By Kaushik Phukan, Seattle
The car stopped and I woke up. All around it was dark.
I looked outside. The thin beam of light from the car’s headlights pierced through the blanket of darkness. It was drizzling, and we have stopped at a place far from the human habitation!
The screaming silence of the place woke my wife and she asked me, “What happened?”
Before I could say anything, the driver replied, “There seems to be some problem with the car. It just stopped without giving any warning. We are lucky that there were no cars around.”
‘Now, we would be lucky if any vehicle passes by,’ I thought. I did not say thing because I could feel that my wife was a little scared.
“It will be alright,” I said to assure her and calm her fears. She nodded and gave me a nervous smile.
The driver’s helper turned back and said, “I think there might be problem with the battery. I will push the car. Why don’t you two step out of the car for a moment?”
Although my wife was a little apprehensive, she could see that there was no other alternative.
They tried for sometime and then gave up.
‘I think we need a mechanic,’ the driver said.
I was angry with them for not checking for problems before embarking on the journey, and hence I snapped, ‘Where will we get a mechanic in this godforsaken place?’
We stood there in silence and looked around.
‘I see a light out there,’ the driver said after sometime.
We looked towards the direction he pointed, and could see a light burning in the distance.
‘You guys stay inside the car. I will go and find out if it’s someone’s house or a hotel. We might get a mechaince there.’ Saying so the driver started walking towards the light.
We got inside the car and sat silently in the darkness.
After a few moments but what then seemed like eternity, the driver returned.
“It’s a small tea shop. Sir and madam, both of you can stay there for sometime and have tea. The shopkeeper told me that there is a garage some distance away. We will go and get a mechanic. The shopkeer even asked me to take his bicylce so that we can reach the garage quickly,” the driver said with a smile.
They pushed the car towards the shop, while my wife and I walked silently behind them.
We reached the shop faster than we thought. It was a small one-room shop. There were three chairs and a table towards the one corner of the shop, while the kitchen was in another corner of the room.
An old man, apparently the owner of the shop was waiting outside. The old dhoti and the torn blanket that adorned him were proof enough to say that the shop was not doing well.
He welcomed us inside the shop, slowly lighted the wooden stove and found a small saucepan to prepare tea.
The driver and his helper got on the bicycle and went to fetch the mechanic.
The old man walked towards us and sat down on the empty chair.
“Not many people stop at my shop. Today is my lucky day that you guys stepped into my shop,” he said with a smile brightening up his thin and tired face.
We looked at him and smiled.
Before I could ask anything, my wife enquired, “What place is this?”
He smiled and replied, “Pothorughat”.
The hissing of the boiling water signaled that the tea was almost ready. He poured the tea in three small cups, and placed it on the small table in front of us.
As we took the tea cups, he asked, “Have you heard about Pothorughat?”
I smiled akwardly, and replied, “I do not know much about Pothorughat. And anyway, my wife is not from Assam; hence she had not heard about the place.”
“Have you heard about Jallianwalabagh?”
We nodded.
He let out a sigh, “That is the sad part; everyone knows about Jallianwalabagh massacre but most of the people do not know what happened at Pothorughat!”
He took a sip and then asked, “Do you know which year the Jallianwalabagh massacre happened?”
“It happened in 1919,” my wife replied.
“And the Porthorughat massacre happened much before that, in the year 1894,” he replied without missing a beat.
“In addition, it was a major revolt against the British after the revolt of 1857. And it shook the British Empire,” he added.
We got curious and I requested, “Please tell us more about it. Did anyone from your family took part in it?”
“Every men who was alive in 1894 took part in it. My grandfather and his brothers took part. He lost all his brothers, but he somehow managed to escape. He painted the live picture of the Pothorughat revolt for me.”
“Assam was already under the British. In addition to the various suppressive and exploitive means to collect money from the people, a new and increased agricultural tax was imposed on the people. It angered the peasants, because with the new tax it would be difficult for them to survive.”
“The poor peasants rose in the revolt. Various raizor mels (people’s meetings) were organized to protest against the British and their exploitive ways. People of all caste and communities took part in it. The British tried their best to divide the people based on their religion, but it only strengthened the unity.”
“Seeing no other way, a British brigade under Lt. Singer was sent to disperse a peaceful raizor mel. It angered the gathered people so much that they fought with the British troops empty handed; and in the fight Lt. Singer was killed and the rest of the troops had to beat a hasty retreat.”
“This event shook the very core of the British Empire. They never thought that a few measly peasants would be bold enough to defeat the British military and that too empty-handed. They knew that if the news reached the rest of India, it would encourage poeple to fight against the British; after all the Assamese peasants showed that the British troops were not invincible. The British wanted to teach a hard lesson as a reminder to others that they should not revolt against them.”
“Another raizor mel was called for at Pothorughat. It was to be a non-violent meeting, where besides the protest and a call was to be made to restrain the people from further violence. The British Commissioner came to know about it and dispatched a large brigade of troops”
“Just as the meeting began, the troops surrounded the field and started firing. When they ran out of bullets, they started killing the people with their bayonet. It did not end there, the nearby villages were attacked; the villagers were tortured and killed and their properties were destroyed.”
“The official death toll at the raizor mel attack was 194. But in reality, many more were killed; as said, thousands of people gathered there and nobody came out alive. In addition, nobody had the counts of the villagers killed as the part of the repression.”
He ended the story, and looked outside. A stream of tears flowed down his old eyes.
We also sat in silence, not knowing what to say or how to react.
“The car is ready,” said the driver. We were so engrossed in the story that we did not realize when the mechanic reached there and fixed the car.
We got up slowly. I paid the mechanic and took out some money to pay the old man.
The old man refused to take the money and said, “You are my guests. I cannot take money from my guests.”
As we walked towards the car, the old man said, “Do you think the world will ever hear the cries of the Revolt of Pothorughat?”
The question was just a statement of despair!
As car moved, a gush of wind swayed the trees around; and for a moment I felt as if I heard the cries of the martyrs of Pothorughat asking me, “Will the world ever hear about us?”
Note: The account of Pothogughat revolt was as heard from the old man, hence the author do not claim it to be true.
Kaushik Phukan’s recent novel Meera is in the market now. He is working on a new novel based on the revolt of 1894. Any information or inputs would be welcomed at kaushikphukan@gmail.com.
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