Titled “Upheaval in Nepal triggers anxiety in Asia’s largest red-light district Sonagachi in Kolkata,” PTI takes a sensationalist approach. This article does nothing other than perpetuating harmful stereotypes about Nepalese women.

In a moment when Nepal is experiencing such a massive revolution, PTI’s focus is disturbingly narrow.

Instead of addressing the political chaos and its long term impact on Nepal, or hardships faced by Nepalese students in India, or how it could impact Indo-Nepal relations, or thousands of other lenses, the article fixates on Sonagachi. Thus boiling down the ripple effects of a nationwide upheaval and confining it to the anxieties of sex workers in Kolkata.

The framing is not just lazy journalism; it is voyeurism exemplified. The article exploits the pains of exploited Nepalese women for cheap sensationalism.

Why, in a country of over 50 lakh Nepalese migrant workers, does PTI choose to focus on the sex work sector alone as the barometer of Nepal’s crisis? Why ignore the far more important impacts of Nepal’s political instability – like the impact on remittances? or the geopolitical tensions at the India-Nepal border etc?

By choosing to highlight Sonagachi, PTI implicitly reinforces and helps perpetuate an archaic and demeaning view of the Nepalese women in India.

This is nothing but racism and arrogance.

We didn’t see any such articles written about Bangladesh sex-workers in Sonagachi, when Bangladesh underwent a similar revolution a year ago.

Moreover, this article dehumanizes women, as it fails to address the structural exploitation that enables trafficking of women into Kolkata from across South-Asia. It fails to question the “system” that allows such a “red-light area” to exist in the first place. It fails to speak out against all the social evils surrounding force prostitution. Instead it sensationalizes a significant historical event, and relegates it to mockery.

PTI owes an apology to Nepal, its people, and the broader South Asian community for reducing a historic political movement to a salacious sideshow. This is not journalism, it’s harmful, demeaning, and serves only to perpetuate stereotypes.

Journalism deserves better.

The post PRESS TRUST OF INDIA – Shameful Racist Take on Crisis in Nepal appeared first on The Darjeeling Chronicle.

I believe in Arvind Kejriwal, I believe in ‘Our Da’.

There, I said it.

Hate me haters, but it’s the simplest of facts that there is no other politician and political party more honest than Arvind Kejriwal at the national level and AAP, and in our own Darjeeling region, no one more so than ‘Our Da’ and ‘Our Party’.

Trust me on this one. ‘Our Party’ and Chief ‘Our Da’ are against any elections to the Gorkhaland Territorial Administration (GTA). In fact, they are on the frontlines of the anti-GTA elections front.

However, if they don’t contest the elections then someone else will win. This is why, keeping aside their strongest objections to the GTA elections, they have decided to contest, so that the ‘bad people’ don’t win.

Darjeeling as such has been ruined by the ‘bad people’, you know the politicians and the contractors. But ‘Our Party’ is not a political party, there are no politicians in that party, only social workers and sacrificers. This is why ‘Our Party’ is willing to swallow the poison pill of GTA elections just so they can save us lata-sidha janta from the ‘bad people’.

Other than the Hill faction of the ruling party – which has no choice but to listen to what their bosses in Kolkata dictate, and the Morcha2 lot – which also has no choice but to listen to their bosses in Kolkata, ‘Our Party’ is the only other political party from the hills that has agreed to contest the GTA elections.

But unlike the other two parties, ‘Our Party’ is doing so, out of the goodness of their heart, and not out of greed for power or the funds.

They have said, they have agreed to contest the GTA elections, to make sure that GTA funds are utilised properly.

So what if the majority of the people from our region don’t want GTA or have anything to do with its elections. We must all thank the great sacrifice ‘Our Party’ is going to make on our behalf. In fact, I am indebted to them, for had it not been for them, those in Kolkata would fool us directly, now at least it is indirect.

I applaud the sacrifices that ‘Our Party’ is making for us. No, definitely not for themselves (how can anyone even imagine them to be anything but selfless?) but for us the lata-sidha janata.

This rare art of having one’s cake and eating it too is what makes our own Hill version of ‘Kejriwal Lite’ so smooth and slick and likeable and believable.

Thank you for existing ‘Our Da and Our Party’ We the lata-sidha janta are much obliged.

The post The Art of Having One’s Cake and Eating It Too appeared first on The Darjeeling Chronicle.

I am keeping this story short, as this compliments the short and sweet nature of our Darjeeling people… hope you all enjoy it, and if you do, please SHARE and spread some Darjeeling Cheer…

So this friend of mine who was a most impressionable and also a bit vain type of young man happened to go on a month-long basic course with the famed Himalayan Mountaineering Institute.

HMI being all professional, even their diet is so… balanced and… well… foreign khale…

After a month my friend comes back and regaled us with his adventures of HMI. All-day we were sitting around the warm Angethi ko fire in his Chula kotha…

While narrating his adventures one thing he insisted on was how balanced the diet was… how they wouldn’t have just carb in the form of dal-bhat, or how we were overdosing on too sweet a tea “besi chini bhako chyaa” is what he called the tea we’d always drink…

Right before dinner, he tells his mom that he is now used to eating dry fruits before going off to sleep… did I tell you how impressionable a young man he was?

My friend wants dry fruit hare… we all were like seriously?

His father, who was the earthy kind, had heard all his takes all day long… told him, “don’t worry, I got you covered.”

After supper, we do our dishes and clean up the kitchen…

My friend walks up to his dad and says, “dad where is the dry fruit at?”

His dad says wait, and digs into Chamal ko Baksa… we were stunned… and digs deeper and comes out with a bhadrase, turns around and tells my friend…

“Laa tero dry fruit”

God…that brought my friend crashing down from the high horse he was riding all day.

I have never forgotten that day, and I don’t let my friend forget it… every time I see a bhadrase… I have to send him a pic, with the caption “Dry Fruit”

The post Dry Fruit – A True and Typical Darjeeling Tale appeared first on The Darjeeling Chronicle.

So there we are, a beleaguered looking D’Mams and I, in that thado dokan by the terso galli. We are meeting after a long gap. He has remained vocally mute, and there I was like every other Darjeelingey, living my life on the margins, trying to get by, not make much noise, lest the cops take a note or the local Chema ko khema goons and have me arrested for a perceived slight or insult.

Since December, 2017 I have deactivated all my social media handles, I don’t exist in social media. I did that after a bunch of college kids were picked by up the cops in the middle of the night, for allegedly writing posts in support of Aftero – you know that difficult one.

“Tiger Zinda Hai” is what he had written after Aftero had surfaced in Delhi to give ANI an interview.

That very night, local cops hauled him up and he spent some time in police custody and later judicial custody, where he languished, till his aging mother begged and pleaded with Chema ko Khema goons and pledged her 7 generation long allegiance to them.

Another one was picked up, simply because who was heard talking to his friend about the eminent return of Aftero – The Tiger. His father was smarter, he went directly to the boss of the bosses down in Siliguri, instead of spending time with the local Chema ko Khema goons.

The very next day that kid was released. Not only that, though he did his graduation by distance course, tyo pani jhundera pass, that kid has also been appointed as a teacher-in-charge in our local school.

To his credit though, he flipped the very next day of his arrest, and like a tossed coin, now posts profoundly insightful posts that read something like…

“Jojo ko boli, 
 banduk ko goli, 
 Nepal ma Oli, 
 India ma Koli
 Vote koslai Bholi?
 Only, for Chema ko toil” 

or the more subtle

“Old is old, new is gold”

or even subtler

 “Aju din ho bibar 
 Jaad haina nigaar
 Titiri ko achar
 Naya soch, Naya Bichar
 What’a combo, sir ji” 

or the subtlest of all…

"Mo ta khandina coffee
 Kina linu mo riks
 I don't want Bournvita
 I only want Horlicks"

So that, there, is why I quit social media.

I also quit supporting those in power. It was my silent protest. My personal-revolt against those scary midnight knocks. My tiny rebellion in solidarity with those who had gone underground, in support of our dreams and aspirations.

All that changed though, when Aftero and Azingar – the one who gobbles everything, decided to show up in Kalkata and declare their undying love for Chema, the very same Chema one of whose khema and cops had terrorized the entire hills.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. For many days, I feverishly hoped that there was a greater plan afoot to fool Chema. Like a criminal mastermind, I had started to see conspiracy and connections everywhere.  It’s a master plan, obviously so that Aftero could return and secretly dig TMC roots? Actually, there is a secret understanding to fool Chema, I convinced myself.

I must confess, I went through all the seven stages of reconciliation. Till I arrived at a point where I have convinced myself that the Sapno ka Saudagar who equated our dreams to his, was just lying and using us for votes. I have convinced myself that, for our issues to live on, our regional parties have to live survive. In fact, I have now become a firm believer in this theory, so much so that I have re-joined social media and am today actively convincing people to vote against the Sapno ka Saudagar or his fascist, racist, communal party.

That is precisely what I was trying to do at that thado dokan by the terso galli.

“Buieee hos tado ko deuta bhanda, cheu ko bhut nai kaam lagcha” says I, “hundaina” I verbally shudder.

“Arey bhanich, kasari buddhi palayo timro?” asks D’Mams?

“No, I thought and thought and that’s how I came to realize that fascist, racist, communal party was only using us for our votes” I said

“So, who do you think will fulfill their promises”? asks D’Mams? and even before I can answer, he goes, “Chema? or one of her Khema?”

The thought of voting for that ruthless Chema who is responsible for all the terribleness that has afflicted our hills or one of her Khema, leaves me enraged. Then I think of the fascist, racist, communal party not fulfilling their promises, and I am left confused.

So I do, what I usually do in such circumstances, turn to D’Mams for his insightful insight, and ask him instead, “espali ke kaso?”

D’Maams gives me a thoughtful look and goes, “Timro sunau na?”

“Buieee hos hola tado ko deuta bhanda, cheu ko bhut nai kaam lagcha” says I, “hundaina” I verbally shudder.

He gives me his impish smile and goes, “Thikai ho… tara have we become like a wife used to living with an abusive husband?” he questions me?

Unable to understand his flow of thought, I ask him to explain and he goes, “Haina… think about it… there are many wives who get beaten up black and blue by their husbands on an almost daily basis… the whole village advises the wife to dump that piece of shit, yet they don’t leave their husbands and walk out… every once in a while when the abuse is extreme, the wife determines to leave… but finally stays back… she has her logic, she thinks of her children if they have one, she thinks of the little sense of security she gets in the familiar surroundings and hopes in the hearts of her heart that her abusive husband will change for the better… after extreme violence the husband too calms down for a few days, and tries to appease the wife with a few goodies and some words of love… but, eventually the man turns abusive again and the cycle continues…”

“Has our community become that desperate” he asks? I am thoughtful.

“I have never seen a community suffering from more Stockholm Syndrome than ours’ right from before the Independence. In early 1940s it was All India Gorkha League which protested against granting of Autonomy for our district. They protested against separation of Darjeeling District in 1946 again, and ABGL’s Damber Singh Gurung demanded that our region be merged with Assam instead. After 1986 andolan, Subash Ghising helped CPIM win the MP elections many a times under one pretext or the other – Vote Boycott, Leasehold Land, Ceded Land, No Man’s Land, Hague, Article 371 he found many issues to distract the people with. Similarly, today the Original and Duplicate are in a race to appease their masters in Kalkata despite the innumerable atrocities our people faced under Chema – we are sympathetic towards those who killed us and are expressing our desire to see tyrant become the Chief Minister again…”

“What can be more pathetic than that?” he questions

I have no answers to his hate filled rants. Hate against my set beliefs and things I have convinced myself of.

So I do what all intellectuals and activists do, I give him a label and assert that he has “turned into a fascist, racist, communal party loving Bhakt.”

“Tapai-lai chai darlagdo khale bhakti le tokeko jasto cha… tara yaad rakhnu ni Mam’s tado ko deuta bhanda chai cheu kai bhoot kaam lagcha ni…”

He smirks at my jive and goes, “Bhanich tyo mili halcha… internet jamana ma kesko cheu… kata ko tado?”

I continue to drink in thoughtful silence… while he goes for his refill.

The post Tado ko deuta bhanda… appeared first on The Darjeeling Chronicle.

I am writing this letter to share my outrage against You and Your government.

But because my parents have taught me to be nice, let me be nice first – I hope You and Your family are keeping safe and sound in your house. I also pray that may you not go a little crazy like the rest of us because we need the person-in-charge to be functioning at full capacity.

Now that the niceties are over, let me come straight to the point – HOW DARE YOU?

We were enjoying our life to the fullest, and one fine day out of the blue you announced a one-day lockdown. We took it in our stride, assuming it to be one of your crazy wild ideas like the demonetization, or that idiotic surgical strike. You then imposed 21 days of country-wide lockdown, for what? Had it not been for the fact that we have been well trained in the art of GharBhitraJanta during our Andolan days, by now you would have seen rebellion of epic proportions against your illogical decision in the streets of Darjeeling and Kalimpong already.

So what if our beloved Didi had announced statewide lockdown two days before you did, HOW DARE YOU?

No, we don’t have ventilators, what’s that even? And of course we don’t have negative pressure chamber that is generally found in a hospital treating viral diseases. We also don’t have proper hospital infrastructure, equipment or adequate testing kits. But that doesn’t mean you have any right to question our state government. As one of our beloved leader Mr. NoO’Brain said yesterday, ‘West Bengal is known all over the world for one thing and one thing only – GOOD GOVERNANCE’, so HOW DARE YOU?

We haven’t followed the lockdown strictly – because we are not chicken to be cooped in a khor– are we? We are human beings with human needs. We may survive without air or water for a month, but HOW DARE YOU challenge our right to GUFFING?

See Mr Modi jiu we are by nature a curious bunch, You may think that I am merely ranting but ask around. We are the people who came out of our homes by thousands to see what Curfew looks like when it was first imposed back in 1986. The cat may have survived curiosity, but 13 of our people were shot to death in Kalimpong for being over curious, and here you expect us to not go out and see what’s going on?? We need to GUFF. We need to see who is not following the lockdown by heading to town in droves. Why are you grudging us our inbuilt pleasure? Are you anti-Pleasure? Stay at home you say. HOW DARE YOU?

So what if a few doctors and nurses in our state contract Coronavirus due to the lack of PPE kits or adequate preventive measures? Please tell me, who died and made you the monitor? Why do you have to stick your unwanted nose in our state of affairs? We are not complaining about our state of affairs, HOW DARE YOU?

Recently, YOUR PIB only told the whole world that Kalimpong District hasn’t seen any new cases in the last 14-days. The great National mouthpieces of the party in power celebrated the news as an ‘Approval of our Chairman’s great leadership’ with a full-page spread and colour photographs to boot. So what if in other places false positives and false negatives have been rampant, and people cured have also tested positive later. HOW DARE YOU spread FAKE NEWS by sending an Inter-Ministerial Team to investigate nothing? Be honest, what will you Investigate?? Go investigate Adani, Ambani instead.

Seems like You don’t check Facebook regularly? Do you? Despite all your talks of ‘Digital India’ you seem to be oblivious to the amazingness of our politicians. I’d advise you to visit Facebook. Urgently. Especially Darjeeling related Facebook pages. You will find that our region has been SAVED ALREADY. Our beloved politicians have cured everyone by their miraculous presence. HOW DARE YOU send an Inter-Ministerial Central Team now? I suspect you are sending the Central Team to find out how our politicians have managed to heal everyone they have run their eyes over.

Be honest Modi jiu, are you sending people to steal our miraculous healers or their eyes?? Your intentions don’t seem to be good.

You travel the whole world at every opportunity You get. Tell me, did you go into quarantine Yourself?? I didn’t think so either. So HOW DARE YOU tell us to go into isolation or whatever fancy fad you are obsessed with these days?

You Sir may be the elected Prime Minister of the largest democracy on earth, but HOW DARE YOU question the infallibility of our nominated politicians??

So far we only have one known COVID death, ONLY 1 in the entire two districts that we know of, and You are sending a whole team of specialists to check on the situation in our Darjeeling and Kalimpong districts – WHY? We don’t need specialists, what we need is MONEY, FUNDS, FINANCIAL ASSISTANCE, SPECIAL ECONOMIC PACKAGE – Send those, not specialists.

By the way, until You can send us the money, DON’T YOU DARE do anything to demoralize our beloved leaders. If you send enough money though, we may consider permitting you that privilege too. You can demoralize us, You can demean us, You can discriminate against us – provided you pay the appropriate price for it.

The post HOW DARE YOU? An Open Letter to Narendra Damodardas Modi appeared first on The Darjeeling Chronicle.

Curious, I ask “ke chai Mams?”

“Offer aako cha…” says he mysteriously…

It’s been a long long time since we last met. What with the busy-ness of everyday life, I don’t get to hang out with Mams as much as I like. In fact, had it not been for this Lock Down, I perhaps wouldn’t get to meet Mams.

Corona has taken its toll, we are not at our usual hang out, that thado dokan by that terso galli… instead, Maili Didi as allowed us to meet her at home – safer that way… it’s just me, Mams and 17 others…

Surprised, I ask Maili Didi, how can you ensure safety with so many people around?

Confidently she says, “Aaa bhai timi chodi aru sabaiko guarantee mo linchu… byaan utheko dekhin, raati ghopto parinjel merai dokan ma huncha… kosai aru sanga ghul-mel chaina…I can vouch for everyone, other than you…”

Making her displeasure at me daring to question her hospitality obvious, she asks aloud… “timi po….nikkai din bhako thyo na dekheko…” She leaves the question unasked, but I can feel 18 pair of eyes burning a hole in my being…

 “Aaaa Di mo ta ghar mai chu ni… kya ta astee khutta bhachyera… hiju ta balla plaster kholeko”…I explain quickly…

I can sense all the 18 pairs loosen their grip… relaxed.

“Khutta bhacye ko thyo??” – asks Mams

“Haina madke-ko thyo… dhanteko… feri basnu na dela” says I

“Thet bhanij…esto paap kaam garne ta Neta po huncha ta…” says Mams taking a sip of his favourite tin paani.

Happy at the compliment, I give my toothy smile, and ask, “What’s your take on the Coronavirus situation in our hills Mams?”

“What coronavirus?? Its basi news in our hills” says he.

Aghast, I ask “why basi news?”

“Anta news hereko chainau??” counter asks he.

 “Herdaichu… tara” says I

“Hamro Daju le eklai goyera sabailai jaati banai sakyo Kalimpong ma… dekhenau?” he says hurriedly even before, I can finish my sentence

“Hana ke bhancha Mams? Kun daju le??” asks I

“Syntex” says he.

“Didn’t you see, after making Kalimpong Corona free, now he has gone to Siliguri to make sure Siliguri is made Corona free too?” he adds.

“But what about Darjeeling?” asks I

“Aaaaaa yaan ta Jojo le astee Zero Corona banai sakeko cha” responds him.

“Jojo?” I ask

“Plywood” says he.

Cryptic, short, sweet, intensely insightful… D Mams is unmatchable when in a flow.

“Aaaa anta tyo ‘Mero Pani Gorkha kai Khun’ chai kata gayecha?” I wonder aloud?

“He is Delhi-based” says Mams.

“So?” I question

“So what? Like all Delhi-based halla-gadi haru, he is busy going Facebook Live these days” says Mams…

“Astee ta tyo Aftero lai pani dekheko thye Facebook ma…jangal ma mangal besi bhayera hola gorey bhayecha tyo ta … tara boli sunda beura chai sudhreko chaina jasto cha tesko” adds he.

“What about MLAs?” asks I

 “Ghateko cha” says he.

“Who them?” asks I

“Appa Kasam” says he

“Ghateko?” asks I…

“Yeah, tesko halla ghateko cha…. Nirmaya le mohani lagako jasto cha tyeslai…” says Mams

“Others?” ask I

“Bhardai cha…” says he

“What?” asks I

“Tinarko paapko ghada” says Mams

See what I told you about Mams, he has always been the sweetest, full of compliments when it comes to people he loves. He loves politics, so politicians are his first love.

Trying to draw his attention to the needs of the people, I talk about the difficulty our people are facing, especially in many cities across India.

On a somber note he explained, “I feel for the students and patients who are stuck in distant cities, many of them are stuck in an ameelo jaga, their family members unable to send them money, away from home, pressure from landlords to pay their rental… saro pari rako hola unar lai…” says he…

“What about those who are daily wage earners from our region, who are stuck in distant cities?” asks I.

“Maile jaa bhaneko thye tinar lai??’ snaps him

Shocked, to hear him say this, “Ambo kasto khale manche tapai… don’t you feel sympathetic for them… kasto nirdayi??” I retort.

“Apuieee tyesto dialogue malai chai nadeu bhanich… look at me, I drive people around, my salary is Rs 8000 per month… time time ma tel chordai… bhara alik lukaudai ghar kai bhat khaanu pugi rako cha… our people go to distant cities to work as daily wage labourers I wonder why?? Testai dukkha garne ho bhane ta they will earn much more here in our hills itself… why go so far??” he responds angrily.

“You do the Maths bhanich… we pay Rs 50 for a haircut, even on an off day, at least 20 people cut their hair in a saloon, that’s Rs 1000 per day… Rs 30,000 per month… kharcha katey pani Rs 10,000 per month ta bach cha… tyo pani ghar kai bhat khayera… Whereas even if you work as a salesman in a city, you will earn anywhere from Rs 10000 to Rs 25000 out of which your rent, food, travel will take up bulk of your earnings… afnai ghar ma ta rent tirnu parena… rent mai basne haru lai pani ta dui dui jaga tirnu pardaina... there’s absolutely no chance for saving… but how many local Hajam do you see? How many local trained carpenters, electricians, masons, mechanics do you see?? aajkal driver ta dhibri baalera khojda pani paudaina” he adds further.

“Hamro manche haru arka ko jutho bhada molnu chai Sahar pugcha… tara afnai thau ma kapal katnu siknu chai lajau cha… I have zero sympathy for daily wage earners stuck in bigger city…” says he. “Maya ta lagcha, tara hamro manche haru ko buddhi na pugeko dekhda maya morera jancha” he adds.

“But still, we need to help them in their times of need…” says I

“Tyai ta bhaneko…offer aako cha harey” says he

“Kesko?” says I

“Rajdhani tira basne hamro manche haru lai bhat khaune… bis-hazar (20000) jana samma lai khaunue offer cha harey… mathi bata” say she.

“That’s wonderful, of course they should take it up…” says I

“Shhhhh tara halla nagarana…Hamro haru le tala ko lai pani sodheko cha harey… katiko counter offer dinchau? bhanera…”

Shocked, I ask, “hana manche lai pareko bela ma saghaune pani offer huncha?”

“Hundaina, tara hamro haru le banako raicha…” says he

“Whatttt?” I ask

He explains, “There are too many do-gooders these days, majority of them are honest and sincere, so they will collect donations and distribute it where needed. Professional do-gooders on the other hand, use such donation opportunities to bolster up their own image among the downtrodden, and in some cases also their financial prospects…”

“17ko Gorkhaland andolan pachi koi koi achanak dhani bhako katha ta sunekai hola??” he adds.

“There are many compulsive professional do-gooders in bigger cities bhanich… They have to maintain some dignity of their position on Facebook and other social media platforms… they cannot just accept any random offer… they need to see who’s offering the most… after all offers lead to positions, positions lead to denominations… denominations lead to donations… donations lead to do-gooding… it’s a complete circle” he educates.

“Kati manche ta fokate paudai cha bhanera thapeko thapekai garne pani cha harey… katti chai feri pakako khandina, sukkha ration nai dey bhandai cha harey… kati chai sukkha ration chahindaina, paisai dey bhandai cha harey… kati chai donation dine bhanda chittikai bhayera thapdai cha harey… kunni ko ko ta astee ration ko lagi afu-aafai boxing pani khelyo harey” he confides…

Chastised, I shake my head and stand up to leave…

He holds me down and says, “Don’t be disheartened Bhanich… someday, you too may get an offer you can’t refuse…”

I smile at the God Father reference, he knows how to cheer me up…

Instead of leaving, I turn around and call out… “Maili Didi D Mams lai ek bottle, malai ek tongba…”

“Malai pani tongba nai deu Maili…” says he… “aru le hamro gareeb ko naam ma khun chuseko jasto mo pani chusi dinu paryo aju…” he adds ruefully.

Everyone in the room erupts out laughing…

Lockdown is going great today…

This video is for representative purpose only. Not related to the article directly, just shared to highlight – Not all need donations. Use your charitable heart wisely.

The post Offer Aako Cha Harey… appeared first on The Darjeeling Chronicle.

D Maams is weird that way; he will talk to you about everything under the sun, like literally everything, and bring it down to a relatable topic, which will make things crystal clear.

Like that one time, a TV news anchor was announcing “scientists have finally created metallic hydrogen by applying almost five million atmospheres of pressure to liquid hydrogen. In its metallic state, hydrogen could act as a genuine superconductor and could revolutionize everything from energy storage to rocketry…” and he goes, “But what happens when they take away the pressure? Its unnatural for such pressure to be sustained forever, so their superconductivity cannot be mass replicated and its unsustainable… it’s like Bengal government imposing unsustainable pressure on our people, Newton’s third law postulates, every action has equal and opposite reaction, so Mamata will have to face public ire, our region will explode out in rebellion.”

Boom, just like that.

That’s why, I wasn’t least surprised when he referred to Harry Potter. He may be Fifty ko, but his heart is still Fifteen kai.

“But what brought about this revelation?” asked I

“Haina, she is definitely a Slytherin” says he.

“Who She?” asks I?

“She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named” he responds

Confused, “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named”, you mean? I ask

“Haina, She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – The loveless” says he

Ahhhh.. he was talking about Nirmaya – the Loveless. See how smoothly D Maams did it, from Lord Voldemort  to Nirmaya, a smooth transition.

“Wow, that’s an incredible insight…” I said.

“Indeed it is, I have been thinking about it for a while… and only the other day, my suspicions got confirmed, she wants pure bloods, only pure bloods to live in HER state… anyone who is not like her, who doesn’t cater to her line of thought, who is impure and unworthy of living in a pure state ruled by her” he adds.

“What confirmed it?” Asks I

“Didn’t you see? She wants everyone living in her state to speak the language she speaks... else they don’t have a right to live in her state… she is phenomenal” he adds.

“She is mad that’s what she is, and a fascist… she is today what Hitler was back in 1939s and what Voldemort was in Harry Potter… a reckless politician raking up ultra-nationalism among her people, so that she can crush all voices of dissent” countered I.

“Voices of dissent? What voices? Which dissent? By whom?” says he

Pissed off, I yell “Areyyy maams, don’t act like you don’t know… She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named started by trying to impose her language on us…and shot dead our youths for protesting against her linguistic imperialism remember?”

“You mean, the Terrorists, who were supported by Maoists in Nepal, and were hands-in-gloves with militants in North East?” them? Us?

Perturbed I was, “yes us, she labelled us terrorists…”

“So”? says he nonchalantly

“Aren’t you pissed off?” asks I

“Why would I be…? we are not the only ones she has called terrorists… she labelled the agitating doctors terrorists and outsiders… she called a student who dared to ask her a question on rape – a Maoist, she says anyone chanting Jai Shri Ram is an RSS outsider… I am actually totally honoured to be in this August company of people, whom she sees as outsider, terrorists, Maoists… and to be honest, that’s what we – the Gorkhas are, outsiders… we don’t belong in the land of the Pure bloods… we are outsiders and so is our land… which is why we need a state of our own, where we the impure can thrive and prosper. Had Germany and Japan not been resisted and stopped, had they not been tamed by force, they would have continued to massacre millions of people… fascists all over the world from Hitler to Stalin to Mao to Mussolini to Pol Pot to Jyoti Basu to She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named all have one thing in common, they all believe in the superiority of their race, language, literature, culture, society over everyone else’s, and we the simple hill folks definitely don’t belong in a state run by such despots and their supporters… Just like how the world got united to help the Jews establish their own country, our nation India should get together to help us build a state of our own, so that we can thrive and prosper away from these slytherin lot, who never consider others as being equal to them… our nation needs to see, we will never be treated as an equal in such a pure-blooded state… we are not from their state, and we DO NOT want to live in their state… they can keep their language, their culture or lack of it, their unoyon and their abhodrota… we simple hill folks will find ways to survive without any of it… we need to be free… free of this madness…” ranted he in one go.

There was silence for a while, and the whole shop exploded in applause… this was the second time Maams was getting a standing ovation from all of us…

Ironically, as time passed both Hitler and Voldemort eventually turned out to be HALF-BLOODS. Hitler had Jewish and African ancestors, and Voldemort who hated the half-bloods, was himself a muggle born.

Meanwhile, we the impure are indeed very happy, not learning their language and not living in their state. We the terrorists are happy, not terrorizing them good people. We the Maoists are happy, not living under a fascist despot.

If any of these desires of ours resonate with you… shout out proudly… “we are outsider… we don’t want to become your insiders… give us our state and set us free”… till it reaches She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The post She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Pure Bloods appeared first on The Darjeeling Chronicle.

Narayan Das बाट तातो च्या खाएर एक्लै निस्केको मो।

चोक बजार Bata को अघाडी देखि Orient को उक्कालो हिँड्दै Orient देखि New Dish को तेर्सो हुँदै Post Office को उकालो लागेर सिधै Benis Cafe मा पुग्दा

“पंकज 3 कप च्या देउ न हौ!”

Benis Cafe बाटो ठाडो उकालो लागेर Club Side हुँदै
Das Studio को तेर्सोमा रमिता हेर्दै Chowrasta अनि
Chowrasta देखि Mall Road
Mall Road ओरी-पोरी घुर्रा जस्तो फिन् फिन् घुम्दै
फेरी Chowrasta मा आइ पुग्दा

“Mantu को बाउ… 5 कप च्या ल…. तातो है!”

Chowrasta देखि New Elgin हुँदै झरेर
Griha Laximi को छेउमा एकछिन् Toilet break ली कन,फेरी त्योई ओरालो…

कोई बेला चै Short Cut Chowrasta Studio हुँदै
साई रत्न School को ठाडो ओरालो Society Hotel को अघाडी ठिक्कै अाई पुग्दा

“सलिम 6 कप च्या ल…!”

DCM को ओरालो फेरि… National Stores र Shyam Brothers हुँदै
न्यु सुपर मार्केट तेर्सो, फेरि चोक बजारमा
“Narayan Das ल एक छिन्…!”

“भाई 8 कप च्या ले त छिट्टो… सफा ग्लासमा दे है फेरि!”

च्या खाँदै गर्दा अचानक एक जनाले
“भोक लाग्यो हौ… न खानु केहि पनि?”
“के खाने?”
“जाडो छ आजु… खै मोमो खानु पर्छ होला”
“निस्की ब्रो…”

“काँ खाने?”

“बिच गल्ली…”
“जुम”
“जुम”

“दिदी 10 double सब्जीको ल… Soup चै तातो होस् ल!”

“ल ब्रो घर गाको ल… भोलि भेटुम न….”
“काँ औंनु?”
“Bata अगाडी भेट न…”

Many many days of such awesome nothingness.
Today I remembered, when I passed this चौतारी
The college days… the friendships are long lost and forgotten…
But the चौतारी is still the same… still waiting.

Amber Gurung must have felt the same when he wrote…

“यात्रा त्यहि बाटो त्यहि
त्यहि बाटो कुन यात्री होला भोली?”
…………………………………………………….

दार्जिलिङे केटौली युवाहरूको जीन्दगी। दैनिक जीवन जिउने बहाना। नित्य एउटै बाटो। एउटै गल्ली। एउटै चोक। त्यही परिचित मुहारहरूसंग जम्का भेट हुने ठाँउहरू। शायद पिढी दर पिढी युवाहरूको जीवनचर्या यस्तै हो कि?

हो यस्तै नै हो हाम्रो सानो पहाड, सानो शहर तर हाम्रो ठुलो संसार जहाँ सानो थोकमा रमाउने हामी। स-सानो थोकमा ठुलो खुशी बटुल्ने हामी दार्जिलिङे।

P.S: Dedicated to all the Darjeelingey’s like me… who spent their life time walking from Bata to Chowrasta and back… with their friends.. girl friends and beloveds.

[Awesome pic by: Sailesh Sharma]

The post फेरी त्यो चौतारी – एक भावना appeared first on The Darjeeling Chronicle.

Around 10 in the morning that day after having taken a nice warm bath – I guess only those who are from the Darjeeling region will understand the connection between Sunday and taking bath – I was sitting outside to dry myself. Back then no one in our neighbourhood took shower, as we didn’t have showers… lucky few would have geysers or electrical immersions to warm their water, but most of us would have to rely on ‘daura ko ago ma, pujari tel ko tin ma tata ko panee‘ for our once in a week ritual, we still do. So here I was having washed and dried, soaking the sun, rameeta herdai – much like ‘Shit Happens,’ in Darjeeling “Life Happens” and to watch it happening is called rameeta hernu… so there I was, rameeta herdai…

The advantage of living right next to a road is that there is always something or the other going on. Even if there was nothing going on we would keep ourselves busy by playing a game called “Gadee Gan-ney,” in which we would literally count the number of vehicles that would cross our place.

Believe it or not, we would even compete against each other in counting the number of vehicles that passed.

This is how the game was played – you would have to choose a type of a vehicle and someone else would choose another type and we’d compete on what type of vehicle crossed our house more than the rest. So say if someone picked an ambassador, someone else would choose a land rover, and someone else would choose a bus and so on. Back then there were much fewer vehicles on the road than today, but despite that we would passionately play the game. Imagine how idyllic life must have been in the outskirts of Darjeeling town.

The game was competitive because from the word go to whenever Ama called someone to do some chore/work, we would count the number of vehicles that passed our house. Till the moment Ama started to yell out our name on the top of her voice, whoever’s chosen make of vehicle had passed our house the least would be the one to answer Ama’s call for “bring this” or “do that”. Sort of like spinning the bottle, just that ours took much longer and was much more boring than that.

Anyway, so here I was soaking up the sun on our baranda (that’s how we in Darjeeling pronounce veranda) enjoying rameeta and playing “Gadee Gan-ney” with my brothers and friends, I think my choice was Truck. There were too few trucks to begin with, and at 10 A.M even fewer plying on the road so unfortunately when Ama’s call came it was my turn to answer it, in my defense ambassador, land rover and bus had already been taken.

You know how Ama haru are… they won’t come to you and say ‘do this’ or ‘do that’, they will either be too busy doing stuffs, or don’t want to move from the place where they are at… so they will use their God given right to yell and summon you in their presence… if any of your Ama were like mine, you will understand this…

Ama would be like: “Krishnaaaaaaaaaaaa….”

and I would be: “Hajuuurrrrrrr…”

Ama: “Yaaaaa aaijaa bhaneko suni nas?”

Me after going in front of her, cheekily: “Kaa aija bhan nu bha? Krishnaaaaaa po bhan nu bha ta”

Ama taking off her Bata ko chappal: “Nikkai mukh chalaune po bhako cha ta yo aaj kaal…? Thik parnu na paros hai…”

Me sobered down: “Haina hau… k bhan nu bhako bhaneko hau?”

For a kid, Sunday’s were dreadful… first we had to take a bath – can you imagine the horror of having to do that every week, living in a cold place like Darjeeling? As if that was not bad enough, we had to rush to line up in order to put the ration or kerosene ko card in ‘turn ma,’ and after a while, go and help Ama or whoever was doing the shopping to bring stuffs home.

I don’t know how the ladies did it back then? May be it was instinct… but honestly, Ama would be like… “Jaa ta ration thapi sakyo hola… liyera aaija ta”…. off we’d go and indeed Didi would be waiting with the ration ready to go. I still don’t get it… forget cell phone, we didn’t even have land line back then… how did they do it?

So I was like: “hajur kina bolaunu bhako?”

In our house (for which I am now thankful) there was no “Kina bolako?” business… Ama and Bata ko chappal ensured that we used appropriate amount of respect at all occasions.

Ama goes: “Jaa ta ration thapi sakyo hola… Didi lai sagai dey ta…” BINGO!! See what I told you…

It’s funny how Ama would be like, go help out your sister “Didi lai sagai dey ta…” and Didi took it to mean, “here Choree… your slave for the day” and she’d make us do all the leg work, while she checked out new shoes or clothes or whatever caught her fancy..

She would be like: “mo yaa basdai garchu kee.. jaa taa Baba ko khaini, Badee ko paan, Kaka ko shirt, Daju ko khata, Baini lai lamo pyaket ko churan mithai, Ama ko dabai, Adhee kilo khassi… ra Duita Suparee liyera aijaa taa….”

and I’d be: “Jandina mo ta… aafai janos na…”

she’d be: “Ghar ta pugnu dey… Ama lai bhanera tero hyer na…”

A bit worried, I’d try and bargain: “Gur (jaggery) kini dinu huncha?”

Unimpressed, she’d be: “Paila liyera aija na… anta bhanchu”

Godddddd she knew how to keep me in check… so finally I would relent and after walking about ten paces, I would hear her go… “Masu chai fila ko haldey bhanai…”

In those days, I used to envy Sita… I had heard that the earth had swallowed her… that’s the trick I wanted to learn… (Didi if you are reading this, please know that I love you and miss you a lot)

So off I went towards bazaar to pick up the ration.

One of the best things about growing up in a small town and an even smaller suburb is that we all suffer from a rare disease called ‘Jodi Bandhnu’ – That is a rare condition where an individual is incapable of going anywhere without her/his friend (preferably friends) in tow. So luckily for me my best friend tagged along.

We reached the ration shop, and Didi was almost done paying for the ration – Man, the timing… I tell you.

If any one of you have ever gone to a ration shop on a Sunday, you will know how crowded it gets… so we were enjoying the sights and sounds and after Didi paid for the ration, we lifted up the two super heavy net ko bags (does anyone remember those halka jaali-jaali bhako net ko bag?).

There is a trick to lifting heavy bags, you shouldn’t carry it on your arms, instead you should lift it up to your shoulders and use your other hand to hold on to the bag ko bokney part, that way you are not carrying the bag, you shoulder is.

So my friend and I lifted the bags and put it on our shoulders and started walking back towards our home… we had just crossed bazaar and were walking, when initially we noticed a few people run towards the direction of our house… then in about 30 seconds it was almost like pandemonium … everyone and their grandmother started to run everywhere, and we could hear them shouting, yelling and screaming…

“CRP”

In the babble we could not make out much, but we were panicked… Didi asked someone what happened? This person didn’t even bother to stop – jerk… and yelled out the three most dreaded words in those days… “CRP”

Poor Didi she was only 3 years older than me, so she must have been 14… she was as clueless as we were… but all of us knew, CRP meant bad news… so we started running towards our home as well.

Now when I think about it, I find it comical, but also equally telling of how simple and dumb we were… all three of us – my friend, I and Didi were running with heavy bags in each of our hands. It never entered our head that we could leave the bags and run to save our lives. For us the bags and its contents were very precious, because at the end of the day they were our responsibility… and we couldn’t leave them behind.

So here we were three kids… with sacks full of ration ko chamal, chini, gau and additional Sunday shopping stuffs… running for our lives (or so we felt)…

Children and the sound

That is when we heard a loud sound and its echo… we knew it was the sound of firing

My life experiences some happy, some sad, some sober and some downright mad, had by that point taught me to recognize the difference between the sound of a gun fire vs. the sound of the firecrackers going off.

Where we live used to be very near an army firing range, it was close enough for us to be able to hear each and every bullet being fired, sometimes all day long. It’s funny how when you are a kid, you are always wondering about stuffs that no adult would even imagine was possible to wonder about.

Once I found my younger brother upside down, with his feet on the wall, and his hands balancing his body on the ground – these days yoga people do that – and was saying “chito jaa.. chito jaa.” He must have been around 10.

So I asked him: “K bhayo? K gareko? What are you doing?”

Him: “Sending the medicine to my head…”

I: “What? Duhhh!! who told you doing that will send the medicine to your head?”

Him:”Ama le bhan nu bhako” (remember no ‘ama le bhaneko’ business in our house)

Exasperated, I left him like that, and went to the kicthen yelling, “Ama… Ama…”

Ama: “Ama bhan dai gar hai… Ama bhan nu birselas nee”
So I asked her: “Kancha le k gareko tyesto?” what was my younger brother doing?

Ama: “K garyo? What did he do now?”

I: “Ulta bhai rako chaa… he is trying to send medicine to his head harye, and says you told him so”??

Ama: “Dui laat dey ta tellai… give him two kicks”

Glad, I went got my brother down from his position and gave him dui playful laat and brought him to the kitchen…

On seeing him Ama goes: “Kina ulta bhako thyees? why were you upside down?”

Him: “you said medication travels fast… to head that way”

Ama: “When did I say that?”

Him: “Asteeeee nai bhaneko chai? Bhullinu bha? Long time back did you forget?”

Ama: “Bhagwaannnnn yo janminda ta boksee panee kaa gako thyo holau? Gooddd where was the witch when you were born?”

Him: “Pani bharnu – to fetch water?”

When I look back to that day, I find it so funny, it was perhaps the weirdest conversation ever. To those who do not know, the allusion to the ‘boksi – witch going to fill the water while someone was being born’ is a sarcastic way of telling them, you would not be having this conversation with me right now…had the boksi not gone to fetch the water… she would have taken care of you for good
……………………………………………………
So on further digging this is what I found was the reason behind my brother hanging upside down willing the medicine to travel to his head faster. This version was narrated by my sister, who said she was present that day…

“Kancha after taking his medication for headache had some time ago asked mom…

Him: “Ama does this Dabai enter our head?”
Ama smiled, pointed at his tummy and said: “no no, it goes to our tummy”
He looked baffled and asked: “When we have a headache, we take a medication that goes into our tummy… so when we have a tummy ache does our medication go to our head?”
Ama smiled a little, and replied: “Jancha ta….”
and my brother wondered: “Tyeso bha if someone stood upside down, would the medicine can travel faster?”
I don’t think Ama was paying any attention by then and said: “Jancha ta…”
………………………………………………………..

Apparently that Ama-Chora conversation had happened some 6 months ago, and hence my brother hanging upside down raicha…

Children ask weird curious stuffs like that you know… and when they do please don’t give them utpatang answers, sometimes they take it literally… but the point I was really trying to make was that children wonder about things that adults cannot even was possible to wonder about.

Living near a firing range, I always wondered why those guns fired in the Army range would fire with a more base like sound, a loud, but dull thud more like “Dhhuu, Dhhuu, Dhhuu, Dhhuu followed by a faint k” ek chin pachee nai… so it would literally make a sound that sounded like “DHHUUUuuu…..k” “DHHUUUuuu…..k”

“DHHUUUuuu…..k” instead of those cool gun sounds we heard on the movies, “Dhikkkk-Chyaauuunnnnn…. Dhikkkk-chyaaauuunnnn”

So growing up hearing the sound of a real gun being fired at least for 10 days every month, it was easy to tell that what we just heard was the sound of a gun being fired.

A history of naughtiness

There is another solid reason behind why we – my best friend and I that is and not Didi – knew that it wasn’t the sound of a firecracker going off, because we knew what firecrackers sound like. When I say we knew, I am speaking of the vast experience we had gained in bursting crackers in

Some of you will know what I am talking about, we would light a type of cracker which we used to call Chaklet Bomb -Syanu ma in Darjeeling no one said Chocolate, but Chaklet – and cover it with a rang ko tin, when the cracker went off, it would make an awesome sound, and at the same time the tin would make a short trip to heaven and fall back. We used to find it awesome!! So we would experiment bursting crackers in/on different things and places to see what it sounded like.

So one day during Diwali (the previous year, we were 10 years old) we had finished playing deusi for the day and were coming back home, we came via bazaar and bought ourselves ek ek khili paan – do kids do that these days? Buy paan from the money collected by playing deusi and chew it to feel all grown up? – and ek ek packet jugmag (that was the brand of chaklet bomb that was most famous).

On our way we had to pass a public toilet, this toilet had a neat row of small ventilations that opened up towards the main road, as we were passing it, my best friend and I looked at each other and it was apparent we were both thinking the same thing. So we went as close to the toilet as possible, lighted the Choklet bomb and threw it in the toilet through one of the vents. We waited for a bit, and nothing happened… so we assumed that the cracker had been a waste, as it didn’t burst… I thought that it must have dropped into liquids and must have snuffed out, my friend thought it had dropped into solids… but whatever the case the cracker didn’t go off… but as we started to turn to walk away, we saw this bright glow and this distinct glow of an ember… we knew someone was inside, letting out the nastiness and smoking the cigarette… in a way my friend and I were relieved that the cracker didn’t go off… we were like transfixed in away, and still staring at the toilet, thanking whatever powers that be…and that is when it happened…

An UUUJJJYYYYAAALOOOOO flash of light, followed by earthshattering BBBOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM

Both of us were like.. “Oh! My God…”

And then we heard this ANGRIEST VOICE EVER… go…

“AAAYYYEEEEEEEE Ja*** Sala… Tero Ama ko…. ***!! Pant ta launu dey *** Tollai ta nee mo ***!!…. Kassam bhaneko kee…. ****!!!”

We didn’t wait to find out how long it would take him to put on his pants after reeling from the shock and awe…

We were probably home, before this dude could put on his pants…

Not Chaklet bomb

So my friend and I instantly knew that it wasn’t the Chaklet bomb that had just gone off on that fateful Sunday… and all three of us started to run… then we heard another firing… we ran faster… and another…

By the 2nd sound of firing we had taken the turn to our home, and we saw Ama and other villagers were running towards us… as soon as they saw us they ran faster, once they reached us, they grabbed us and literally carried us along with our ration ko saman and took us home safely.

Our house is set up in such a way that when we look towards bazaar, we can see a huge section of houses that are right by the main road, as the road curves and we can literally see many verandas from our kitchen.

Ama, Badee and others were already crying, and us children were in a state of shock perhaps, but even in our shock and trauma we were all a curious lot, looking out from our kitchen window to the houses that were closer to the bazaar, and what was unfolding there was mayhem.

Darjeeling Andolan – everyday violence

The CRPF were all over the place, and they had started to break down doors and windows of almost all the houses that were facing the main road.

Much later we found out that someone had wrongfully tipped CRPF that the Gorkha Volunteer Cell (GVC) cadres were piling up arms and weapons by the droves in that neighbourhood, so they had come out in a large contingent, and as soon as they landed they had gone into houses and started to beat people up. As they started to throw out all their stuffs outside, some people began to resist and a group of men who were in the Samaj Ghar, which was above the main road – alik mathee patee – saw this and had started to pelt stones at the CRPF.

This apparently infuriated the CRP further, and they had fired 3 rounds in the air to disperse the crowd.

That is why I do not like Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) which Irom Sharmila had been fighting against for over 16 years. This Act had given the security forces total immunity against law, and they could do anything and everything and justify it as being doing it for their personal safety and security. They could enter those houses, fired those rounds, even kill someone without having to get permission or give an explanation on what they did so.

The mayhem went unabated for over 2 hours. Many people who were perhaps just sitting at their house were brutally beaten up. Later we found out that there was this 18 year old daju, who was chopping meat in his house, he had a khukuri in his hands when the CRP entered. Thankfully the CRP for some reason did not shoot him, but he got arrested on the charges of “possession of weapons” and was so brutally beaten that I still shudder when I think about it.

You know how surreal it is to see someone being beaten up in a distance, you can make out the shape and the form, but you cannot tell who that person is… after beating him to an inch of his life, the CRP put him in their van and took him to what was then called “Thulo Ghar” – Bhanu Bhawan

He was not alone who got arrested, the CRPF must have arrested over 50 people that day, both male and female, anyone who resisted got arrested, anyone CRPF thought were resisting got arrested, anyone who was passing by, even they got arrested.

All said and done, that day the CRPF must have completely destroyed at least 20 houses, and thrown out stuffs from over 50. All they could find in the name of the weapons were Khukuri. They did not even find a single bullet, forget the “massive cache of guns” they had come to seek out.

There was no GVC in the area. Never had been.

Darjeeling Andolan – PTSD

Homes destroyed, people beaten to pulp, children running for their lives… these are painful memories, but I refused to be bogged down by them. I find solace in humor, and making light of things, but I have lived a nightmare and it took me over 20 years to feel normal again.

After that day, my friend and I had never burst anymore fire crackers…

In fact we used to be terrified of the sound of crackers. My best friend still is, I thankfully got over that when I burst a choklate bomb when he got married. He now has a kid a handsome son, but his son is not allowed to play with fire-crackers even to this day.

In civilized countries, we would probably be sent for psychological and psychiatric evaluations, perhaps we would be hospitalized for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), but it was Darjeeling in 1986, no one had time to mourn the dead, or solace the hurt…

People were busy trying to live for a day more, for no one knew when the next bullet would come flying with your name written all over it…

The post Bitter Sweet Andolan Memories – 1986-88 appeared first on The Darjeeling Chronicle.

It has been a while since I last wrote; life happened… as our Darjeeling ko popular saying goes… “Dog no work do, no fursad have,” same thing happened to me… I was busy bitthama… that is, till a week back when an old friend dropped by out of the blue…

Him chai America just returned, me chai Darjeeling never left.

We had lots of catching up to do… in the process of catching up, we talked about growing up days and how things used to be, he wanted to know why I am not on WhatsApp, and I wanted to know what that is? He talked about SnapChat, and I am still trying to get over the hangover of Yahoo Chat…

So, I dedicate this write-up to my technologically advanced friend… who at the end of the week went with my bau ko Tongba ko Dhungro, and left me his Tab… I am unable to figure out the tab properly… so my bhatij who is 8 years old is helping me learn how to use it…

This write-up is about technology, and how that has changed over the years… and even though this is specifically meant for the Darjeeling region, people in other places could also have gone through the same phases.

Radio Days

My earliest recollection of technology is a radio that was mounted on our kitchen wall. It was a small radio, just needed one nail to hold it in place. We had a bigger radio in our sitting-room, still, do, that’s bulky. Mom used to tell us how technology had changed from gramophone to bulky radio, to what was hanging in our kitchen a smaller version.

Sadly from my radio days, I cannot recollect much, I was much too young then… but I remember two programs from All India Radio (Akashwani Kharsang) which were my favourites. The 1st one, I guess was called “Sainik Sandesh,” in which those serving in the Army could relay their messages to their families directly. It was fun to listen to them… a typical message would go…

“नमस्ते मा राईफलमेन 077232645 सुधन लिम्बु 1/11 Gorkha Rifles बाट बोल्दै छु… यदि मेरो घर-छिमेक सैलुंग धुरा, दबैपानीको कसैले यो संदेश सुन्नु हुँदैछ भने दया गरेर मेरो घर-परिवारलाई सुनाई दिनु होला… आमा र बाबालाई सेवा ढोग, र सुन्तली लाई धेरै माया भनि दिनु होला.. तल्लो घर को रामे को गाई ले बाछा ब्याउनु अटेको थियो अब त ब्याई सक्यो होला… दुध चै पानी नाफीटि हाम्रो मा पुर्याई दिनु भनि दिनु होला… आले टार को अन्तरे पनी खस्यो हरे… खबर सुनेर सारै दुखः लग्यो… त्येसको काम मा आउनु सकिन, माफ पाउ होला… म जति कुशल नै छु र मेरो साथी भाईहरु पनि सन्चै नै छन्… धन्यवाद अनि जय हिन्द”

For those who cannot read Nepali here is the literal translation
“Namaste I am Rifleman 077232645 Sudan Limbu from 1/11 Gorkha Rifles… If anyone from my family or my village Sailung Dhura in Dabaipani is listening to this broadcast, please relay this message to my family… My Dhog to my Mom and Dad, and love to my beloved Sunthali… Ramey who lives below our house, his cow was about to give birth hope the birthing went well… please tell him to take unadulterated milk to our house… I heard that Antare from Aley Tar is no more, I felt really bad to hear that, I could not be present for his funeral, please convey my regrets to his family… I am fine and all my friends are doing well… Thank You and Jai Hind”

I was so much in love with this program, perhaps having my family members serving in the army made me particularly like this program. Sadly my family members never spoke in Sainik Sandesh.

It was so funny what all these Jawans would say… sometimes they would confess their love for someone; sometimes they would even breakup over the radio – Imagine. But at times they would share heart-breaking news too. This program hit really close to home for most families in Darjeeling whose sons were serving in the army.

The other one was a program where you could write a letter and request songs, sadly for the life of me, I am unable to remember the name of the program right now… hope you guys will help me remember it…

Funny thing about this program was that those reading the names could do so randomly. My brother swears to this day, he literally heard an announcer once say… “ra yas geet ka farmayis karta haru hunu huncha… Bambai bata… Lata Mangeshkar, Kishore Kumar, Mohammad Rafi, Asha Bhosle ani Sathi haru.” But still it was great fun to send a letter and hope to God they read your request, because if they did read your name, you were the star for the day.

I still remember vividly it was on our Kitchen radio that I heard the news of Tenzing Sherpa’s passing away.

Tape Recorder Days

Radio made room for Tape recorders. Almost every house in the village owned one, and there was am amazing pattern to the kind of songs that people would listen to.

Early mornings were time for Bhajan, mostly Anup Jalota ko, followed by some Hindi movie songs, evenings we would’ briefly listen to English songs, and at night chai Nepali songs – mostly Narayan Gopal stuffs.

Things changed when tape-recorders came into being. Blank Cassette kindai, dubbing songs was much fashionable. Hamro daju used to gift man pareko keti lai dubbed romantic songs, and when he was doing the dubbing, we were forbidden from speaking, least our voices got dubbed in the cassette.

Kids these days won’t understand the joke… which goes like this… a guy was singing facing towards the sky, he sang his hearts out for around 20 minutes, turned around, and again sang for another 20. Curious one guy who had noticed went to him and asked, why did you turn around? the singer guy is supposed to have replied – Side fereko.

After that, TV happened and the use of radio as a means of information and communication declined considerably. I have already written on the early TV days here

Walkman Days

Radio was succeeded by TV and then walkman happened. We had an older daju from our village who was rumoured to be working in Japan, back then… it was he who carried the Walkman for the first time. I must have been in class 5 or 6 late 1989-90s. It was revolutionary. We couldn’t believe music playing from such a small device, we were unused to earphones – Kut-kuti lagthyo sunda pani.

Internet

Gradually TV led to internet, and internet led to internet parlours. Computers were holy… People had to take off their shoes to enter the computer vako room. If I am not wrong, compuset was the 1st internet parlour in Darjeeling, they used to be based in a building near Hotel Shimla.

I remember not knowing how internet worked. I also remember how slow the net connection would be… Tunnnnnnnkaralhyararararararakkkkkkk that’s literally the sound it would make when a computer got connected to the internet.

A friend of mine opened my 1st email in Rediffmail, Back then we didn’t have Google or Yahoo even, we had Rediffmail and Hotmail.

You can imagine how old school it was back then, our browser used to be Internet Explorer.

Chat Rooms

Internet took off in a much bigger way only after Yahoo introduced Chat rooms. That was when the teenagers in Darjeeling realized we could connect to people all across the world. We could talk to our friends, or flirt with strangers.

Usually the chat started with M-19, Darjeeling here, ASL plz? Hoping that the other end would respond with F-18 or 19…

Me: Male – 19 here
Me: Age, Sex, Location please
Response: Male 25 
Me: Bye

Me: Male – 19 here
Me: Age, Sex, Location please
Response: Female 19
Attallyera
Me: Oh… Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii… where from?? 
And so on…

Many relationships were formed that way… some still last to this day… while most are now lost into oblivion… But I guess, I wouldn’t be wrong to say that most of us learned how to use the internet while chatting to unknown strangers over YahooChat.

Mobile Phones

The 1st time I had seen a cell phone was in 1996, when I was working in a store. I had seen this rich Delhiite use a cell-phone which resembled a walkie-talkie, and I had asked him, what it is… he looked at me and went, “you don’t know?” I said “no… is that a walkie-talkie?” He said, “no it’s a satellite phone… bahot mahenga padta hai”

Then in 2000 cell-phones came in a big way in Darjeeling. I still remember to this day, I was sitting in Narayan Das when this guy started to hang these small festoons which read “Reliance Mobile Phones – Now for only Rs 250 per month.”

I wanted it real bad…

So I went to find out more about it… It turned out Rs 250 per month was a compulsory fees + we had to buy Sim Cards for Rs 1000 + we had to buy handsets which cost additional Rs 5000 at the least…

Overall it would cost around Rs 7500 to own a cell phone… imagine

I didn’t have that much money, no college going kid carries that kind of money. So I begged, and borrowed…. Finally after around 6 to 8 months I gathered enough to attempt to buy a cell phone. My friends were headed for Siliguri, so I gave them Rs 5000 which I had saved painstakingly. Those two went down and I couldn’t sleep with anticipation.

They came back the next day with cellphone for me – Siemens C 35 – My 1st phone.

I later found out they had to fork around Rs 800 more for the set + connection, but they never asked, so I never paid them… to think of it, I haven’t paid them till date.

What joy was that phone.

Kin-nu ta kinyo tara ghar ma dekhyo vane pitcha… moreover, it was painful to keep as outgoing calls would cost Rs 6.256 per minute, incoming would cost around Rs 3.50, SMS were around Rs 1.20 and the minimum Rs 250 per month chai kin-nui parne.

Imagine for a college kid, that was a nightmare.

So after the initial euphoria, I had the handset with me… tara no calls would come or go… ringtone suni-basthey.

I think cell-phones started to take off really big time around 2002-03. Nokia 3310 was the most popular set when it entered the market and by 2004 Nokia 1100 had come which was the most HEP phone ever (for that time).

Things really took off once Nokia 6600 came, I guess that is when the concept of a Smartphone really entered Darjeeling. People proudly flaunted their 6600s till later Sony and Motorola entered the market, and made carrying Nokia look uncool.

I progressed from Siemens C 35 to C 45 and then to Nokia 6600. After that I stopped. The allure of Cell-phones had left me. I had grown up hola.

When I see the latest iPhones and Blackberries and Samsungs… all I do is shake my head and start wishing that life was much simpler back in land-line days, where one family in the whole village would have a phone, and would relay the messages to everyone else.

Technology is changing so much that its impossible to keep up. Things become obsolete in a matter of few months. Nothing is durable these days, including relationships.

So when old friends drop by and talk old stuffs, that’s when nostalgia flows…

I miss the old Darjeeling very much… the one where they didn’t have a giant TV screen in Chowrasta.

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