OBITUARY: We mourn the demise of Sir SP Parasar, our Mahashay
Yesterday night stood to be one of those unfortunate times where we crawl ourselves into the bed with an unspoken amount of grief in the…
Yesterday night stood to be one of those unfortunate times where we crawl ourselves into the bed with an unspoken amount of grief in the…
I try to lift the old and faded camouflage printed bag but it’s too heavy. Someone has brought iskus from Soureni busty and left the bag next to the door. There is no one else in the house apart from my grandmother, who is still out there trying to put the chickens in the coop. So I take an old shawl, cover the bag, and wait for the CRP raid.
In “Wai Wai” we trust – that’s the state of journalism in our hills.
In “Syria” we outrage – that’s the state of writers, poets, intelligentsia in our hills.
In “Social-media revolution” we believe – that’s the state of activism in our hills.
In “Finding political relevance” we strive for – that’s the state of academia in our hills.
In “Silence” we dwell – that’s the state of rebellion in our hills
We will vocally decry those who we believe are worthy of our self-righteous scorn, but don’t bother us to speak out against the tyrannical state and the current state of affairs.
My aunts waited for the cremation to end and sat and gossiped among themselves. They were talking about some place where women had cremated the dead, an unheard of practice, Keti haru lay garnu parcha abo. Someone also mentioned in hushed voices that in some tea garden, a woman had given birth to a dark-skinnned baby, “nikkhur kalo nani”. There was anxiety in their voices. I didn’t really understand the implication of these conversations.
Nobody knows what happened. A couple of women standing outside say that they heard the shot coming from Tingling fatak, they say they saw someone fall down. Minutes later, we hear that Nabin who was sitting on the culvert near Tinglink fatak ko hawaghar was shot, pointblank.
Our contributor Dinesh Sharma writes about the lost ‘Hill Tribes’ status that was confeered to the GOrkha community until the 1941 census.
As I was saying, threats have also changed over the years. Cha inchi – probably because we are vertically wanting and are insecure about our Gorkha height – has always worked. So why say ” Marchu” or “tauko kati dinchu”, when you can say “Natrabhanay cha inchi… ” ?
After a hard fought andolan of 4-years from 2007 to 2011, finally the Gorkhaland Territorial Administration Agreement was signed between the Center, WB Govt and GJM representatives. The invitation, specifically to GJM is clearly for the resumption of the dialogue from where the center had left it in 2011. The File Number at the top of the letter, F.NO. 12013/01/2011-SR is a dead giveaway. In probability the invitation wasn’t sent to other political parties, as they were not a part of the GTA Agreement.
Life is about celebrating small moments. A small token of appreciation is due to anyone who puts dedication and effort towards a goal and achieving it. Whether its a school topper or even a person picks up a can from the road and puts it into a dust been to keep his town clean. Appreciating few doesn’t mean demotivating others. Only morons would think that way.
During this formidable COVID19 crisis, Kalimpong, a small town in the foothills of Eastern Himalaya became an unexpected hotspot. Kalimpong’s infamous and unfortunate COVID19 victim, 49 years old Sunita Devi Singh, who had travelled from Chennai, ended up passing the infection on to 15 other individuals before she herself succumbed in a hospital in Siliguri.