MEANT NO MALICE, SIR


By Manas Paul

Sorry, Mr Khushwant Singh. I cannot agree with you.
Well, this could sound really, really audacious, but let me explain that when you subscribe to the idea of ‘rediscovering India’ within a limit that conspicuously excludes Northeast region where I live, I cannot but express my serious disappointment.
I am well aware of the fact that the following article criticizes an opinion expressed by none other than one of the greatest writers of our age and country. But when I find Khushwant Singh, my most favourite writer of present India (the other, of course, being Ruskin Bond), certified a visit to the ‘length and breadth of the country’ without a vast geographical, historical, cultural, and emotional entity called- North East region I had reasons to be depressed.
In his write up yesterday (March 21, 2009) titled ‘March is the loveliest month’ in ‘The Telegraph’ Khushwant Singh observed that one of his favourite writers-a Canadian citizen of Indian origin- M G Vassanji, a man who ‘wields a gifted pen’ could rediscover India- apparently without visiting North East- in a way that could make his book ‘A Place within: Rediscovering India’ ‘more absorbing reading than Jawaharlal Nehru’s Discovery India because it is, in fact, a rediscovery’.
I used the word ‘apparently’ to say that Vassanji did not visit North East region while penning down his travelogue because Singh wrote –I quote- ‘He ( Vassanji) travelled length and breadth of the country from Shimla to Kerala, from Calcutta to Gulf of Cambay, visiting historical sites, temples, mosques…”.
So ? Where the breadth, of the country ends in the eastern side of India both for M G Vassanji and Khushwant Singh?
In Calcutta.
I have not read Vassanji’s book which must be great reading indeed, but at the same time I cannot agree with Khushwant Singh also that India could be rediscovered in its true sense and spirit without visiting North East- a polyglot region where 325 languages, out of which 175 belong to Tibeto-Burman and Mon Khmer families, are spoken everyday and where as many as 213 tribal communities (out of total 635 in the country) at varied stages of social development along with almost all Indian nationalities are found.

India in its eastern flank- you all have to agree with me –does not definetly end in Calcutta or Kolkata.
“He tells us about the people of India, their history, customs and their peculiarities”, so said Khushwant Singh about M G Vassanji’s book.
Can you agree with Khushwant Singh that while talking about India’s ‘history, customs and their peculiarities’ you can really leave aside the unique tribal and non-tribal societies of the North east region and their extraordinary customs, their extraordinary way of life, religious faiths- animistic, Hindu and Christian-social systems as well as their unique history ?
While writing about India you cannot forget those great hornbill feathered warriors of Naga tribes, or one of the richest cultures of India that finds it root in the Vaishnabite way of Manipuri life, or the unique matriarchal as well as matrilineal societies that still exist among Khasi, Jaintia and Garo people, or the exquisite landscape, one horn Rihno of Assam or the picturesque Loktak lake of Imphal ?
You may not like to write about oft spoken North East brand of insurgencies – Nagaland being the oldest of its kind in the entire South East Asia. But when you want to rediscover India and its history you cannot certainly forget that Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose hoisted ‘Indian Flag’ in North East humiliating the British Empire, it was also in Mizoram- the land of hill people where Indian Air Force conducted air raids on its own citizens- first of its kind perhaps in the modern world history in those days during MNF’s ‘Operation Jericho’ in 1966.
It is also in this place where for eight days non state actors had kept the capital Aizwal liberated where Indian authority did not exist at all?
It is also Mizoram from where several thousand people went to Israel claiming themselves Jews -one of the Lost Tribes and took Israeli citizenship discarding their Indian identity.
Or, how come one can forget to rediscover Indian history without any reference to Arunachal Pradesh –a large part of which had fallen to the Chinese in 1962 and that the state is still a bone of contention for the Sino-Indian relations.
Vassanji talked about temples, so said Singh. Since Vassanji’s journey did not include North East he certainly did not see Kamakhya and Tripureswari temples- two of the 51 Peethastans that dot the Indian subcontinent. Or, the Tawang Monastery in Arunachal Pradesh.
None can rediscover India, forgetting that the Manikya Kings of Tripura happen to be the second oldest dynasty in the entire world after Japan Royality. Not even the mighty British Monarchs could match the Tripura kings bloodline in this regard. The Manikya rulers also happen to be the first to recognize Rabindra Nath Tagore in his teens and helped his Shantiniketan as well as many other great Indian personalities like scientist Jagadish Chandra Bose financially.
When Vassanji wrote his book Sourabhee was not there. But Singh certainly knows that ancient music masters like Jadu Bhatta used to perform in Tripura king’s court.
Well, one can be excused for being ignorant about ancient history of this region but how can one forget that it is also in this region –in Assam- that for the first time in the modern history of the country, or perhaps in the world, students were entrusted with power to rule the state –democratically.
I understand, for many Singh’s observation may sound very innocuous. After all we are used to such comments. It is always in the parlance of writers, intellectuals, Journalists and even politicians that the country’s geographical identity tends to get limited –at least in eastern side- in Calcutta or Kolkata. Not beyond that- not even up to Guwahati. But beneath the innocuous statement of a writer and intellectual of Khushwant Singh’s stature lies a deep rooted mindset of the heartland that isolated the North East region from being emotionally integrated with them. So when I visit New Delhi or Chennai- many an otherwise enlightened people ask me ‘what is the distance between Agartala and Tripura’ or ‘Is Agartala still a part of Assam’. They knew Tripura’s name as one of the Indian states to be ruled by the Marxists, secondly for militants who for many of them ‘roam in the city corners with AK47s and kill people at will’ and, of late, for Sourabhee, if not for Somdev. Not many of them, of course, are aware that Sachin Karta actually belonged to Tripura’s Royal family. But they certainly heard the name of Bijoy Hrangkhawl- who according to many is an ‘extremist leader’.
Well, you cannot expect common men to know his geography or important people of a particular Indian state in details, but when Khushwant Singh gets satisfied with a writer’s ‘rediscovery’ of India within the limit that did not include 262,230 km² land mass of the North East that shelter about four crore population (more precisely 38,857,769) I find it extremely disappointing.
Now let us try to explain the mindset in historical perspective.
The North East is, perhaps, the most colorful –in all sense-and historically is one of the most important regions in the entire country where too many developments after independence overlapped each other in quick succession.
The problem is mainland India’s mindset to often look at this ‘Mongoloid fringe’ of the country differently. This huge land mass with eight states always was, and unfortunately still tends to remain, outside the reference of people of the heartland India.
Even the British did not take much interest in making the region as the constituent of the Empire but preferred to man this frontier mostly by ‘strategic alliances and token but alert presence’. The British turned its eye to the North East only after it subjugated all parts of the subcontinent in the first quarters of nineteenth century. It was, actually, the threat of Russian expansion and perceived unpredictability of the Burmese Empire that forced the British to look East.
However, the British also left the tribal dominated hills to their local chiefs but integrated only Assam for its vast agricultural land –the main source for revenue, tea potential and oil fields. Royal Tripura and Manipur were turned into ‘dependencies’ without regular or direct administrative rein from the Viceroy.
The Eastern Frontier Regulation Act, 1873 that enforced the Inner Line Regulation left the tribal dominated hills of the region un-administered ‘Excluded’ zone. For all intents and purposes it was a deliberate attempt on the part of the British to keep the areas out of mainland India’s influence.
The British policy to leave the tribal of the North East to their own traditional life and customary administration continued more or less in a similar fashion even after India got its Independence on 15th August 1947 and country’s ‘tryst with destiny’ under the leadership of first Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru began. Added to the British introduced Inner Liner Regulations that prohibited the ‘outsiders’ from free movement in the tribal land was post independent India’s policies that further deepened the isolation with Nehruvian consensus. The Indian authorities with the advice of the first Chief Minister of Assam GN Bordoloi introduced Constitutional provisions that would ensure ‘autonomy’ for safeguarding the tribal rights.
The government policies right from the British Raj to even present day had certainly played a key role in creating a difference, alienating the tribals and isolating the region from the direct influence of mainland India and blocking the emotional merger of the North East with North, West, South India.
The history of insurrections of this region with too many facets is a different story. But, in fine, these violent activities of the non-state actors, though essentially local with immediate responses to area specific political considerations in a given time, were aimed at creating ‘pure ethnic homeland’ in this region. This is simply a result of ageold emotional isolation among many other contributing factors to the schism.
And these are some of the facts of the North East – a huge part of India with four crore hearty, sporty, spirited, cultured, educated and often dangerously assertive people in their own ways – that cannot certainly be ignored while ‘rediscovering India’.
It is also high time that people outside the region stopprd thinking India stops at Kolkata. And it is our duty–duty of the people of the region- to make them aware of it. It is the time that we assert that North East with all its Westernized life style, education, literacy rate, rich cultures, individuals like Bhupen Hazarika, Ratan Thyiam, Kunjarani, Jubin Garg, Sourabhee and Somdev, unique social structures and customs and even insurgency we are the power house of the India and India cannot be rediscovered if you do not come beyond your ‘Calcutta’. And for that--- the onus rests on us.

Written on March 23, 2009

A GENERAL WITH TAPEWORMS
IN STOMACH

By Manas Paul


When the President of a country- who also happens to be the almighty military general -gets ‘tape worms’ in his stomach, disaster always stares in the face.
So, even if General Zia-Ul-Haq had not died from a plane crash while feasting on mangoes, he would have certainly died of worm-infected diseases. And, death of a military general- that too of the top commander of the largest Islamic Military of the world -due to tiny blood sucking creatures would have by no standard been a very dignified death. In this context, people who masterminded Gen Zia’s mysterious plane crash, CIA, ISI, RAW, Mossad or a bitter individual- whoever these people might have been- they had saved Gen Zia’s honour in death.
It is ironic that while the entire country was angry at Pakistan’s role in Mumbai attack and many a hawk was asking for ‘surgical strike’ on the ‘rogue’ country, I was thinking that New Delhi should send trainloads of sweet dishes to the Pakistanis. After all, the Pak generals are susceptible to sweet-induced worms. And worms kill slowly but steadily. We could have won our war against Pakistan without spending a single bullet.
The idea actually stuck to my mind as I was reading ‘A Case of Exploding Mangoes’ authored by a Pakistani Mohammed Hanif.
This book, which John Le Carre’ described as ‘deliciously anarchic’, dealt with the bizarre time of Gen. Zia in Pakistan and his personal tape-worm infected religious life and ultimately his ‘lavender smelled’ death amidst crates full of mangoes with high profile entourage in a plane crash. It is in this book that characters like Osama Bin Laden in Western suit and flowing beard were found dropping in uninvited in important circles at a party in USA embassy, desperately trying to get some recognition. Ultimately, OBL was seen searching for some food with empty stomach.
Indeed ! Exploding Mangoes is, perhaps, the highest level of expression that is ‘darkly hilarious’ with ‘dark humour and carefully controlled anger’ as described by many.
When Sujaat Bukhari, Bureau Chief of The Hindu in J& K, first asked me to read the book I thought it could be yet another thriller. But as I went through the Exploding Mangoes I found it was not only a thriller of a different kind but one of the three books-- after ‘Le Miserable’ by Victor Hugo and ‘The Day of the Jackal’ by Fredrick Forsyth –which I completed in one sitting. I just could not stop it reading until the last page.
But there is a difference. At the end of the Exploding Mangoes you just get confused as to whether you read a novel or a hard-baked history leading to Zia’s death.
Reading never was such a ‘fun’.
Mohammed Hanif – a former Pilot Officer of Pak Air force who left the job to become a journalist and, now, BBC’s Urdu service chief in London is simply incomparable in his style and dry sarcasm.
All would agree, wives when terribly angry –which they often are –tend to keep away the husbands from their bedroom. Nothing unique in it. Married gentlemen somehow learn to live with such womanly misdemeanour and excuse the lady-at-home for his mosquito beaten lonely night for a good cup of tea next morning.
But that was not the case for Gen Zia.
Soon after the bloodless coup the mighty military man with a big and dancing moustache in the first meeting had beaten down his whisky-drinking-not-so-pious- generals with the most unlikely threat - a theology class. The Sand Hurst educated ‘mullah in four star General’s uniform...and with the instinct of a corrupt tax inspector’ gave them a long lecture on his idea about ‘Allah’s nomenclature’ and left all the battle hardened military veterans with so many colourful ‘salads’ pinned up in their chest simply stunned, and reeling under a religious shock.
Gen Zia might have all-devouring tape worms in his stomach but that did not deter him from evoking instant fear among his countrymen by hanging Z. A. Bhutto to death ignoring world pressure.
But when it came to dealing with his wife, poor Gen Zia was as helpless as a middle class drunk on the road who is afraid of meeting his wife with stomach full of whisky. In fact, Begum Zia kept the Pakistani President away from her bedroom night after night. No, Zia never drank, nor did he quarrel over any petty homely matter. He was only photographed while ogling at an American lady reporter during an interview, the way a 60-over General should not.
And for the Pakistan Information Minister it was certainly a difficult task to stand solid covering the spelling mistake in the banner pasted behind the Pakistani President when he was distributing doles to ‘widows’ under video camera. The banner spelled ‘Window’ instead of ‘Widow’. However, on that day the bigger problem for both the Information Minister and his President was when Begum Zia in a murderous mood appeared there. She was eagerly waiting to meet the General with a folded newspaper that carried his picture with the lady reporter in hand like a baton.
One of the most funny images that crossed my mind while reading the book was : how a constantly Dunhill smoking military Major who ran to his General - also his President- with full uniform but sporting a pair of Peshwari ‘chappal’, would have looked like.
The Major saluted his general in full military smartness but his ‘chappalled’ leg banged down on ground with a flopping sound that did not definitely match the military dignity.
This chappal wearing officer happened to be Major Kiyani of ISI.
Hanif was clearly talking about present Pakistan army Chief Gen Kiyani – who still smokes his Dunhill and had his stint in the ISI.
And, how an ISI chief is transferred in Pakistan? No, not for bungling a case involving India. The ISI chief loses his job when a police constable punishes his President and makes him a 'rooster' on road.
Well, Hanif did give us an idea when Gen. Zia replaced ISI head Gen. Akhtar by Gen. Beg.
Gen Zia had asked many long-serving world leaders as to how he could also remain in power for years like them. Fidel Castro told him to ‘drink lots of water with rum’, Kim il Sung told him not to watch ‘depressing movies’ and King Abdul Aziz made a crisp comment ‘ How would I know? Ask my doctor’.
Gen Zia thought his friend Ceausescu of Romania would tell him to ‘drink a pint of fresh blood every day’. But actually the ruler from the land of Dracula advised him to ‘go out’ in the public and ‘listen’ to people like Caliph Omar the Second.
Just the idea General loved. But the problem was he was afraid of going out. In fact, he did not even shift to the Presidential House but confined himself to Army house under Red Code security. He even was reluctant to attend National day celebration in public. The National Day celebration was stage managed with all army men and trusted people around and then aired by official media.
Nevertheless, Gen Zia inspired by Ceausescu, somehow managed courage and borrowing a shawl from his wife one night went out to road with his gardener’s bicycle. He was stopped by a police constable who kicked away his bicycle for not having a light. The policeman then ordered and forced the President of Pakistan to act like a ‘cock’- a childish punishment meant for school boys.
The constable shoved the President’s head down by one hand as his other hand was busy smoking a cigarette.
‘ Gen Zia reluctantly put both his hands through his legs and tried to reach for his ears’.
Gen. Zia was also forced to tell jokes about ‘Gen Zia’ to the constable. The cop, much to General’s dismay, was found to be well aware that Begum Zia did not allow him in her bed room.
As Gen Zia still acting as a 'cock' painfully announced his identity, the cop remarked:
‘Isn’t one General Zia enough for this poor nation? Do we need crazies like you running around in the middle of the night pretending to be him?’
This was enough for Gen Zia who by now was pretty sure that his ISI chief Gen Akhtar was giving him all bull-shits about his popularity. On that night only Gen Akhtar’s life as eyes and ears of the master ended. He was made ‘chairman of Joint Chief of Staff Committee’- the job required only to ‘inaugurate some housing complex’.
Hanif was, however, the cruellest in observing Osama Bin laden. In the US ambassador’s party Osama picked up a journalist for some small talks and wanted his pictures to be taken. But the journalist did not give him a damn. Disappointed, Osama went to local CIA chief named ‘Chuck Coogan’ who just said ‘Nice suit OBL...How is the business brother?
Osama replied, ‘Allah has been very kind. There is no business like the construction business in times of war’.
At the end as none took much interest on the man from ‘Laden and Co Constructions’ Osama found ‘himself strolling on the empty lawns amid discarded paper plates, half eaten hot dogs and chewed up bones. He suddenly remembered that he had not as yet eaten. He went towards the tent from where he had smelled the lamb’s fat burning’.
But unfortunately for the Master Terrorist of the future there was nothing left. Osama Bin Laden had to leave the party with empty stomach as others could enjoy it in the fullest.
The protagonist of the novel Ali Shigri -an under officer of Pak Air force is perhaps lone conspirator in the world who could have come out with an audacious plan to kill Zia with snake venom during a drill inspection. He indeed succeeded by pricking Zia with his poisoned sword in a fake accident, but then, there another assassination plan was running side by side that would have used a fatal gas contained in lavender room freshener and hidden in the air conditioner of the Pak One. This plan was hatched by Gen Akhtar with his man Major Kiyani. Both succeeded. The plane exploded as Gen Zia with American Ambassador Arnold Raphel and others were feasting on mangoes that were gifted to him by some Mango association. What, however, the worst of destiny –almost to the tune of Greek tragedy – is that Gen Akhtar had to be also aboard the same plane where he had planted the gas. He also died with full knowledge of what fate was in store for them hidden in the air conditioner.
Gen Zia hoped he would get the Nobel Prize for peace as he played a key role in ousting the Godless Russians from Afghanistan. Gen. Zia was also magnanimous in expressing his desire to ‘share the Nobel Prize’, if needed, with the American envoy.
Unfortunately the General’s last wish was not fulfilled. But General Zia was a pious man who offered five Namaz every day and wept profusely when in Mecca. He would certainly be blessed- tapeworm or no tapeworm. After all in the very beginning Mohammed Hanif had assured the readers through one of his characters Obaid: ‘God’s glory, God’s glory. For every monkey there is a Houri’.



Published on 16-01-2009

THE LAST NIGHT OF THE JACKAL

By Manas Paul

PART- 1: THE ENCOUNTER

It was evidently the night of the jackals.
Four years ago for the first time I was in Shalbagan army officers’ complex to attend a family programme at Major Abhijit’s residence. It was 7.30 pm and I knew not where exactly the Major’s quarters was. I drove past the officer’s residential area and soon found myself lost in the maze of deserted roads that criss-crossed through undulating uplands and dense foliage that stretched beyond, God knows where, piercing through the darkness.
The moon was shining bright in the clear sky and everything looked slightly silvery and mesmerizing. Yet, in my loneliness inside the huge and uninhabited complex there was something diabolic, something creepy.
The eerie silence was all pervasive, but I believe, once or twice I heard some unseen creature slinked away from the roadside bushes. It was an uncanny feeling. The only thing reassuring around me was the tall street lights which were all faithfully bright in the army complex.
I was trying to call Abhijit over mobile but the service was not available.
I was truly lost to myself and was driving absentmindedly, taking turn from one way to other.

And, then it happened.

All of a sudden -just following a hairpin bend- I landed in the midst of a pack of big brown jackals.

They- about 10 or 12- were sitting cool right on the middle of the road, their fur reflected strangely in the moonlight.
I woke up with start from my loneliness and brought my car to a screeching halt only about four or five feet away from the pack. But surprisingly the jackal family did not scoot away. They did not seem much alarmed but they were clearly disturbed. The bigger ones looked up at the car headlights with a face which, I felt, looked like a clear indication of collective annoyance. The smaller babies were bewildered and they swiftly crawled to and then slipped under their vermin mothers.
It was their night and it was their domain where they could roam free, hunt free and live free.
It was I who was an intruder in their world.
During my childhood in a small subdivision town Kamalpur I had jackals in my neighborhood too- but whenever I saw them I saw them only for a few seconds. Most of the time I sighted only one or two of them extremely wary and restless and, as they would always flee fast I could remember only their bushy brownie tails.
But this was for the first time in Shalbagan that I could see so many jackals at one pack who were not afraid and preferred to stick to their ground. Evidently they were readying for their famous collective howls. I just foxed them with my intrusion.
But for me it was a great experience. I think jackals are the only wild life that is still available down your lonely forested lanes.
And on that night in the wilderness of Shalbagan in a true sense it was my real encounter with wild life. It took place only, say, about four kilometers from the humdrums of city life.
Later, Major Abhijit came to my rescue and told me I had almost gone near Adarini tea estate bordering the Shalbagan complex.
He told me there were hundreds of such packs in the complex and they moved free in large tracts in this region- from Gurkhabasti to Lichubagan to Shalbagan to Lembucherra or beyond.
“There were plenty of them. And exactly at 11.30 pm every night they would start their chorus. Their weird howl would reverberate all around us. It was a feeling that reminded me of my younger days in Khowai”, said Debkumar Chakrabarti, BSNL GM who had once stayed at his official residence in Lichubagan.
”Now- funny as it may sound- in Ramnagar at my residence I really miss that chorus”, he added.

PART 2 : MISSING THE ELUSIVE NEIGHBOUR

Last week I just happened to be in the upcoming Capital Complex at the out skirt of Agartala. As I looked around I wondered -where have they gone, those brownie big jackals?
The verdant shrubs, thick undergrowth and bushy trees had disappeared fast and for ever from the vast land as the massive Capital complex using too many noisy humans and dreadful machines took shape. The huge concrete buildings that would house Assembly, Civil secretariat and all important offices had already ravaged the vast foliage-full of upland stretch from Lichubagan to Shalbagan.
Obviously, those jackals had lost their rodent (if not rabbit) filled lush green lands, their peaceful days and crying nights too.
Frightened and confused at the commotion all around they must have already moved out farther afield in search of quiet.
The jackals, I believe, were the biggest casualty of the fast track development and expanding horizon of Agartala city. It is, perhaps, also a classic case of man-animal conflicts in the ever growing city life.
Forest department quite evidently did not attach much importance to those foxy animals. The jackals are protected under lower category schedule and wild life activists seemed not really bothered to consider jackals as wild life at all. And humans never found those stealthy creatures all very interesting.
But, believe me, jackals are interesting.
Have you ever noticed jackals happen to be the only canine which is known for his undying fascination for jackfruits? (Seems the fruit derived name from the animal only).
Shakespeare knew tricks and cunningness actually ran in their blood when he said, (treason) "...is trusted like the fox, who, never so tame, so cherished and locked up, will have a wild trick of his ancestors."
Upendra Kishore Roychoudhury was, however, a little more considerate at the wily animal. He told us stories about jackals who were actually the 'maternal uncle' of the tigers, or a 'teacher' whom the fatherly crocodile entrusted with the delicious task of making his seven baby crocs 'intelligent'. The father crocodile came to know how stupid he was when he lost his children to the teacher. (Consult Tuntunir golpo -Stories of Tuntuni, the bird).
If you ever notice a jackal catching a crab, you know how right they were. The jackal would find a crab hole and put his bushy tail inside the hole. The crab would inevitably find the peeping tail interesting and hold it tight. The jackal would then pick up both his tail and the crab for his dinner.
What you would call it? A trick? Or a very intelligent and ingenious method for catching his prey? Do not you see it is almost like angling that the humans love in their lazy hours? There is, indeed, a very thin line between tricks and intelligent way of living a life.
But now as Agartala would be stretching out farther keeping pace with the time as well to accommodate the ever increasing population soon jackals in our vicinity would also be leaving us. It is, of course, not only the question of losing the scavengers near the human habitats but also an issue of impending ecological imbalance and rise of rodents at certain level. May be one day we would have to have some sort of 'Project Jackal' like that of 'Project Vulture' for saving these crafty animals.
We have already got a generation who had never seen a jackal. They have not heard how a band of jackal could cry in unison- how one jackal or a vermin in a distant place would start howling (a la their canine brother wolves) looking up at the moon -and then immediately others- not necessarily belonging to the same pack or family- would join him or her for the chorus. The chorus might be as brief as for a minute or, depending upon their mood, even last for more than half an hour. The hot summer night or the rain splashed evening would then resonate with that unearthly yowl coming out from the uninhabited or less frequented shrubby lands not in a very distant place filling the atmosphere with a strange and creepy feeling.
The children would certainly miss it. And for the grown ups-as the jackals in Lichubagan and its adjoining areas are preparing for their last chorus together we, would never again get some chance encounters with our ever elusive neighbors in our expanding city- called Agartala.
Remember what the ‘Jackal’, an independent, lonely and extremely dangerous assassin in Fredrick Forsyth’s thriller ‘The Day of the Jackal’ had said?
“There is no escape from a determined killer”. And the jackals in Lichubagan region know it better.

Foot note. 1. Debashis Chakrabarty a Wild Life expert from Dehradun told me in India we do not find ‘Fox’, there are only Jackals.
2. The Ancient Egyptians had a Jackal God ‘Anubis’ for their mummies.

Published on 30-06-2009

IN THE NAME OF DOG.....

By Manas Paul

They always said, ‘give a dog bad name and, hang it’. And I knew some characters like Black Leclere who had given his wicked eyed dog a name ‘Batard’- a distortion of ‘Bastard’, in fact –whom he would also often refer to as ‘devil’. Both Black and Batard matched with contempt and hatred for each other until the end came for the both. The ‘un-heavenly’ bond between the master and his dog –that the ‘hell might have also paid for’ - in the story 'Batard' was not only ‘unprecedented’ but in all sense ‘terrific’. But then, Jack London was a master storyteller especially when it came to canines with ‘Buck’ leading his packs in ‘Call of the Wild’.
On November 8, 2008 I was, however, in for surprise when I came across a positively bizarre expression, ‘First Dog’ of America, referring to the USA President’s pets in newspapers. The Times of India enlightened us with precious tidbits on George Bush’s pet and outgoing “First Dog’ Barnie- who may be, in a bitter mood at the prospect of leaving the cozy confines of White House for ever, bit a journalist’s finger when he sought to play with the dog. The Telegraph on the same day dedicated its editorial for the Americans’ ‘First Dogs’ only, while on the previous day they had carried the names and breeds of a galaxy of VIP canines loved and cared for by a succession of US Presidents from George Washington to George W. Bush.
The Indian newspapers evidently picked up the word ‘First Dog’ from American media.
I am not sure whether this is for the first time the American newspapers in their Obama inspired ‘United’ voice wanted to popularize the word ‘First Dog’ or ‘First Puppy’, attributing a new meaning and a respectable connotation to the canine denizens of the White House. Many would opine they had temporarily secured rehabilitation from people who had acted more often as ‘Dogs of War’ fighting out their own selfish battles in places like Afghanistan or Iraq.
Or, was the Americans’ new found respect for the dogs anyway related to Chinese authorities’ cynophobic (Sinophobic !) decision during Beijing Olympics to quarantine all the city dogs so that the foreigners were not ‘disturbed’?
Whatever it is, I would certainly love the people who had coined the nomenclature ‘First Dog’. After all to give a dog a good name has always proved a tricky matter.
President Washington seemed to have also had tough time with his 10 dogs as he had christened some of them with ‘Forester’, ‘Captain’, ‘Madame Moose’, ‘Searcher’ and even ‘Sweet lips!’ while Lyndon Johnson seemed to have played safe with his two dogs calling them ‘Him’ and ‘Her’ only. And Gerald Ford had his Golden Retriever named as ‘Liberty’.
Reportedly one of our own top political functionaries also- in his own unique style, of course- had ‘baptized’ his dog with a name that expressed his anger against ‘castism’ quite bitterly.
I still remember during my private tuition days in Kamalpur one of my students had a dog which was called ‘Pundit’. I did not like the name.
In fact, to choose a name for your dog is all the more problematic when you have small children at home. You may have some good names in your mind –like ‘Tiger’ ‘Jackie’ ‘Tommy’, ‘Jimmy’, ‘Badsha’, ‘Begum’ etc but at the end it is your children who would come up with some name that would ultimately stick.
When I first brought my black Labrador puppy home many a good name passed by my mind. Since I do not have children at home and my wife would prefer to stay away from undertaking ‘arduous exercise’ in finding a name for the pup I was given a freedom of sort. I looked at the pup sitting comfortably on a towel and playing intently with a toy. He would often look up at me –stare for a while as if to reassure himself about my presence near him-the only human smell he got used to for the last few hours in an alien environ far from the care of his doggy parents and playful siblings- and then would go back to his games.
I thought of many names like ‘Cujo’ and even once almost zeroed in on baptizing him ‘White Fang’. I am not superstitious but when I remembered the rabid end of ‘Cujo’-the huge St Barnard of Stephen King’s book I discarded the idea. I would have really loved to call him ‘White Fang’ but it sounded a little ‘too much for a reporter’s dog in a city’.
I was aware Bill Clinton had a Labrador-the same breed of my pup- but I did not know his name was ‘Buddy’ or else, perhaps, I would have chosen the same name.
Ultimately I did not choose any name –but started calling him ‘Pocha’ unwittingly out of love, of course, which by the way is no better a Bengali name for a dog than ‘Batard’ in Jack London’s story. The pup happily responded to the name little knowing the rotten meaning but Dr SS Debbarma, a compassionate pet lover Vet surgeon who gave him all the vaccinations seemed disturbed. So in official health cards ‘Pocha’ has been named as ‘Sultan’. He now responds to both the names.
Labrador is a well-known family dog- extremely intelligent and cool, a hunter’s delight, actually used for retrieving the kill, but he is also famous for sniffing out explosives worldwide. After Agartala Bomb Blasts people here also know the dog very well - and that had once created a small embarrassment for me.
Like every dog owners I take out ‘Pocha’ at night for a walk. He would stroll along with me for sometime calmly and then all of a sudden some queer smell from the roadside would always hit his nostrils and then he would pull me to this direction. He would sniff around for a while until he is satisfied before resuming the walk. This was the regular exercise and none took much interest except the children who would look at the dog with wide-eyed amazement.
Last week the situation was, however, different.
I had to take ‘Pocha’ to Dr Debbarma at Banamalipur. My car was given to a garage for some repairing and was not available. As neither Pocha was ready for a rickshaw ride, nor were the rickshaw pullers willing to allow the big black dog on his rickshaw, I decided to have a long walk to the doctor’s chamber.
It was by then night and at a roadside Pocha went for sniffing something and ironically it happened to be a ‘paper box’. I let him sniff the box until he was satisfied –little aware that behind me two persons were looking at him intently. They were soon joined by two more and within minutes there were about six or seven.
“What is it ? Is it a bomb”, as some one asked I immediately came to know big problem was in the offing. The queries would soon give way to panic and then I would be in big trouble.
I hurriedly sought to convince them “No, No, not at all. He just wants to pee, you see. It is not a bomb squad dog. It’s nothing, It’s nothing...” I said and pulled the chain hard and started walking straight. May be, by this time it dawned upon the onlookers also that the cops –with bomb squad or wherever they are- do not sport beard or go alone with their sniffing canine.
As I walked an idea struck me-what if the CID thinks of ‘out sourcing’ their dog squad? The threat of bombs would linger for sometime over Agartala as evident from state government asking for central fund for seven more bomb squad spots in the state and people finding some suspicious objects time and again. Out sourcing Bomb Squad dogs would save the police department a good amount of money from what they spend for bringing a trained dog from Tikenpur or other places. In that case I may also get my Pocha trained for explosive recovery by some means and earn some good money. After all fishing in the troubled water is an old practice... By this time I shall also be eagerly awaiting the breed and name of the pup Mr Obama would give to his small daughters when he enters White House. As suggested by some media I also believe it would, indeed, be a good idea if he adopts an abandoned dog to show his concern for the ‘underdog’.

Written on November 9, 2008

CHHANGU LAKE: PARADISE IN DIZZYING HEIGHT

By Manas Paul


All the serpentine slippery roads were abuzz with 'khaki' and I did not find it really eye soothing. When you earnestly seek an escape from the daily drudgery , 'far from the madding crowd and ignoble strife' you look for cool, fresh air and cloud-capped mountains. The sight of too many heavily booted cops in familiar uniforms would certainly be disconcerting , particularly for a man married to a police officer, blessed with too many khaki-clad friends and relatives and functioning from an office in front of Agartala?s busiest police station.
I was flabbergasted : why should a charming tourist place have such overwhelming presence of securitymen everywhere ?
There is no militancy in Sikkim and-as I know for sure- crime rate in this state is also abnormally low. Sikkimese are very much peace loving, fun loving simple hill people. They hardly need this much of police protection. The sight of police officers and constables all the time might not also go down well with the travelers, especially from abroad. In the back of mind I was actually comparing Gangtok with Manali- where I did not find any policeman. I remember the only police man I had seen was the cop who stood calm and quiet on the bridge near the city on way to Rohtang Pass.
But the Sikkimese are fine with the men, and a large number of women in khakis regulating the traffic. They are not clad in white uniform and they are tough. That is what my driver from New Jalpaiguri had also told me.
"Without them you would not be able to walk on the road. There are too many vehicles to control", said Amalendu Kundu, a senior journalist of Gangtok.And soon I found how correct he was.
Gangtok despite being a small hilly city has massive concentration of vehicles, perhaps second to Aizwal. With the inflow of tourists from the plains at the onset of the summer, thousands more are added every day from West Bengal and even Assam. Sikkim ?the latest in the list of most favourite tourist destinations of the country- cannot but devise a stringent plan to cope with the situation. And the stringent plan involves some regulations that traffic police of Agartala, where road accidents and resultant deaths are an everyday occurrence, would find hard to believe. In Gangtok no car is allowed to overtake, no car can honk in the city limit and none?no matter, how big you are riding a Red-lightwalla ambassador, or which security force you belong to- can park except in marked parking places.
Soon, I found traffic in Sikkim is, indeed, very smart, very disciplined. Travel to Nathu-La or Chhangu Lake up in the dizzy height of the ice capped Himalayan range and you will discover how Sikkimese drivers ?most of whom are, of course the Nepalese,- have mastered the driving skill with discipline.
For me on the first day of April, Nathu La was out of bound as military stopped civilian movements there due to Tibetan problem. My wife was crestfallen at the news. An introvert lady, she does not prefer to show overt interest on anything but as a student of history she had hoped to see the China border through which ancient India had regular trades. Anyway, she regained her heart when Hotel manager told us that we could visit snowy Chhangu Lake, also known as Tsomgo Lake, at the height of about 13000 feet above the sea and a little below Nathu La.
As our car started rolling on the Silk route of the yore for the Chhangu Lake, the very first sight that warmed our heart with intense joy was hundreds of pretty and, all the time smiling, kids dressed in smart school uniform.
By the side of the serene road they walked uphill in groups slightly bending forward apparently due to the weight of their school bag in the back ?or may be, this was the way one should climb hill to reduce stress. Yet, they frolicked, and they smiled as they walked. Whenever a car would pass by, they would stop, look up at the tourists with an innocent face and then would break into a toothless smile. Last time you would look back from the rear window you would see the kid waving at you.The car moved ahead and the beautiful sight of the playful school children gave way to a more serious business as the car stopped before a check-gate. Here we had to show identities and permits- which of course our driver D K Pradhan did for us.
The Indian army monitoring the strategic route has a limit as to how many vehicles- say 150 or so- and how many tourists would be allowed to go up to the Chhangu Lake or beyond (Nathu-La) a day.
Up in the mountains as the first sight of snow in the hilly slopes made our heart leap some deep green dots on the white snows started turning bigger with every passing moment. These were the military bases- their green-roofed camps, partially covered with white ice. The camps were set up near the road and the heavy duty army trucks- many of them with chains tied in the wheels so to avert skidding on the slippery snow- were parked in rows as if ready to roll out at any moment. Soldiers in thick camouflage jackets, boots and goggles looked busy everywhere. They looked cool and tough. But talk to them, a warm smile with equally warm handshake would greet the tourist.
At a point called Kyongnosla, we passed a picturesque water falls by the road and then came to a halt in a market for some tea or coffee. If you feel too cold, well, you may like to have some rum or brandy.
Cross the military bases at, say 10,000 feet, this time you may feel really dizzy. The road, if not narrow, is certainly not wide. You can see the mountain ridges going down to infinite depth below. The first thing that strikes the mind inevitably- if the car skids off- cloud covered hollow would immediately swallow you down. The only thing assuring is the calm and quiet driver who looks so confident and experienced on this road.
Farther up, slowly the road gets wet as the snow now comes down to the roadside from the mountain tops. If the climate is cool and there are rains- which is almost certain in the noon- the vehicles would have to drive slow, very slow, on the snow covered road. From here the vehicles roll very close to each other. They say, hills never forgive a mistake.
Some more moments, you go up, up and farther up-- and then suddenly the Paradise is in front of you.White had never been so beautiful.Here is the Chhangu Lake- surrounded by mesmerizing White Mountains, a lake that looks so hypnotic, so different from all other lakes that you have seen in the world.
On April 1, the lake was frozen with ash-colored ice layer spreading over the deep blue water. I have seen a big black dog- may be a mountain dog belonging to a Sikkimese hunter, running on the frozen lake. And there was also a yak that was sniffing for grass near the icy lake. They are comfortable and have that God given instinct- the sixth sense- that will save them if the ice gets thinner or melts.
But man is man and a small wrong step can take him down below ?and for ever. So no walk on the icy lake.
At the high noon the sky was getting cloudy and cold wind started blowing. The pretty and fair complexioned local ladies were selling their colorful wares and foods to the thousands of travelers ?mostly Bengali, of course, while young Sikkimese boys moved around with their yaks asking all to have a ride. The families with young children would have no other option but to go for the yak ride.
The road near the lake was very narrow. But it was indeed surprising as to how the huge military trucks, hundreds of smaller vehicles and yak-riders could easily give pass to each other on the snowy and slippery road without making any 'traffic jam' or without any angry voice.In paradise you do not need a traffic police.As the noon proceeds to afternoon, it is time that that you must prepare to return. Or there would be rains and the road would be more precarious.
The downhill journey was not so dizzying. But this time I looked at the snowy mountains, the hovering clouds, the road side flowers and dazzling colored bushes more intently. This time I did not have the inherent tension of visiting an unknown beauty called Chhangu Lake. This time I savored the road side beauty with a different eye and clicked some pictures that I had missed earlier.
On way down at the advice of the driver we spent some time at the Hanuman Tok and Zoological Park. If you are traveling Gangtok with kids, my advice is, never miss this Zoological Park where the kids would be amazed to see the Tibetan Wolf, Snow Leopard, Red Panda and Leopard Cats.As the Sun set somewhere above the cloudy sky, and drizzling began we returned to Hotel with a full heart. At least this year none could make me an April Fool. I was up in the Paradise.

Written on March 10, 2008

GEN NEXT: POINT -COUNTER POINT

By Manas Paul


You may not like the way they ride high power motorbikes zooming past crowded thoroughfares often without helmets- or you may get increasingly irritated at their funny spiky hair-dos. But trust me; they are not as gone-to-waste- or as dumb as you tend to believe. They are the new generation youths who take on the life with all might and spirit, which you did not dare to in your time.

In your early years you spent your days climbing trees, playing football ( not ˜soccer') in muddy fields, time and again getting engaged in fierce dog fights with your mates and when you were in good mood you rode your prized possession a Hercules by-cycle with your friend sitting on the handle bar for miles together. You came back home sweating and tired and by nine o'clock you dozed off to a world of intense sleep- your books lying scattered on floor mat or on bed. Night was by then deep dark outside.

I am sure you did not like your school books then, but I am equally confident that you read all those good ol' books- 'Thakurmar Jhuli', Sukumar Roy, Upendra Kishore Roy Choudhury or Parashuram and traveled to an imaginary world of funny weird creatures, flew with them in a dreamland for hours. You might not have been interested with geography, or the word ˜Africa' might not have evoked much excitement in you, but I know you really liked Bibhuti Bhusan's˜Chander Pahar'. You gulped down Sashdhar Datta's Mohan Series, Swapan kumar's Dipak Chatterjee or Niharranjan's Kiriti Roy- no less great than Sherlock Holmes- used to fascinate you and you thought one day you would also a become "detective'.Now after, say, 40 to 50 years you resent that the next-Gen boys and girls do not read those beautiful books. And as such they do lose their childhood, you feel.

But perhaps this is not an absolutely correct observation per se.The next-Gen boys and girls have their own childhood, as much beautiful and dreamy and playful as it was yours.When I was a child growing up in sub divisional town of Kamalpur I was convinced that there was a 'ghost' in the huge banyan tree across the river Dhalai. I believed in 'Petni'- white clad widow-ghost who moved behind our kitchen at night asking in her typical nasal tone for a piece of fish from my mother.
But to be frank, I did not believe in Santa Clause. He did never rouse any interest in me. Even at my age of eight or ten I was pretty sure Santa was a hoax. The young boys of Subdivisions are, trust me, very smart when it comes to something that is alien to his own environment. In a sense, my childhood was limited to my own world of fantasies with 'local characters' like ghost, Upendra Kishore's Tuntuni or Majantali Sarkar et al . I was happy with them, despite my travels with Gulliver or Tom Sawyer or with the sea-voyage in search of Treasure Island or to kill the killer Moby Dick, or spending years with Robinson Crusoe. Those were great, captivating, but those were not mine.

My childhood certainly has a definite and everlasting impact on me-I still do not find Harry Potter much convincing. A good reading no doubt. but not convincing. I had my own ideas of 'witches' when I was a youngster.But now look at the boys in their teens or yet-to be teen. They can accept anything that is interesting“ no matter where it is or from where it has come. Their childhood means no boundary; their fantasies play not only in their immediate environment but can reach even up to Hogwarts School.

Once I asked a small girl of eight about Harry Potter. And the girl beamed with a toothless smile. She had read all the massive Harry Potters and endlessly talked about the stories of the magic world. She was convinced..
"Uncle, can I also join the Hogwarts and become a wizard, I want to practice witchcrafts too", was her final statement.
Her cousin “again a small boy of say five years- believes Santa Clause brings gifts for him during Christmas.
"As soon as he awakens he searches for gifts everywhere.˜He becomes restless until he gets the chocolates that we keep in socks for him", his mother said.

"And when he would go to Sipahijala he would invariably ask for the Rein Deers".
Grown up and they are now in a different world- a world of global knowledge through Internet.I first saw a TV when I was in Class XII during the Asian Games. And, my first encounter with a Computer was in an Indian Airlines Office. It was amazing what the 'TV like machine' could do. By that time I was already out of college. And now ? The baby grows up with the Tom and Jerry in the Cartoon Network. And when he is in Class II or III he had already learnt about CPU, monitor and basics of computer applications. From there his journey to internet and the world of information and knowledge is smooth. Very smooth. By the time he becomes a teen the world is at his fingertip. He has already got an email Id , he talks to his friends through computers and he reads supporting articles for his examinations in internet.

You may ask : Yet, he has not read Manik Bondopadhyaya. He does not know much about Sharat Chandra or Bankim Chandra. True, there is a gap 'indeed a huge gap- in his knowledge about Bengali literature. But can we blame them? Do we have a good, modern library in Agartala that would cater to their demands? We always resent we do not produce an IAS or IFS. But where is the library that would support them in becoming an all India service officer?
Still, the new-Gen boy certainly knows a lot about 'symbolism in arts' thanks to Dan Brown and his celebrated 'Da Vinci Code'- which I did not know when I was of his age. He might not have read 'Gora'- but he had read Malgudi Days, he did not read Upendra Kishore but he did read Ruskin Bond.
The point is they are a different generation in their different world.
As I said, you do not like the way they ride their motorbikes, but tell me when you were young did you have a motorbike at all ? Yet, you had your own style with your Hercules or Humbar speeding it up and often throwing away your hand in the air balancing the cycle with legs only. The reason : Same, the spirit of youth.

You despise their spiky gelled hair, but remember how you fancied lock-curl on the forehead a la Biswajit. You feel discomfort when the young men move in the public wearing only 'three quarters'- but you also had your own tight trousers in early seventies that needed a second man to pull it out ?
The new generation is certainly smarter than that of ours. In our younger days we used to smoke- almost all, many times only to impress the girls. Nowadays, the boys seldom smoke and the girls do not like it. Those days we seldom spoke to girls -directly-even of she was our class mate. Boys were boys, girls were girls- all separate in their groups playing and talking their leisure times away. Boys were too shy to speak to girls- even if they so desperately wanted- because it would be a subject of leg pulling for friends. And whenever a girl came near you to say something 'your knees would inevitably give in. We could not make a girl our friend. But this is not the case with the neo-Gen boys and girls. They are free in their choice and conscience.

(This article was written in 2007)

‘LOOK EAST"-DAWOOD WAY

By Manas Paul


(This article was written following arrest of Dawood Ibrahim's henchman Dawood Merchant in Bangladesh)

Dawood Ibrahim seems to have embarked on his own Look East policy as his Pakistan sojourn nowadays is under increasing USA pressure and a growing sense of uncertainty in Karachi establishments due to recent Talibani trouble appears not so comfortable for him. Dawood is already in the USA list of top ten wanted terrorists of the world and is being hunted by almost all the intelligence services that include CIA, RAW, Mossad, MI 6 etc -barring, of course, its mentor ISI.
And if a crime syndicate like that of D-Company which is groomed, helped and abetted by the ISI was seriously thinking to shift and expand its power base to the East which place could be the most favourable destination other than Bangladesh? After all, it is in the shadowy world of intelligence community and Islamic fundamentalists in Bangladesh that ISI had long been entrenched; to be precise since November 1977- the year Zia ur Rehman formed the Bangladesh military intelligence- DGFI- in the line of ISI.
For record, it was the then ISI chief Lt. General Ghulam Jillani Khan , the man behind Afghan Mujahideen war against the Russians, and the then CIA chief Michael Hayden who had visited Dhaka in October 1977 and guided Zia to shape the DGFI.
Incidentally, it was the same Lt Gen Khan who had been Zia’s commander in Pakistan army. He came to Dhaka from Islamabad while Hayden flew down with a special flight from Bangkok- the mission was formation of DGFI.1
Within months of ISI and CIA chiefs’ advice, officials from newly formed DGFI were sent to CIA training centre at Camp Peary and then Hartford and later to ISI’s Islamabad training centre. The DGFI marriage with ISI is as old as that.
In Pakistan ISI turned Islamic mostly during the time of General Zia Ul Haque and so in Bangladesh DGFI followed suit under successive military and anti-India forces in the power.
Of course, things have evidently changed in Bangladesh over the last two years or so. Bangla Bhai was hanged and HUJI-B that masterminded assassination attempts on Sheikh Hasina was being hunted and forced to lie low. With Awami League in power ISI and its hand picked men in the Bangladesh intelligence community, especially in the DGFI, are also not in a position to openly support the Islamic fundamentalists as well as anti-Indian elements there. The public reaction in the wake of recent BDR mutiny, which is suspected to have been instigated by some Islamic fundamentalists, also points to the general mood, much to the dismay of the ISI.
In this phase there came the sudden development: arrest of Dawood Ibrahim’s henchmen- Abdur Rouf Daud Merchant, Jahid Sheikh, Arif Hussain et al in Bangladesh and disclosure of D-Company’s terror network.

The D-Company Network
For the last few days Bangladesh authorities are regularly briefing the media- and that too in details- about the arrest as well as subsequent confessions made by Abdur Rouf Daud Merchant and other Dawood syndicate members who had taken shelter in their country.
The focal point of the briefings as disclosed by Dhaka Metropolitan Police Commissioner AKM Sahidul Haque and several other officials in important positions can be summed up in one single line : Dawood Ibrahim presently sheltered in Karachi was planning to set up a terror syndicate in Bangladesh through his second in command Dubai based Chhota Shakeel and that he already had succeeded in creating the base of the network with 150 activists including 20 women. Some influential businessmen and politicians helped him in this design.2
The briefings and subsequent Bangladesh media reports came handy for us who report from this bordering town to our local and national newspapers.
But there are some disturbing elements in the reports that cannot be ignored, at least sitting here in North East India, especially in Agartala due to our geo-strategic location.
Any such terror network next door is bound to pose serious threat to the security of Tripura and the North East region in general. Dawood Ibrahim’s direct involvement in Cox Bazaar arms supply for North East militants-ULFA in particular- at the instance of ISI makes this threat evident.
Now, with the D-Company’s presence in Bangladesh being established beyond doubt and recent spurt of the crime syndicate activities in the country coming to fore some questions automatically arise : why Dawood Ibrahim would like to have his terror network revived right now in Bangladesh?

There could be three possibilities
1. Dawood Ibrahim wants to strengthen his arms smuggling racket in this region especially after the fall of LTTE that had once been actively involved in the trade with the help of Karikal Muslims. That Dawood had a strong presence in the South East Asian countries could be proved by the fact that it was his same sword-arm Chhota Shakeel who in September 2000 launched a daredevil attack on another gangster Chhota Rajan in Bangkok

2. Dawood Ibrahim at the behest of ISI is now hell bent to strengthen Islamic terror in Bangladesh that had got severe beatings in recent time first by the hanging of Bangla Bhai, second with Sheikh Hasina Led Awami League returning to Dhaka with overwhelming majority and a growing nationwide awareness about the HUJI-B’s hell bent designs.

3. One of the assumptions that might sound audacious but could not be ruled out altogether is that-Dawood Ibrahim gang was being used by Islamic terror network, ISI or even the BDR mutiny mastermind in a conspiracy to assassinate Sheikh Hasina.
Earlier in late 1990s besides Islamic terrorist attacks there were also several attempts to assassinate Hasina by hired mercenaries- once by Mujib assassins in the Netherlands using Palestinian hitman Abu Hamid and then by using an unnamed French mercenary. Both the conspiracy hatched in a hotel known as Breda in the South Netherlands failed. Later, again in 2000 the same group sought LTTE’s support to send three Human Bombs to take off Hasina in exchange of 10 million dollar and assurance of allowing LTTE to use two islands in the Bay of Bengal Qutubdia and Sonadia for arms dumping en route to Jaffna . Indian intelligence unearthed the plan following interrogation report of Manoj Srivastava- an ISI asset in Kathmandu and also from other foreign secret services that monitored the Netherlands meeting. And on their tip off three Tamil human bombs sent for the purpose were nabbed- Subhalakshmi was arrested in Kolkata airport, Thaslima and Mahua (pseudo name) were picked up in Khagracherri and Khulna respectively. Dawood Ibrahim’s gang can also be pulled in for the same purpose. 1A
A close study of Dawood and his mentor ISI’s previous activities clearly points to all the three possibilities-but more strongly at the arms smuggling angle.

Bangladesh being strategically located in South East Asia and with her porous border with India, Myanmar and easy access to the Bay of Bengal could be the preferred conduit for arms smuggling rackets and D-Company besides Hawala racket and other shady trades is actively involved in arms smuggling in this continent.
As in view of the increased American presence in, and international pressure being mounted on Pakistan, for Dawood- one of the USA’s top ten list of absconding terrorists- Karachi or Quetta- is becoming increasingly insecure. As sheer uncertainty despite having an elected government in Islamabad prevails in Pakistan with growing Talibani menace inside its territory D-Company is also facing tough time ahead. Dawood Ibrahim has several reasons to be jittery that would make him think to transfer his crime empire to some other country which would be less risky but favorable for his trades.
Dubai could have been the favourite destination for him but operating from there was also being extremely dangerous again due to American surveillance and presence of almost all other countries’ secret services there and that include Mossad as well as RAW. Other Muslim countries in the Gulf or Africa are also not in a mood to house an extra trouble called Dawood Ibrahim.
But Bangladesh is different-especially for ISI’s longstanding influence and a considerable anti-Indian sentiment at the establishment.
So, in the changed circumstances it could be assumed without running the risk of being excessively paranoid that the ISI (and their DGFI cohorts) might have also resorted to classical tradecraft of intelligence gathering tactic by using crime syndicate and underworld characters-here it is being called Dawood Ibrahim.
In this game Dawood would be playing the second fiddle in Bangladesh for the ISI. This means it would lessen direct participation from Karachi as well as Kachukhet (DGFI HQ in Bangladesh) and would also have complete deniability. In turn the ISI would help Dawood to run his arms smuggling which is a highly profitable business.
How profitable it is can be gauged from the fact that a Chinese automatic rifle which is sold to the smugglers $500 in eastern Myanmar would be re-sold at $2,500 to the North East Indian militants. In North East a brand new Chinese version of AK series rifle- T 56 -is sold at Rs 2.5-3 lakh and if it is second hand arms then the price would come down to Rs 1.5 lakh. Chinese M-20 pistol or .30 MARCOS pistol are sold at Rs 1-1.5 lakh each. The magazines are cheap and sold at Rs 100 a piece. 3

D-Company’s involvement in arms supply
Dawood Ibrahim had long been involved in arms smuggling with his clients spread through out South Asian region- right from ULFA to LTTE. A glaring example of Dawood Ibrahim’s arms smuggling at the behest of ISI and Bangladeshi intelligence apparatus for the anti Indian establishment outfits is the Cox Bazaar arms case. Bangladesh news media reported that investigation by the present Bangladesh government established beyond doubt that ISI had planned the Cox Bazaar arms supply in April 2004 with the help of Dawood Ibrahim syndicate for ULFA. ISI had taken active help from its accomplices in Bangladeshi Intelligence like former National Security Intelligence (NSI) Director General Brigadier General (Retd) Md Abdur Rahim and his junior former director (security) Wing Commander (Retd) Sahabuddin Ahmed. ISI arranged the financial support from ARY group of Dubai. The group is owned by a Pakistani Abdur Razzak Yaqoob- a close associate of ISI.
According to the statements given by the two NSI officials to the Bangladesh CID recently they had met with ISI official Brigadier Mogisuddin and Col Shahed Mahmud working in the Pakistan High Commission. Brig. Gen. Rahim had also met ISI Director General in London. Col. Sahabuddin in his confessional statements in the court and to the CID said, the ARY Group officials came to Dhaka and NSI DG Rahim held meeting with them at his personal Safe House. A meeting was also held at his residence. In that meeting Ulfa military chief Paresh Barua, two officials of ARY Group and officials of Pakistan High Commission were present.
A report said Dawood Ibrahim was also present in the meeting.
The involvement of Dawood Ibrahim in Bangladesh was deep rooted. Not only he was reported to have visited Khulna and Dhaka in 1995 but also held series of meetings with a highly influential businessman Tarique Rahman, his friend Giasuddin and the NSI head in April 2004 at Dubai hotel. ISI had arranged the meetings. 4
However, it was since early 2000 Dawood seemed to have strengthened its undercover syndicate in Bangladesh.
He had sent his own men to Bangladesh and created a network of his own some of whom are highly paid. The finance would be managed again by ARY group at the behest of ISI and money would flow via Western Union. Arrested Indian national Arif Hussain confessed that he had received Rs 1,5 000 taka from Dubai only a week before.
Bangladesh detectives are now readying to probe into the Western Union money transfer as well as some branches of National Bank role in the financial transactions.
Dawood’s clout in the Bangladesh politics extended far more than it was previously anticipated. Monirul Islam, Deputy Commissioner of Police (Detective Branch), said, names of several political leaders and influential people surfaced during interrogation.( Daud Merchant, Jahid Sheik and Arif Hussain).. We suspect that influential people maintain close links with Dawood to get his support in expanding their businesses in Dubai”.
Recent fall of LTTE is also a factor that should be considered. LTTE had once been carrying out arms smuggling and reports said they had also helped ULFA at a point of time with weaponry.
It was in late 1980, wrote Subir Bhamik of BBC and an expert on South Asia issues, that one Capt Rajan of LTTE met ULFA Leader and introduced him to a ‘arms dealer of Tamil origin in Southeast Asia , so that the ULFA could access the thriving weapons blackmarket in Southeast Asia...Some of the top arms dealers in Southeast Asia are people of Tamil origin — the Karikal Muslims. Karikal like Pondicherry was a French colony until 1952 and its large Muslim population settled down in French Indo-China in large numbers . Those who settled down in Cambodia had strong connections with the Khmer Rouge — and Prabhakaran used them for securing a steady supply of weapons and ammunition when Delhi sent the IPKF to Sri Lanka. Some of these people were introduced to Paresh Barua and through them the ULFA got access to fresh supplies of Chinese arms by these arms traders from Karikal”.5
Now, with the elimination of LTTE and a 30-year long bloody and heavily armed conflict coming to an end in Sri Lanka a void in the region’s illegal arms movement across the Bay of Bengal, Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea has also been created.
Who could now take the charge of the illegal weapons that were already out of factory – in China and other places- that could be supplied to NE militants as well Islamic terrorists of Afghanistan or Pakistan or say in Malaysia or for that matter in the Philippines?
Who could be middle men worth billions of dollars and a strong network under his command to handle massive arms consignments?
Certainly the only name that comes in mind is Dawood Ibrahim who has all these credentials and above all blessings of an establishment like ISI.
And from where the arms would come? The answer is : traditional supply source China.

Chinese arms route
As far as the arms smuggling in this region is concerned China is certainly the storehouse even though its government is not directly involved.
According to intelligence reports the arms supply mostly meant for the North East militants and Islamic elements of Bangladesh comes from Yunan province of China through a syndicate called ‘Black House’. The Black House erases the Chinese markings from the weaponry and then sends the consignments to Myanmar and Thailand. In fact, some other reports indicated that Chinese arms supply had been intensified after 1998 May Pokhran nuclear test by India.
World’s most prestigious defence think tank Jane’s Intelligence Review said China has replaced Cambodia and Thailand as the main supplier of weapons to insurgent groups in India’s Northeast and Myanmar.
It said, United Wa State Army (UWSA) rebel group in Myanmar acts as the middleman between Chinese arms manufacturers and insurgent groups in the Northeast, with most weapons routed through China’s Yunnan province.
This UWSA in eastern Myanmar, according to the JIR, receives the maximum volume of Chinese arms and has emerged as the principal supplier to Indian insurgent groups.
JIR pointed out that the arms seizure in 2001 in Myanmar at Tamu near Indian border revealed that the Chinese arms were meant for UNLF of Manipur and possibly other factions. 6
Assam’s IGP (Special Branch) Khagen Sarma had disclosed: Arms consignments through a strong smuggling network continue to come to the North-East from China. In 1997 a Chinese arms consignment was caught along the Bhutan border.
He then added: “There is no evidence of the direct involvement of the Chinese Government in the illegal arms trade even though some sort of support from the Government to the activities cannot be ruled out”. 7
The arms usually come from Yunnan to places where Kachin Independent Army guerrillas are active in Myanmar- mostly ‘at a place called Ruili’ 8 and from there it took no time to reach India or Bangladesh shores though on the way it crosses a route dominated by many other Burmese guerrillas.
It is, however, not only Myanmar but also Cambodia and Thailand that had remained traditional route for Chinese arms.

Most of the weapons that the NE militants once used were the firearms discarded by Khmer Rouge. Those arms were also mostly Chinese made. But after the fall of Pol Pot and Khmer Rouge weapons getting older, Thailand and Myanmar became the favored routes for the arms smugglers.
A Union Home ministry report said: “Thailand has a flourishing clandestine arms bazaar located in the Three Pagodas Pass area opposite Burma’s Karen state and along the Ranong coast adjoining Tenasserim division along the country’s coastline.9
In all the places it so happened that the Chinese arms supplied by the mysterious Black House are routed through Thailand and Myanmar with the help of guerrillas belonging to various outfits to Indian border or to Bangladesh ports. While the Burmese guerrillas help transportation the arms supply are done by the criminal syndicates like D-Company or often by terrorist organization like LTTE.
Now, in absence of LTTE -as it appears -it would be Dawood Ibrahim who might like to get involved with more intensity in the trade with his ‘Eastern headquarters’ located somewhere in Bangladesh-may be Dhaka or Chittagong. After all he would have ready market for his wherewithal and hardware among the NE militants-ULFA, NSCN, PLA, UNLF , DHD, NLFT, ATTF etc Islamic Terrorists in Pakistan and Afghanistan and certainly those Bangladesh’s own Talibani elements.
One more point that cannot be ignored is how openly the Bangladesh authorities are giving away the details of the D Company arrests and confessions to the media. This is certainly not a usual practice especially in case of such a sensational matter. Is it an attempt on the part of the Bangladesh establishment to put the ISI and Dawood Ibrahim blueprint in wide open and jeopardize the entire game plan?

Source: 1A. Media reports from India and Bangladesh available in internet. 1.The Fulcrum Of Eastern Evil by M K Dhar, 2. The Daily Star and other Bangladeshi newspapers available in internet, 3.China emerging as main source of arms to N-E rebels: Jane’s Review By Manu Pubby, 4.Bangladesh: BNP- Jamaat Web -China Connection By Bhaskar Roy. 5. Paresh Baruah should learn from Prabhakaran’s death by Subir Bhaumik, 6.China emerging as main source of arms to N-E rebels: Jane’s Review By Manu Pubby, 7. The Sentinel,(November 9, 2006),
8.Insurgent groups in N-E getting help from China? By Indrani Bagchi.

Written on 11-06-2009

DRAINS IN PERILOUS PARADISE

By Manas Paul

Subrata Rana first took me to drains.

"I want to see your drains first. Wherever I go dirty drains are always my area of priority", he said.
I was flabbergasted. This young man must be crazy. As an IITian he had learned how to make nuclear bombs but switched over to less lethal subject of development economics in Stanford and then worked all over the world for various organizations and foreign governments with various assignments. He had formed part of the audience to Fidel Castro for three hours, sitting on a field amidst thousands of Havana smoking 'Campasinos' under the blazing Cuban sun and then spent some years in the Philippines consulting world leaders about food security in South Asia. Subrata as part of foreign university delegations helped foreign governments in developing tourism industry and now when he is in Agartala his priority here is not Ujjayanta Palace or Neer Mahal but 'drains'!

Never in my wildest dream could I imagine someone might ask for such a dirty destination on his first visit to a place.
He must have captured my befuddled mind.

"Have you ever noticed drains always get swollen in between 8.30 am to 10 am in the morning?" he had asked. 'No, I did not', I said and immediately decided next morning I must have a fresh and focussed look at my neighborhood drains.

"You know drain water management is an important subject nowadays. You can use some specific fishes for cleaning up the drain water and then recycle it for human use once again. You do not have to depend solely on your Howrah river" he said and, perhaps sensing that I was not fully convinced, added: Do you know there is a similar project in Kolkata too". The smart guy knew anything with a reference to Kolkata was-as it still is-bound to impress an Agartalite like me.
Frankly, I knew experts were always talking about importance of water but they used similar sounding phrases like 'ground water scarcity' sort of things. But I was unsure that I had ever heard of people talking exactly about drain water management.

More so, I was actually not at all aware of so many features of drains that he spelt out referring now and then to some International treaties and their implications for countries and governments. I never felt drains were my subjects of interest. I was born and brought up in Kamalpur with only two thin road side drains running straight up to the Dhalai river that demarcated Indo-Bangla border in the North with clean water that never seemed moving. Through out my childhood the drains which remained stand still –except for when there were too much of rain or flood-would always have lots of playful 'lati' fish and elusive 'dhora saap'. I never saw 'lati' fish cleaning the water and no child in sub divisional town would ever give any importance to those simple, non-poisonous 'dhora saap' -the snake that cannot create a hood and is always scared of 'lathis'.
But in Agartala the only curious thing about the drains that stuck me was not the absence of those 'lati' fish or 'dhora saap', but how the wide stretch of drain that passes along Colonel Choumuhani to Bidur Karta Choumuhani gets lost all of a sudden.

But then, in Agartala drains are always lost.
Some old timers once told me boats used to cruise on Katakhaal straight from Akhaura up to Kansari Patti market right through the Agartala city. The bridges at Fire Brigade Choumuhani and RMS were at that time constructed in arch pattern so that boats could pass easily under. But those were the days of Maharajas.
I often wonder if Katakhaal had not been stripped off of its old grandeur and people had not eaten up its banks, Agartala might have still looked like, well, Venice?
It did not require an engineering degree to know that when the wide drain in Jagannath Bari road narrows down and slips somewhere underground at Bidur Karta Choumuhani, it spills over and creates water logging with slightest rainfall. But that is the experience everywhere in our Agartala.

None can complain as the city planners are expected to be more educated and responsible. They certainly kept in mind that the encroachers are also taxpayers.
I also used to wonder who could be the brilliant boy of Agartala municipality that came up with the idea of dumping all those thick black and stinking drain-mud by the side of the main thoroughfares. This mud-heap slithers down the road, paints whoever passes by right from school children to sleek vehicles black before drying up and sending dusts filled with trillions and trillions of bacteria into the air. Or just simply finding it's way back to the place again from where it had once been scooped up. I do not know what AMC Chairperson Mr. Sankar Das thinks of this practice, but I can certainly imagine our good old Maharajas who had given the charge of their beautiful city to us would have died of instant heart attack seeing all these black mud on road.

My friend Tapas Bhattacharjee, an engineer, who takes interest in everything under the sun once told me such an ugly practice of senseless drain waste dumping on road, could not be thought of in any civilized society.

I had to agree. But, in any case, since I am a true Agartalite I never complained.

But, my stint with Subrata did stimulate interest in me about drains in Agartala. And slowly I developed my own ideas about drains. Now I believe drains could well be called a true mirror of Agartala. Drains reflect its social development, its idiosyncrasies, its idiocy and certainly how the Agartalites want to live in their, can I say, 'perilous paradise'. Drains indeed can give you some ideas as to how your immediate environment and how your neighbours are changing.
Let, me explain.

All say, and I agree too, Tripura is on the fast track of development.
There are many indicators to gauge the rate of development invented by the wise head economists. But many would agree with me that these are all very confusing figure-mappings and socio-economic indexes crowded by more complicated mathematics that ultimately make no sense to common people like me with special dislike for numbers.
So, forget figures, go to drains. Next time during your morning walk look at the drains or the space in between road and the drains down your locality. What will you see? The drains, or its sides, are now littered with black paper boxes with golden letters that read 'Blenders' Pride' or those green and round hard-paper containers that carry 'Signature' or announce 'Vat 69'. Or, those 100 exotic looking Pipers peeping out innocuously from the Municipality installed garbage bins?

My encounters with brand names like 'Vat 69' or 'Johnny Walker' commenced when I became a film-buff as the galaxy of heroes like Dharmendra, Rajendra Kumar, Amitabh et al and villains such as good old Premnath, Pran, Danny etc gulping down full bottles of exotic liquor at one go was a familiar sight. If the Hero was a frustrated young man or ditched lover, or an angry Amitabha Bachhan, he would gulp down the entire whisky right from the bottle somewhere on the road driving a car or riding a Rajdoot motorbike as a matter of divine right.
Initially I used to feel intrigued at the orgy of drinking full bottles at one go but gradually realization dawned on me that one had to suspend disbelief and skepticism for the time being before stepping into the semi-dark ambience of cinema halls showing Bollywood blockbusters. After all, even in the age of internet Bollywood loyalists remain steadfast in their conviction that their heroes and villains remain capable of superhuman feats and it is sacrilege to call there on-screen exploits in question.

Now after 25 or 30 years I have in my area not only noticed 'Black and White' with two small wooly pups, or discarded 'Teachers' but also found brands like Chivas Regal and even uncommon single malt 'Glenfiddich' and 'Singleton' quietly lying beneath roadside trees. There are also bottles of Mexican or Brazilian Tequila. Gone are the days of your 'Director' with his Special offer. The only brand that seems to have survived the invasion of aggressive new names is ancient, unruffled and saintly sober 'Old Monk'.
And what does that mean?

It certainly means your neighbour does not mind to spend some good money for his whisky. He can afford it. He is rich, he is prosperous.
If the costly whisky bottles- finished to the last drop -can give you some idea about the financial capabilities of your neighbourhood, look at the discarded Maggie packets.
The Maggie, Chips or sweet packets are simply the silent announcement of what your neighbor's son takes in his Tiffin hours in school- not like your pocket full of 'badam bhaza' that had been sufficient to keep you going through all the caning in classes and bruising in play fields.

And those empty Herpic near the drains? Does not it say all about your neighbour's sense of hygiene?

One may argue, the littered bottles on roadside also speak aloud of the grade of your neighbour's social responsibility. But do not blame him. You cannot expect with stomach full of whisky at night he could approach the stinking hells called Waste dumping bins that the AMC parked in crowded city corners or say, near Women' College'.
Look at the positive side, someone had told me. It is all about attitude. Would you not agree that those costly bottles, those Maggie packets or Herpic were not there near your local drains some 25 years ago?

Are we not improving- in our, as I said, 'perilous paradise'?

Written on January 29, 2009

BLESSED ARE THE MILITANTS
By Manas Paul

Blessed are the militants. Literally. If you do not really believe it ask Jogendra Debbarma alias Joshua Debbarma alias Bubagra Barnabbas Borok- the former Chief Advisor of the NLFT. Joshua had direct communication with Jesus Christ with whom he converses on various important topics every night and it was actually the Lord Himself who guided him to the path of militancy and asked him to convert Hindu tribals at gun point. At least that is what he claimed. To strengthen his claim - which might have sounded preposterous even to some of his semi-literate bunch of comrades in arm- Joshua went a step farther changing his name to 'Bubagra' which in kokbork is synonymous with Lord or King! Joshua's point was that he happened to be the reincarnation of Hamtorpha- the 118th Tripura king who ruled the state around 580 ad and as such on his human entity all the divinity were showered upon. Still you are not convinced. Ok, let us read out a part of NLFT's statement issued on November 8, 2001: "In 1998 D Zoshua wanted to leave the party for not being accepted as the King of Tripura on the basis of his claim as the reincarnation of King Hamtorpha. When all the arrangements were made to send him back home he refused to leave the party on the pretext that he was told by Christ that he must continue in the party". It was Barnabbas (Joshua a ka Zoshua) himself who came up with the notion that he was in contact with God as he was the man chosen by Christ". It is, however, a different story that ultimately NLFT Biswamohan faction chased out the Lord's chosen fellow from the outfit with Nayanbashi Jamatia. Tripura militancy had always thrown up many an interesting facet. And in the list of such curious characters of the Tripura militancy the latest inclusion is 'retirement' benefit for the militants. The retirement benefit, however, does not come from the militants' ill begotten coffer but from the government in the form of 'rehabilitation package'. Militancy in Tripura, as popularly acknowledged by now, is for all intents and purposes a flourishing business syndicate. But not many would certainly have ever expected that the militants would agree to this fact until Monday when All Tripura Tiger Force came out in open with a statement that Ratna alias Michael Debbarma and Rajani alias Joel Debbarma were asked to go for 'retirement'. The statement said Ratna was sick and Rajani's wife had indulged in 'anti-constitutional' activities affecting the out fit. They with their wives left the outfit in consultation with the senior militant leaders and surrendered before the police. The police as usual claimed 'there was split and the militants were frustrated'. Expectedly they would now be entitled for 'rehabilitation' package. After all, each of them had reward to the tune of Rs 2 lakh and more on his head. Both of them were responsible for killing of several innocent law abiding people including children, women and elderly people in several places including Panchabati, Singicherra, Bazar Colony etc. It is, indeed, unique with the business of blood spilling militancy in Tripura that when many an educated youth in normal life finds it hard to get a meaningful employment, the people who killed, kidnapped and raped would get government support to start a new life. They slaughter innocent law abiding people for years together and all of a sudden as they think of 'peace' and seek to work for the 'betterment of the people' they become eligible for 'rehabilitation' at the people's money. Look at Mr. Bijoy Hrangkhawl or Mr Lalit Debbarma. Both of them wanted to be 'President' or something like that of 'Independent Tripura'. So they led their outfits to commit mindless violence for years expecting that would be able to drive out the 'foreigners'. And one fine morning we are told that they became the beacon of peace- with sufficient political patronage, of course. Somebody might argue -the end justifies the means. The would-be 'presidents of Independent Tripura' were happy to become a salaried 'chairman' of some obscure corporation. TNV supremo Mr. Hrangkhawl somehow could pull on to access higher position and become a people's representative elected by popular mandate. One of the ATPLO members Khagendra Jamatia made it higher to the ministerial position. But, where is Mr. Lalit Debbarma- the president of All Tripura Tribal Force? Last time I heard of him was some 10 years ago when his name came to light in connection with a heist in which Rs five lakh had been looted from a jeep. The booty and SLR bullets were recovered from his official residence. At that time also he was 'chairman' of the corporation. Despite the fact that such recovery from someone's residence instantly invites arrests our guardians of law conveniently failed to do precious little to bring him to book. Ostensibly, Mr Debbarma had the political blessings. The least is told about another leader Nayanbashi is better. The former TSR jawan, who could make it big, even went to 'Raj Bhawan for a courtesy call'. He ultimately vanished into oblivion. Nayanbashi wanted to sign the 'peace agreement' with an assurance that he should be made 'Chief Minister of Tripura' with the entire fund for tribal welfare in his personal account. As expected, the government was neither in the mood to elevate Nayanbashi to the level of Lal Denga, nor to fatten his bank balance. Nayanbashi with his militancy credentials, nevertheless, was blessed with four wives in underground. His last, reported marriage was with Tahera Begum, daughter of Bangladeshi dacoit Abu Mian. If these are personal achievements of the militant leaders, some of their cohorts had their own interesting antics too. For example Aranyapada Jamatia, whose area of operation was Takarjala area, was evidently fascinated by Gabbar Singh. Aranyapada- known as Borok Raja- happens to be the only militant in the annals of insurgency in these parts of the world who rode a horse. He would lead his murderous band riding a horse. His horse would escape with him soon after the attacks or extortion. But one day his horse developed cold feet and did not run. Aranyapada was arrested and so was his horse. The court sent Aranyapada to jail and gave the horse to the custody of forest department. The horse was taken to Sipahijala Zoo. Next time, when you visit Sipahijala find out Nabalak Mian, who runs a tea stall at the gate. Nabalak Mian applied to the forest department for the custody of the horse so that he could earn some money using it for children's joy ride. Forest department was more than happy as they had found horse in the zoo of no use. But apparently the militant's horse did not like his new job sans any excitement and Nabalak Mian had to hand the horse back to forest department once again. Written on Jan 6, 2009

Funky monkey with cool, cool specs

By Manas Paul

They sport specs and they live on tree tops cooling off all the day and making incomprehensible noises. And whenever any one approaches , they just take flight to dense forest. A typical monekey buisness, indeed.

Quite natural : Because they are the 'bespectacled' primates whom the scientists call Phayre's Langur (Trachypithecus phayrei), found in Tripura. These small and agile langurs got the name Spectacle Monkey or 'Chashma bandar' for their striking feature-- white rings encircling the eyes giving them an appearance of being bespectacled. They are also known as 'Dhudhmukhi' because of a pale white patch surrounding their mouth. These are State Animal of Tripura and according to researchers they are found only in this state and some parts of adjoining Assam and Mizoram .

Though male and female all wear "specs", they do not like the same "frame", of course. While white patch- frame around the eyes of females are 'old fashioned' traingular or cone shaped, the ocular markings in the males are circular or elliptical. However, as if like humans during infancy, the specs are absent. When they grow up the 'specs' also develop around their ever restive eyes.
Darker brown on the dorsal side with a varying degree of greyish gloss over the back and a ventral surface of white or whitish yellow, these monkeys like their 'specs' also boast of longer tail about 65 to 80 cms. which is blacker at the base and lighter distally. Body length 55 to 65 cms. and weight is about 6 to 9 kg and . Mainly folivores, these arboreals, always in a group of 8-22, prefer to hang on trees coming down to earth only when they need to negotiate with tree canopy, and well of course, if they want to have a 'walk'.

Researchers say, three South East Asian sub species of T. phayrei are distributed in India , Bangladesh, Myanmar, China, Thailand, Laos and Vietnam . According to Dr Atul K Gupta, IFS , who has done extensive reserach on the primates here, in the country Phayer's langurs are confined to three north eastern states Tripura, adjoining Assam and Mizoram only, the largest population being in Tripura. It is highly likely that Phayer's langurs might have migrated to Cachar ( Assam) and Dampa wild life sanctuary in Mizoram from Tripura only in recent past. These areas are close to Tripura and connected by dense ever green forest. But since of late the forest cover is being lost the migration seem to have also stopped. The idea that these bespectacled langurs were orginally from Tripura is strengthened for the fact that despite having the similar habitat, presence of these primates were reported. from nowhere in the region which does not have any land connection.

Even in Tripura though the Chashma Bandar is reported from all over the state, they are mainly found in South district than the other three --north, west and Dhalai. Dr Gupta during his survey of the primates in 1989 found 899 Phayer's langurs from 56 groups in the state. If the figures of Siphajiala Gumti wild life are included then the total number of these primates would be more than 1000. In Assam only four groups were noticed, one each from Nagargena, Damcherra, Choraibakh and Manipuri-chit, all in Cachar, according toan official report. In Mizoram the langur's presence was noticed only from Dampa Wild Life sanctuary. The groups of Phayer's langurs with 8 to 22 members each having their own home range, seem to be very male dominant family. Usually a group comprises of one adult male, 3 to 6 adult females ( females are larger ones) and sub adults, juveniles and infants. Mother monkey gives birth to her golden brown baby between November and March and she devotes almost all the day for rearing the baby. The father prefers to either jumping or yawing away his day on tree top and , if alarmed, makes calls sounding similar to 'kha kha kha' . Dr Gupta says : these primates have four different types of calls expressing different meanings in their social life.

Although the Phayer's langurs have their definite home range they do not mind if other sympatric species like capped langur, rhesus macaque, slow lorris or hoolock gibbon come to their homes. Study on these langurs find they mainly feed on leaves of koroi ( Albizzia procere), Harish ( A. stipulata), acacia, Krishnachura (Delonix regia),

This Spectacle Monkey considered as 'vulnerable' with total conservation priotiy rating at "five". In Tripura the state government has established Gomati wild life protected area special for this primate's conservation.
Jayanta Bhattacharjee, a keen monkey watcher says, for conservation risk of this species, Phayer's langur has been placed under Schedule 1 of the Wild Life protection Act 1972/1991. But he feels it is high time that the species is identified as "highly endangered" since its population is decreasing steadily following destruction of its habitat.

Written on April 30, 2007