with allegations and verbal brutality as I was certain, it would be a one way street. To my surprise an email arrived from the chairman himself, nothing aggressive compared to mine. Just saying -thank you for seeing my mother and for the photos. I miss her and have seen her after a very very long time. The last few last words saying - my motherland is greater than my mother.
Now this very man has been handed over by the Bangladesh government to the Indian intelligence. This all happened while he was just about to execute his exit from Bangladesh with his family and take a new secured shelter elsewhere. All we know is that no one has seen him since he joined the group. As I write this in Guwahati, he is just a few yards away from my home in Kahilipara where he is in safe housing. The media will flash his face over and over again from now onwards as the founder member and chairman of ULFA in custody. The Government might think that they just won a jackpot and that the key to their problem is under manacles.
The peace talks might be renewed but that to me is like boys with toys in a school playground- I shall bat, you ball and vice versa. You give me my boys back, we regroup, get stronger or is it just another senior level strategy that I have lost fate in?

These to me are very cosmetic. This will not get back our sheltered childhood, nor will it bring solace to the mothers who lost their loved ones in the decades of tragedy. Not even to the lady I met in Nowgaon during my filming, she had two sons- one joined ULFA, the other joined the police force- sadly both died- who is actually benefiting from this? Definitely not the people of Assam who are the real sufferers. Has anyone bothered to even ask their opinion?

Unless the government takes sovereignty in the agenda, no talks will happen with ULFA says their Commander in Chief Poresh Barua. Sovereignty is not in the constitution of the Indian Government. Now, the Indian constitution is a wonderful document and it can be amended as it has had 94 amendments in less than 60 years of its enactments. So what’s the harm in putting the word Sovereignty in the agenda? Amendments do not grant sovereignty, it will just open a dialogue and perhaps save millions of innocent lives and destructions in the coming years. What’s more important for the government? I feel everything in this world can be solved if people talk. The Government can decide if they want to amend the constitution again. Big Deal!
However, if we can address as to why it all started and if we can amicably solve that, I think we are laughing!

Bublee

MAJULI

More on Majuli

HOW ASSAMESE XASIPAT IS MADE

Assam is known for its rich tradition of making sanchipat (manuscripts) from the inner bark of the sanchi (aloe) tree. It is believed that the manuscripts were produced in Assam long before the 7th century A.D., through a complex, long and intricate method of preparation. This tradition is not known to have existed in any place apart from Assam. Mr Girin Saikia, Librarian of Sankardev Study Centre, Bardoa, Nagaon is explaining this process

Attempting my first Assamese Sonnet !

The sun is about to set, the water in the pond had a glittering golden shine to it. In our film language we call this the magic hour. Most stunning photography is done during this time of the day. It was a long awaited trip to the tea gardens. I badly needed some time to switch off from my schedule. Minku and Tuki are close friends and we had the privilege to meet them in Muktabari Tea Estate.

As my other half caught up with his friend sharing an old monk, I drifted away to the backyard. Surrounded by fresh garden leaves stood an Assam-Type house with a pond flowing nearby. White ducks swayed in it. It looked even brighter under the shadows of the sun that will soon disappear. The stillness in the air except an odd bird chirp made the moment last in my mind. As I heard echoes of laughter coming from the front garden, I parked myself at the edge of the pond.

A sudden urge prevailed in me to write something… something completely foreign. I wanted to express in a language I never dared to write before although I proudly call it my mother tongue.

Shame on me! I was writing my first Assamese Sonnet in English. I decided to dedicate it to the pond (read river) and Minku’s beautiful backyard


Misiki ke hahi mari
Nemata kaile baru tumi
Ojaan ojaan lage jodiu
Lage kionu, ojibonor aamar aai enazoree

Junak raati, xitol botahor majere
Kee nu koi gola tumi?
Bujibo khujileu janu, paam ne buji tumar monor kotha khini khuli ?

Assam on Al Jazeera..

A current affairs piece for Al Jazeera International for their People and Power slot.
Hazel and I had a roller coaster ride as the army/intelligence followed us in Upper Assam while filming this piece in February 2007.

Our crew consisted of her, me, my driver and a hired red sumo…and of course endless phone calls everyday from AJI.

Research, contacts and ground work done by Sanchayita Sharma.
Film edited and commissioned to Hazel Chandler

Part 2:

An elephantine orphanage in Asom

We've all heard of orphanages for children, but one for elephants is rather hard to believe.

The Wildlife Trust of India (WTI) has set up a first-of-its-kind orphanage centre for elephants inside the Manas National Park in Asom.

The Assam Elephant Orphanage Centre, which is to be inaugurated on Saturday, was established in wake of the increasing number of animals, particularly elephants, becoming orphan in the state.

The Deputy Chief of Bodoland Teritorial Council (BTC) Kampa Borgoyary will introduce three elephant calves in the orphanage on its inauguration. Three others would be introduced later under the supervision of WTI.

The International Fund of Animal Welfare (IFAW) would also extend support to the project and also to other cases of wildlife destitutes.

Elephants Released Into Wild for First Time in India

(Assam, India – 26 February 2007)
IFAW (International Fund for Animal Welfare) and its partner, WTI (Wildlife Trust of India) today announced that six elephant calves have been successfully released to the wild in Manas National Park.
The elephants—which were hand-raised at the Centre for Wildlife Rehabilitation and Conservation (CWRC)—were transported 450 kilometers from India’s Kaziranga National Park to Manas National Park.

Background of the elephants

* On August 28, 2002 CWRC staff rescued a two-week-old elephant calf (male) from a trench on the Numaligarh tea estate. The orphaned calf was brought to CWRC for care. The elephant is now five years old.
* The second elephant calf (male) was one-year-old when it was rescued from flood waters in Digboi by the forest department and brought to the centre on December 8, 2002. The elephant is now six years old and the oldest of the calves.
* The third elephant calf (male) was rescued by CWRC staff from Koliabor near the town of Tezpur on October 3, 2003. It had been stranded and orphaned. The elephant is now three-and-a-half-years old.
* The fourth elephant calf (female) was rescued from the Rupajuli tea estate in Tezpur by estate workers on September 23, 2004. The two-month-old animal had been injured after it fell in a trench and was displaced from its herd. The animal was handed over to CWRC for care. The elephant is now two-and-a-half-years old.
* The fifth elephant calf (female) was rescued from the Barsapori tea estate by estate workers on October 14, 2004. The two-month old calf was displaced from its herd and was handed over to CWRC for care. The elephant is now two-and-a-half-years old.
* The sixth elephant calf (male) was about one-year-old when it was rescued from the Numaligarh tea estate on October 19, 2004 and brought to the centre for care. The elephant is now three-and-a-half-years old.

In Manas the elephants will be reintegrated into a wild herd once they are familiarized with the area. It is the first time elephants have been rehabilitated and released to the wild in India. Sri Lanka and Kenya are the only other countries to have successfully released hand-raised elephants into the wild.

“The elephants will be allowed to move freely in the jungle during the daytime under the supervision of a keeper,” said Dr. N. V. K. Ashraf, Director Wild Rescue of WTI. “At night, for their security, they will be sheltered in a stockade built in an area of about one hectare [about 10000 sq. meters].”

The elephants were transported to an area of Manas called Doimari, an ideal elephant habitat located far from the nearest human habitation. It is the biggest continuous forest habitat (unfragmented habitat) in India’s north-east region and extends from the Indian state of Assam up to the country of Bhutan.

“All six elephants are being radio-collared for post-release monitoring. If there is a problem we can find and rescue them,” said Dr. Bhaskar Choudhry, wildlife veterinarian of WTI.

The six elephants, which range between two-and-a-half and six-years-old, were hand-raised at the rehabilitation center (CWRC) in Kaziranga. The young calves were rescued from different parts of Assam and have been at the centre from one-to-five years. CWRC is India’s first multi-species rehabilitation facility and was set-up in partnership between WTI, IFAW, and the Assam Forest Department.

M. C. Malakar, Chief Wildlife Warden, Assam and D. M. Singh, Kaziranga Park Director were present at the elephants send-off from the centre in Kaziranga. Kampa Borgoyari, Deputy Chief of the Bodo Territorial Council (BTC) received the elephants in Manas.

A six-member veterinary team comprising doctors from the College of Veterinary Science, Guwahati, Dr. Bijoy Dutta and Dr. Bhupen Sarma, Dr. Bhaskar Choudhry, Dr. Anjan Talukdar, and Dr. Ashraf of WTI, and Dr. Raj Jyoti Deka (as independent consultant) accompanied the elephants on their journey from Kaziranga to Manas.

A. J. Cady, Director Animals in Crisis and Distress, IFAW, and Vivek Menon, Executive Director, WTI also joined the elephants. Mr. Cady symbolically released the elephants in Manas, signifying arrival to their new home. The exercise is part of the elephant rehabilitation programme initiated by WTI and IFAW with support from the Assam Forest Department.


For media-related inquiries, contact:
Chris Cutter (IFAW, US)
Tel: +1 (508) 737-4623
Email: ccutter@ifaw.org

Mandeepa Ahluwalia (WTI)
Tel: +91 981 168 8851
Email: mandeepa@wti.org.in

The National Games in Asom

It’s been a few years since we heard that the National Games would take place in Guwahati and along with it, came the speculations- can Chief Minister Tarun Gogoi and him team make it happen? Is it possible to even consider that such an event is feasible in a dysfunctional state like Asom? Of course Manipur had done it earlier and they probably have the highest rebel groups in North-East hence, equally if not more dysfunctional than us. I have to be honest here. The games being postponed several times, personally I gave up hope, went ahead and booked my filming schedule months in advance which I couldn’t change. My loss, as my shoot collided with the games.

All went well. The National Games indeed take place, ULFA kept their promise and the state did a fantastic job of hosting it. I badly wanted to be there cheering for our team. I have done that many a times as a child when Deuta was intensely involved with the Bordoloi Trophy. Cinema and Sports have been around in our house as far as I can remember. We had players living with us as family members and the endless parties Maa hosted before our table tennis team left for the Nationals. I guess it also reminded me of my Badminton days. The unity, the power and of course the pride I had (by the way still do), when I represented the state once in Mini Nationals. Today, I think I will lose a game to an amateur but then, that’s another story.

I could empathise with the participants, their joy of not just representing the state but also being the host team and if that is not enough, appearing in the top three rankings, not to mention the pressure to win in “home grounds”. This confirms that regardless of us being stamped as a race of “lahe lahe” Asom won gold in speed races like swimming and cycling apart from the other sports. Despite carrying on army operations in some corner of the state, we are still capable of putting up international standard opening and closing ceremonies.

Watching glimpse of the opening ceremony in the telly, I literally had tears in my eyes and a strange sensation ran through my body when Monalisa Barua Mehta (Mithoo ba, as she is know to the family) held the torch. Now, she is one contribution Deuta had made single-handedly to the state and to the country. Those few minutes felt as if I was living every moment through her. Just like a lucid dream going back to yesterdays, where every now and again, Deuta used to carry me with him to Kanaklata Stadium where I was fed strawberry milkshakes out of see-through plastic cans and got pampered like a living doll by his colleagues and players…the summer training camps, the boiled eggs and stale toasts for breakfast in that dilapidated canteen behind the then RG Barua Guest House, the half-fan saloon where most of us got the same crew cut (be it men or women) the national and international coaches for table tennis and above all, the bubbling charged up atmosphere to play and win for the state. Stories Deuta used to fill us about his collaborations with his friend and mentor R G Barua, his experience in Seoul and Los Angels Olympics where Maa also accompanied him and she literally had to open the twist of her saador to show some inquisitive crowd as to how it is worn, the souvenirs that still stand in our living room as memories of those bygone years. Last week, I silently observed Deuta open his wardrobe and brush his old blazer that said Phani Sharma- Vice President (Indian Olympic Association). Being an excellent table tennis player during his youth (his peers still talk about his forehand) I can only wonder the emotions he must have been through during the past two weeks. Strangely, he never pushed us to play any game but gave us the atmosphere and perhaps he takes solace in the fact that all his four children represented the state in different games.

Anyway, coming back to my filming, my last interview was with the Chief Minister and being given passes to watch the closing ceremony by the man himself I thought it might be a good idea to let my hair down after the roller coaster exciting filming experience we had. Sitting among the 30,000 odd spectators and watching a colourful presentation I could feel the buzz around me. I am sure some of them might have been victims of terror or at least have been effected by it to a certain extend at some point of time but it felt like they were impatiently waiting for a new renaissance to flush away their pain which they found in the games.

Undoubtedly, Tarun Uncle deserves all the pat on his back for providing the platform to the state but we must take a moment out to thank and appreciate the hard work put in by the people who implemented it and turned it into a success.

My sincere thanks and appreciation to the labours, contractors, builders of the brand new stadiums, to the Assam Police, Guwahati City Police- constables to IGP Mallik who himself had been a victim of terror years ago) , all IPS officers, Security Forces, Players and their parents/family for their sacrifices and dedication, Nagaland for their first participation, Organisers, Coaches, Cooks, Cleaners, School Children and Celebrities for their splendid performances, Media, Commissioner Sports and National Games (IAS Officers) Director of Sports Dhruba Hazarika, Naba Kumar Das (IAS), ACC, Pradyut Bordoloi, Hemanta Biswa Sarma and their colleagues who came together to made it happen. I sincerely apologise if I have left out anyone which I sure must have. Nevertheless, your input is valued and admirable. Last but not the least I request the players of our state to continue marvelling in their respective sports in the coming years and take advantage of the wonderful facilities they have now, which we never had years ago.

This certainly proves that if we, the people of Asom want to achieve success, we can, provided we put our mind, heart and hands together unanimously. Like many reading this piece, it too makes me proud to be part of the same soil.

Guwahati, February 3rd 2007

It rained at dusk today. The first shower we had this year. I had almost forgotten the smell of the red wet earth that I used to love as a child. I looked out of my window. The increasing sound of the drops that hit the tin rooftop next door drove me to our portico. It felt strange to re-live the moment under the silvery red sky. Birds flew away in flocks…they seemed to be in a hurry. The lightening on those far fetched hills caught my attention. Tall bamboo trees by our driveway danced to the tunes of the wind and that wet stray dog across the street?

Under the wooden shed of a small shop stood a half drenched man holding a live chicken by its legs and he stood still the whole time, as if, cursing the rain for the delay it had caused him. The chicken on the other hand looked rather confused, fluttering her wings every now and then. Cars and busses were slowing down and it was time to switch their headlights on. The rickshaw pullers with their water drenched eyes paddled harder just so to keep their momentum against the rain. A couple briskly walked pass, their handkerchiefs wrapped around their head acting as make-shift umbrellas. Distant hustling passer-bys voices echoed with the sound of the drops. My mother’s full bloomed Dahlias quenched their thirst and like my mood, loved every bit of it.

As the wind gush the curtains away, I got a glimpse of my niece in the next room, oblivion to the rain, training her sa-re-ga-ma with her brand new harmonium. For me it added music to the ambiance. The girl on the other side of the fence rushed to her backyard and haphazardly collected the clothes from the washing line, the lonely swing; water patiently dripping from the rain that has now stopped. It seemed to have washed away the dust it had collected over the winter. My heart wanted to feel, touch and dance with the rain but my whole new British attitude stopped me and sensibly reminded me of my impending commitments and that I couldn’t afford to sport a cold. Now with a slight chill in the air, I need to wrap myself up, pick that brewing cup of tea and get on with my mundane life.

Bidexot Apun Manuh (close ones abroad)

Bidexot Apun Manuh (BAM) is a popular Assamese television show that follows the lives of Assamese living abroad. Presented in a travelogue style, it interviews the Non Resident Assamese (NRA)'s in informal surroundings. Telecast over Guwahati Doordarshan Kendra(DDK) since 2001, the second series of BAM (Dwitiya) is currently telecast on DDK every Sunday at 7.30 pm (IST).
The show hosted and directed by Bobbeeta Sharma (first Miss North-East) has completed more than 150 episodes covering countries like USA, UK, Canada, Australia, Dubai, New Zealand, Singapore, Thailand, Austria, Switzerland, Germany, France, Netherlands and Norway so far.
Script:Jimoni Choudhury
Music: Manas Hazarika
Editor:Pranjal Phukan
Camera: Chinmoy Sharma, Sharad Verma, and Ravindra Badgaiyan
Producers: Chinmoy Sharma & Bobbeeta Sharma
Production House:Guwahati based "Sangita Advertising".

Watch the title song of (BAM) sung by Saju... a hit song among people of Assam.

a terrorist, an orphan, rebel and a poet - Mithinga Doimari

A friend of mine calls his Oxomor Kobi (Assam's Poet).
I am talking about Megan Kachari aka Mithingga Daimari, known to the world as the former publicity secretary of the banned militant outfit, the United Liberation Front of Asom, ULFA, who is currently serving his sentence in Guwahati jail as we read his poems.

He called himself Megan since the early 1990s when he turned a poet. A life led in deprivation and disparity in Barama, a hamlet in Nalbari district of Assam, though, had named him Jatin Das, way back, on May 17, 1967.

With many names, with many memories of his entire family being wiped off in secret killings, with many episodes of a life led in hiding, with hopes of living one day in an idyllic `janambhoomi' (motherland), Megan's poetry has that blend of guns and roses, of aches and joys, of belief and distrust, of loss and gain.

"Melodies and Guns", a book of poems edited by Indira Goswami was originally published in Assamese as "Memsahib Prithibi” written by Daimari. It reflects the mind of a man with a gun, and with a throbbing heart. His poetry catches the eye for its fearlessness and spontaneity.

The Down Stream Song

The bank, in the dawn
And far away, in the horizon
Was the glow of my rising red sun.

But where have I lost all?

Those fragile memories
Of my childhood and youth.
But how to see them, once again
Those treasures, dreamy and young?

The morning, and the noon
The afternoon, and now
It’s midnight.

Drifting…

Above me, this dark, black sky
Ahead of me, lie unknown waters
And around me, is an unknown voice.

Drifting…

In my own voice?

Manjeet Barua writes more about Magan’s poems

Mynta: a fusion between swedish ice and indian spice

MYNTA brings you a colorful mix of Indian vocal, African and Latin-American rhythms, Arabic sounds, Swedish Folkmusic and Cuban violin, together with Indian traditional instruments as tabla, kanjira, ghatam and tampura.

To listen/download their tracks like:
Song from Brahmaputra
Fuzzy
and Teabreak
click here

Sweden and India find a common place in music through the ears and imagination of the group Mynta. Founded in 1979, the group has created their own genre of music, while preserving the integrity and traditions of their root sounds. The Swedish-Indian fusionists define world music, by extracting the organic elements that runs through the vein of centuries-old musical histories.
MYNTA is led by the Indian musicians Fazal Qureshi (tabla) and Shankar Mahadevan (vocal). These virtuosos within the classic Indian musical tradition have performed all over the world with such musicians as Hariprasad Chaurasia, Shivkumar Sharma, and Zakir Hussain. Fazal is the younger brother of Zakir Hussain, who belonged to John McLaughlin's famous group Shakti, one of the earliest fusion bands in Europe.
Representing the Swedish alliance are veterans of the Swedish music scene - Santiago Jimenez (violin), Max Åhman (guitar), Ola Bothzén (percussion) and Christian Paulin (bass). Together the four musicians slant the music in the Nordic direction, inflecting a cool jazz feel into the mix.
MYNTA have come to be respected in the music world for years of making music that is honest and refreshing everytime. John Baxter of Option magazine praises the world-class performers for their expansive view of music: "Qureshi and Mikael Nilsson lay down some of the most electrifying percussion grooves I've heard in years; and in it's blinding, effortless speed, Max Åhman's guitar pays homage to John McLaughlin. Mix in Swedish hammered dulcimer, the Indian santoor and tanpura, and the North African saz and this becomes an exotic sort of orchestra. With groups like Mynta, it's clear that Scandinavia is turning out the most fascinating and enjoyable world fusion around.

Geeti Kobi

Since I was a child, I have heard his name literally being synonymous with anything creative. He was referred in the books we read, the lyrics we heard and the films.. well sadly I never got a chance to watch any but let me tell you, I feel psyched to be part of the same clan as him.

This sleek website is fanbloodytastic. Have a look. Parvati Prasad Baruva

Blood in My Valley

If you liked my 5 minute Assam video, you might like to watch the new (should I say BETA version)10 min clip.

WARNING: THIS VIDEO CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE. Please do not proceed if in doubt. Otherwise the filmmaker has kindly requested you to watch it with an open mind.

The white woman's burden

Iris Macfarlane, married to a tea planter in Assam, reflects on her growing sense of the injustice of colonialism. For her recent book, please see: http://www.alanmacfarlane.com

Language Of Tears

Assam in North East part of India has been facing two major problems - the infiltration of foreigners from neighbouring countries (especially Bangladesh) and the ongoing revolution between the banned separatist group -United Liberation Front of Assam (ULFA) and the Indian Government for the past 27 years.

Their cause- Assam has been exploited way too long hence demands an independent Assam, separate from India. In this teaser video (a documentary in the making), Sanchayita, who now lives in London makes a personal journey to her place of birth and talks to the rebels, ex-rebels and their families about their life now and during the past two decades .
( click here to watch the same film on youtube)


If you want more , watch the 10 minute clip : Blood in my valley

The World Artist- Jyoti Prasad Agarwala

Last week my mama-koka (Granny's Brother) Dr Anil Barthakur was reading a piece written by him about his meeting with Jyoti Prasad Agarwala. I was secretly jealous that he had a chance to be in close proximity with the man I admire. Was I born too late in life I questioned myself? Have I missed the boat? Do I stand a chance to get closer to him if I silently hummed Luitore Pani or Agbarit Phulile Phule Moor Sompa? You know, that is another reason why I love talking to people born years before me. They have seen, tasted, felt and lived a life I was oblivion to.

Jyoti Prasad Agarwala (1903-1953) was a playwright, songwriter, poet, writer and film maker from Assam. He is an Assamese icon, deeply revered for his creative vision and output and is referred to as the Rupkonwar of Assamese culture. In fact, he is regarded as the founder of Assamese cinema.
Today, January 17 of each year is celebrated as Silpi divas (Artists' Day) in his honor.