MAHASWETA DEVI: FOR US, THIS RENOWNED AUTHOR, WAS ONE OF THOSE WHO KEPT THE MEMORY OF MY BROTHER ALIVE.
(FOR ME SHE WAS A WINDOW TO A NEW WORLD OF OPPRESSION AND AN UNDYING VOICE OF SUPPORT TO THE SABAR COMMUNITY)
I have been reading about Mahasweta di (that's the name we used to call her by) since last few days after she left us all, hearing about her on chat shows etc. Other than a very few close friends of mine, hardly anyone knows that me and my family were deeply involved with her Kheria Sabar Kalyan Samity and that she was a solid rock support to my mother after my mom lost her son way back in 1995. Several trips to Rajnowagarh, (a tribal hamlet in Purulia of West Bengal, from where Mahasweta di primarily carried out her activities) in those years had opened up a whole new world to me and my parents amid all the grief and loss we faced.
I shall forever remember this humble lady not as a feminist, but as a humanist, who with all her love and affection could embrace anyone. What she said to a grieving mother (my mom) was phenomenal. "Madhugiti, I have seen many mothers lose their children, but I have seen very few who have donated all the money you earned and kept for your son to educate many other children in this remote area, where most kids have never even seen a book before, let alone know what a school is all about. I have seen mothers go mad with pain, or clasp on to their surviving child, (in this case me), but I have never seen anyone who overcame grief and carry on silently supporting those who are oppressed in this society." These were her words. Needless to say, my mom became very emotional and cried profusely before her. She had tears too, she was equally emotional and always spoke from her heart and not from her head.
Now that she is no more, our thread of acquaintance with her will forever be alive amidst those vivacious children who come to the school in Garasagma (another tribal hamlet nearby), a school named after my brother Sayan. A trip to that school which is located in a pretty remote area will bring to light the condition in which humans survive. For urban people like us its truly an eye opener. Some of the children have never even heard of a comb. They don't know they can oil their hair! Their palm leaf-thatched huts often are not enough to save them from relentless rains during monsoons. They look dirty, some do not wash for days as even drinking water is scarce in this extremely dry belt with very little agriculture possible on the rocky laterite soil. Mahasweta di used to mix with these people like her own kin. She participated in their dhamsa madol (special drums used by tribals) dance beats, often bought them these instruments and also local wine to keep the lot happy in their own world. She would sit with them, enjoy their local wine and other delicacies and also participate in their festivals resembling that scene of Utpal Dutt enjoying a Santhal dance in Satyajit Ray's Agantuk. She is popularly called Sabar Ma by the people.
Gopi babu (descendant of the local zamindars) gave away his lands to Mahasweta di to set up this organisation. He is again a trendsetter. Unfortunately, Gopi babu has lost his voice and cannot speak anymore. But other relentless workers of the area like Jaladhar Sabar look after the activities. Speaking of activism, Mahasweta di was completely dedicated to these oppressed people. I still remember way back in 1998, the famous Budhan Sabar case. She called my dad and said : "Alok, you have to fight this case. And you will not be paid. They have killed the man in custody." My dad fought this case and many others later, obviously free of cost, against the atrocious legal provisions made during the British era branding tribes like Kheria and Sabars as criminals, which was never scrapped by the central government after independence. As a result police could pick up anyone belonging to these tribes, without any criminal charge and put them behind bars.
Mahasweta di had fought relentlessly to abolish this act and give these people a decent human livelihood. Every time we shall go to Purulia henceforth, we shall miss her, even that Ballygunge Station Road home where my parents often went, or her voice on the telephone even a year back saying: "Ei Alok achhe?" asking for my dad. But I shall never miss her undaunted spirit, that taught me to fight against all challenges since an early age. She will live forever among those tribal kids who can still laugh their hearts away at the sight of painting books that our children would probably not even look at.
(FOR ME SHE WAS A WINDOW TO A NEW WORLD OF OPPRESSION AND AN UNDYING VOICE OF SUPPORT TO THE SABAR COMMUNITY)
I shall forever remember this humble lady not as a feminist, but as a humanist, who with all her love and affection could embrace anyone. What she said to a grieving mother (my mom) was phenomenal. "Madhugiti, I have seen many mothers lose their children, but I have seen very few who have donated all the money you earned and kept for your son to educate many other children in this remote area, where most kids have never even seen a book before, let alone know what a school is all about. I have seen mothers go mad with pain, or clasp on to their surviving child, (in this case me), but I have never seen anyone who overcame grief and carry on silently supporting those who are oppressed in this society." These were her words. Needless to say, my mom became very emotional and cried profusely before her. She had tears too, she was equally emotional and always spoke from her heart and not from her head.
Now that she is no more, our thread of acquaintance with her will forever be alive amidst those vivacious children who come to the school in Garasagma (another tribal hamlet nearby), a school named after my brother Sayan. A trip to that school which is located in a pretty remote area will bring to light the condition in which humans survive. For urban people like us its truly an eye opener. Some of the children have never even heard of a comb. They don't know they can oil their hair! Their palm leaf-thatched huts often are not enough to save them from relentless rains during monsoons. They look dirty, some do not wash for days as even drinking water is scarce in this extremely dry belt with very little agriculture possible on the rocky laterite soil. Mahasweta di used to mix with these people like her own kin. She participated in their dhamsa madol (special drums used by tribals) dance beats, often bought them these instruments and also local wine to keep the lot happy in their own world. She would sit with them, enjoy their local wine and other delicacies and also participate in their festivals resembling that scene of Utpal Dutt enjoying a Santhal dance in Satyajit Ray's Agantuk. She is popularly called Sabar Ma by the people.
Gopi babu (descendant of the local zamindars) gave away his lands to Mahasweta di to set up this organisation. He is again a trendsetter. Unfortunately, Gopi babu has lost his voice and cannot speak anymore. But other relentless workers of the area like Jaladhar Sabar look after the activities. Speaking of activism, Mahasweta di was completely dedicated to these oppressed people. I still remember way back in 1998, the famous Budhan Sabar case. She called my dad and said : "Alok, you have to fight this case. And you will not be paid. They have killed the man in custody." My dad fought this case and many others later, obviously free of cost, against the atrocious legal provisions made during the British era branding tribes like Kheria and Sabars as criminals, which was never scrapped by the central government after independence. As a result police could pick up anyone belonging to these tribes, without any criminal charge and put them behind bars.
Mahasweta di had fought relentlessly to abolish this act and give these people a decent human livelihood. Every time we shall go to Purulia henceforth, we shall miss her, even that Ballygunge Station Road home where my parents often went, or her voice on the telephone even a year back saying: "Ei Alok achhe?" asking for my dad. But I shall never miss her undaunted spirit, that taught me to fight against all challenges since an early age. She will live forever among those tribal kids who can still laugh their hearts away at the sight of painting books that our children would probably not even look at.
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