Mahajan Bari - A story of our family

 Narrator: The story is narrated by my uncle Radesh Ranjan Deb; F/O Nikita Deb

I will start by detailing about my family. 

Our family was known well because of my grandfather. His name is Pandav Ram Deb and was known as a Zamindar. Our ancestral place of dwelling was called Bari in Bengali. 

Back then, the condition of our family was very good. Baba was the eldest of all his siblings. They were four brothers, four sisters and three step-sisters.

It was also known as Mahajan Bari or Zamindar Bari.

Our family got well known after Nouka puja (boat worship) was performed by him. This was the first Nouka puja in the Sylhet district. Lacs of people as far as from the capital Dhaka had come to see it and were also fed.

Pandabram was a known for his valour, also a big miser and a well-known stubborn. He was very much respected and saluted by all on his way. He never put anything except a Loincloth (Langoti/ Langti). A langti is like a very small dhoti wrapped around the waist. Back then, to visit the town, one had to cross the Manu river and there was no bridge. People could cross using a boat. To save money, he used to swim instead. And did the same while returning. The river used to get leased out for one, two, or sometimes for ten years and the lessee’s boat used to charge people for crossing them.

One day when asked for money to cross the river, he scrapped off his langti, put on his head so that it does not get wet and crossed the river.

Pandabram continued this way till one day he was withheld by the lessee. This hurt his prestige, self-esteem so much that he went home, talked to his brothers about this. They were three brothers. His brothers were Maniram, Tutaram. They said that it is his matter and left it to him. 

Pandabram enquired about the lease renewal date. On the day of the auction, he barged at the place of auctioning. He took loads of coins with the help of human carriers. Those days, coin was in use, unlike paper notes. So he had to get it carried by human carriers. 

He made a scene there and told that whatever be the money needed, the lease must be given to him. They then entered into an agreement and he purchased the lease. That made it free for our village.

While it was free only for our village, but people from the other villages used to cross for free saying that either they belonged to the Mahajan Bari (also known as Pandabram’s/ Pandu’s Bari) or from the same village. 

Pandabram was also a big thrasher. He thrashed anyone with whom he had a face off. He thrashed his sons with cane, sticks and so on to his heart’s content. And when he was served milk in a pan, he used to insert his fingers to check the amount (by height) of milk served. He used to throw it up in the air in fury if it was below his standard measurement. The entire Bari was so big that we could not see from one end to the other. There used to be many Chulhas (traditional cooking stove) in in length. People were made to sit in big bamboo and food was served for such a big family. It was so big that when my Boudi visited there, she went to our pukur and asked someone there if they stayed here. They all laughed out at her that she isn’t even aware who all are from the family. And it was obvious. It was such a big family. 

In Shillong, every Doiwalas (Curd vendors) used to tell us in shock “Oh! You are from the Mahajan Bari of Maulvi Bazar”. They knew us well since they were employed by us as raiyat. Once a person visited us in Shillong. He was not ready to sit on the chair beside Borda. He had also worked for us as Raiyat. But Borda had to tell him mockingly that this isn’t Desher Bari. The Raiyats were bound to our family. They were given free food by us in exchange for their labor.

Since the time of Pandav Ram, we also had 36 raiyat or Ghulam families at our disposal for our domestic needs such as working at the field, hair-cutting and so on. We had purchased them. Those by the caste Paul, Dhoopa, Napit, Ghosh were all our Ghulams. Those from our family were not charged when we visited the town for hair cutting. Many villages worked as riyat for us. Buffalo sacrifice (Mahish bali) was prevalent in our Bari for fulfilment of mannat (wish). The last was done in 1975. It was later replaced with goat Bali. And now even that has stopped due to prohibition.

Our dwelling place comprised of seven families, totalling about 90 members living together within the same boundary wall. We all shared the same ancestry. The dwelling area was covered on 7 bhiga land (1 bhiga = 3720 sq. ft). It was surrounded by 6 feet high brick walls on all 4 sides. It was so big. We could walk and play along its heights. There were 3 gates. Outside the walls, it was surrounded by another 7 bhigas of land cultivated with vegetables.

On the front of the Bari, there were two fisheries or locally caller pukur; one towards the east of the size of 7 bhigas. It had 3 ghats with sofa like concrete. There were 4 temples at each of its edges. There were three main roads leading to our house.

Towards the front, near the pukur, we had our big Durga mandap where every year Durga puja celebration is held. The Durga idol was immersed at our pukur only.

At the back of the dwelling place there was another pukur for washing clothes and utensils. To the south was another pukur. That was for the cows and buffaloes to drink water.

To the North was another Pukur. That was meant for buffaloes to stay submerged in water.

Apart from this 21 bhigas, adjoining this, we purchased another such 7 baris and 7 pukurs, one pukur with each bari of the same size.

I will now revisit my childhood days of East Pakistan.

Durga Puja was hosted at our house every year. For that, we used to go out and spend whole night in collecting flowers. We even visited houses at other villages to collect flowers. If someone objected us, we used to shut them and collect flowers from their garden. This was a lot of fun. Rest of the night we spent in dancing.

I was then five or six years old. Once we had visited the town Pujo with Ma and others from our big family.  Our house was beside the town. I was very young then. We were hopping the Puja Pandals among the crowd. All of a sudden, I was lost and got separated from all. I was nowhere to be found. I was very scared then. We could not trace each other in the crowd. I kept looking for them, but could find none. I was encountered by some folks our village and they took me back home. But I could not see Ma and others. They had not yet arrived. They too searched for me desperately and when they could no longer trace me, returned home and saw that I had already arrived. All these incidents and including my childhood games, my playmates, friends are still fresh in my memory

Apart from Durga puja, many other Pujas including Govardhan Puja were held and hosted at our house all through the year. Back then, the condition of our family was very good. 

As children, we all played and go to and return from school together. We were known as Mahajan Bari’s Punga (troublemakers). There was one incident that make me laugh even today. We used to go to school by the riverside. And alongside the river, the potter lived, make clay utensils and put it on display for sale. As we passed though, during our return from school, we used to throw stones and break those clay utensils. We had to run as they would chase us. It was hell lot of fun.

Then one day, everything turned upside down in all our lives. We and many from the village had gathered in the river to catch fish. Suddenly our attention was shifted by the sound of the siren. None of us could make it out what was going on. Everyone started running and in fear and panic rushed to their home. We then came to know that West Pakistan Army came to East Pakistan and was carrying havoc and massacre. They were carrying onslaught and shooting people on their way. They were barging into houses and kept shooting the male members and tortured the female members. It came all of a sudden that no one knew what should be done. The local Muslim boys were guiding the Army to the Hindu houses. They were burning down the Hindu houses and molesting their female members. 

Then one day, there was a mike announcement ordering to build bunkers at our houses. This was for us to take shelter when we hear the fighter jets flying over. We also constructed bunkers at our house.

The villagers were always in panic and fear because no one knew when the Army would attack the houses, burn them and carry onslaught with the members; torture and molest its female members. 

Days passed like this and none could get sleep at night because of all these in mind.  Everyone had to stay awake and guard the house and its members. 

Whenever the Army attacked the houses along with the help of the local Muslim boys, people had to run away from their house in the darkness of the night. They could return only after the army had left. This is how days after days and nights after nights had to be spent.

When the army could not find the male members of the houses, they used to torture the female members. And the Muslim villagers used to loot our houses and then burn it down. 

There were always some houses with the incidences of their female members being ill-treated by the invaders. Daughters were raped in front of the parents, sister in front of the brother, wife in front of her husband.

The male members were tied and made to stand in queue. They were then shot to death. And some were tied and thrown to water. Many were also tied together, poured with petrol and burnt. This is how they carried out the rampage. 

Some of the corpses were even eaten by the fox.

This is how the property and all the wealth of the Hindus of East Pakistan were looted, their female members raped and tortured. Wives were widowed and people were killed in lakhs.

Whenever the Army barged into the houses, the males and females used to flee from their houses. There were incidences, when in panic, mothers used to pick the pillow by mistake and run with it while leaving the child or infant behind. On reaching the road, she used to discover that her son or child has been left behind.  This is how all the torture, pain and sorrow was inflicted whereby children lost their parent and parents their children. Many children were rendered homeless and without parents.

All these forced the Hindus to abandon their wealth, land, property and all their belonging and flee for their life and take shelter in India as a beggar. At our neighboring house, the wife was mass tortured and raped in front of his husband which led to her death. 

That period during the 1971 Bangladesh War was and still remains the worst day in the life of the Hindus.

The Army had also barged into our house with the help of the local Muslim boys. With the situation getting worse, one day some members of our family arranged a truck and decided to flee to India. It was in 1970, after Durga Puja, during the Nov-Dec winter period, when the water level of the river subsides. The children and the female members from every house were made to board the truck to flee to India. My Choto Kaka(Younger Uncle), Kaki, their son, me and one of my brothers joined those in the truck. Many carriages started together. After covering a long distance our trucks were stopped at the Indo-Pak border, now known as Indo-Bangladesh border. All our vehicles were stopped. After making us wait for long, our truck was permitted in the night to cross over. Many trucks and people were stuck in the road at the border. After getting the permission at night, we entered India. We reached the railway station in India and for the time being settled there. It was so crowded that there wasn’t enough place to sleep. We spent the day without any food. The following day, we boarded the train from that station and went to my Kaka’s house after spending hours in the train. 

My Dada came and took us to the Refugee camp. But my Father, mother, Grandmother and one of my elder brothers stayed back at our Bari in East Pakistan. They could not give up the attachment for their Bari, cattle, cows, buffaloes, and all the belongings. 

Our condition was not good at the camp. The supplied ration was not enough for our upkeep. The refuges had to go out of the camp looking for work and do menial work and had to work from house to house. None had any money, and whatever was provided at the camp was not enough. Those few who had got some gold and jewelry with them, they had to sell it off to meet the pangs of their hunger. All they had carried, had to be sold off to arrange food. This is how people spent their lives at the camp. 

My Ma, Baba, grandma remained at our Bari. One night the Muslims entered our house accompanied by the army. It was then that all those at our Bari had to flee for their life. They looted, leaving nothing and burnt everything down. With no hope and reason to stay back, they were finally forced to flee to India. 

Without any food, day and night they kept walking barefooted finally reached India after many days. We were then at the camp. After some months the Indian Army attacked and fought the Pakistani Army, raged war against them and freed Bangladesh. People then started returning to Bangladesh. 

The Razakars (private militia) helped the Pakistani Army to carry out further rampage and in planting the bombs.

The Hindu boys of East Pakistan were picked from the camp by the Indian Army, trained and sent to East Pak along with them to fight the war against the West Pakistani Army invaders. These trained men under the label of Mukti Fauj used to assist and help the Indian Army in the war against the West Pakistani Army.

Finally, the Indian Army won the 10 month war and liberated Bangladesh. In 1971, the refugees at the camp started returning to their Birthplace. As I was returning with my Ma, Baba along with others in train, we could see the skeleton on both the sides. The skull and all body parts were all scattered all around.

Now I will narrate with the sequence of events that occurred in my life.

Unto this day, the reminiscence of my childhood still reverberates strongly in my mind. It causes me immense pain to reflect on the day I had to leave behind my Ma and Baba at our ancestral home. It was then a part of East Pakistan and I had to then move an unknown place in India. I was then around 10 to 11 years old. 

As I was departing with my youngest uncle, Aunt, cousin; my mother held me tight and kept weeping loudly. Even today, I feel the pain for my mother. That day I could not realize that I will be left to live life as an orphan.

Only after I left did I realize how much I loved her. Since that day, I was living in constant grief for parting from my Ma and Baba.

He sent me to his 2nd younger brother’s house with the hope that I will be groomed well with some education.

But things didn’t go as per the expectation. Baba had sent me for studies, but he could least imagine that my uncle would engage me at the fields and the chores.

My uncle had no son. Baba must have hoped that I would get better attention in terms of studies at my Uncle’s house than I would get at my home.

The first few days was all smooth. But gradually I was pulled into various kinds of work.  I was made to work at their fields, their house and had to do many such work that I had never done in my life.

I was then admitted to a school. I was awakened at 5 in the morning, sent to the field with the plough accompanied by other field workmen. I could return only after tilling the land, given food that I had to hastily eat and rush for school with my cousin. We studied at the same school.

During the harvest period, the nights were engaged at trampling. It was the laborious process of separating the rice grains. So there was no way I could get a chance to study at night.

There was no way to relax, since when it was not the harvest period, vegetables were grown. At those time, I was engaged in growing vegetables that used up all my day. My uncle was abusive and constantly forced me to work. I was inflicted with tortures that I kept bearing it out all.  I never spoke about all these to anyone.  During this period and phase of my life, my eldest brother, whom I called Borda lived in Shillong. I could never get a chance to inform him of the deplorable condition I was living in. I was never given nor could ever get the chance to write him a letter. If I had ever stealthily written a letter addressing it to him, they would search it out and get it. They would look out for it in my shirt and pant pockets and abused me to any extent when it was found. I bore a lot of suffering in my life. My uncle made me do any work that he willed. Every night, I lay down at my bed and wept and kept thinking of Ma and Baba. I used to cry out for Ma as I laid lonely in my bed leaving my pillow soaked in tears. All my nights were spent crying. I spent long enough crying because of my condition then.  

My uncle used to make me write letter to Borda. He made me read out all that I had written. Depending on his need; for money, dresses and so on, he made me write letters. I could write only that he wanted me to. I could never write anything about myself since he would read it out again to verify what all I had written and if it was having only those messages that he wanted to convey.

Neither Borda nor Ma or Baba were aware that I was no longer pursuing my studies for which I was actually sent. They were in the belief that I was engaged at my studies. My Baba had actually sent me to my Uncle’s house for studies but my Uncle used me for work. I was made to work all day and night as a workman which I could never do willingly.  At our ancestral home, while my Dadu was a Zamindar and here I was made to work like a labourer at my Uncle’s place. I could never share this pain to my Ma and Baba. I couldn’t pursue my studies for long since I was never given that opportunity. Baba was in the belief that I was studying. Lease was he aware it had discontinued. The little amount of studies that I could pursue on my own, it had its share of difficulties. I had no books. I had to borrow it from others. There was an incident that happened the year my studies was discontinued. I was readying myself for the exams and was studying at night. My Aunt came in and objected me from studying saying that there isn’t enough of kerosene to keep the lamp lit and took it away. This is how my childhood passed and all these events led to the break in my studies that year.  Who could ever sit for studies after being forced to work day and night since morning! I could never pursue my studies since then.

By the time Baba came to know about it; it was too late. One day he came to visit me and saw that my studies have been discontinued. This caused him immense pain and he informed this to my Borda.

My Borda was living in Shillong and employed in the Govt. service.

As I was leaving my Uncle’s house for Shillong, I was filled with mixed emotions; with the sorrow of leaving them after spending this long with them and also with the feeling of joy due to escape from prolonged suffering. I was happy as well as sad. I was sad because I loved my Kaka, Kaki and all in the family. I was a child like any other child. But I was never a child for them. This could be because I was not their son, and so they forced me to work so much. Many a times I wanted to escape from there; but could not garner courage for that.

Upon reaching Shillong, I wanted to forget the past and all that I have gone through. I did not want to keep any memories of my Kaka, Kaki and anything related to them. I wasted valuable days of my life, was kept away from the love of Ma and Baba that I so much deserved at that young age.

Even today I have frequent recollection of Ma, Baba, our ancestral home, all the memories related to my childhood and all that I used to do then.

It was around 1977-78. I moved to Shillong from Kaka’s bari just before my 2nd niece Mitali was born. Borda planned to admit me to school, but I had no desire left for that, since having discontinued my studies for 6 years and starting anew would be difficult for me. So I decided not to study any more. I wanted to do something else, some skill-based job. So, one day I joined a studio to learn photography. I learnt it and then started working. 

I photographed at very big parties and at many different places. Sometimes I used to reach home late at night after work. Many nights I had encounter and fought with the local street goons. Shillong was often if not always gripped with racial tension and frequent riots. My Dada was always worried for me for this reason. My dada loved me very much. If I used to get late to return home from work, he used to stand at the road and wait for me. This was how my life was going on then. 

During this time, my Boudi’s only sister Bani visited our house with her mother. This was the first time I saw her. I accompanied them often when they had to visit somewhere. Once her holidays were over, they left for their home to Itanagar.

After they left, I always kept remembering Bani. I felt as if I was in love with her. I remembered her very much. I fell in love with her, but she didn’t know about it. No one knew about it. I never informed about it to anyone. I knew that was never possible. I used to write her letters sometimes. She used to reply me. But I never shared her that I loved her. One day I came to know that she was coming to our house from Itanagar for BA studies in a college in Shillong. I then sent her a letter that when you would come, I will say you something. 

One day she arrives, and the day following she takes me to her friend’s house. She asks me what was that I wanted to say her. I told her that I had fallen in love with her. She told me that would never be possible since her Didi and those at her house and even from my house will not consent to this. Hearing this, I said nothing. I too knew that it will not be possible, but I was unable to forget her. I used to think that she was right since she was studying BA while I had quit studies. And so no one will consent to this relationship. I was working at the studio during this time. And she was pursuing BA. I struggled to forget her but failed. One day she also fell in love with me. After completing her studies, she went back to her home in Itanagar. She secured a govt. job after reaching there. 

On the day of her departure, I boarded her to the bus and returned. I was very depressed then. I was feeling good about nothing. I always kept remembering her. One day I also left Shillong since I was feeling very low and down with pain. I had an elder cousin, and I went to his house. After some days, I received a letter from my Dada. He was suffering because of my departure. Reading Borda’s letter, I was very much pained. My Borda loved me very much, like his own son. I also loved my Borda, Boudi, Nephew and Niece very much. So I could not stay away from them and returned back to Shillong. Then I decided, I will never leave them again. I will stay with my Dada and die at his place. I loved him very much. I loved my nephew and niece very much and they are everything to me even now. They love me very much and are always by my side. I cannot imagine life without them. I always think and treat and love them as my own child. Till today, we love each other in our family.

I quit the studio and Dada setup a small shop for me. I named it Bani Store.

Me and Bani continued to exchange letters frequently while she was working in Itanagar.  We loved each other a lot. But my Dada and Boudi did not have their consent. One day she wrote to me, to come and talk to her eldest brother. But I could not garner courage since he was a Police Officer. Somehow I managed to gather the courage and went to her house, without informing anything at my house. I spoke to her Dada and he wrote a letter for my Dada. I returned and gave it to my Dada. My Dada and Boudi finally agreed. We got married and were blessed with a daughter. All at our home was fond of her and loved her very much. She was always fed by my Boudi and Nieces. This continued even after she grew up. She never ate on her own when we all lived together. She was dear to all. Everyone had given her a unique name. Some called her Pakhi, some Mona and this way she had many pet names.

Today she has grown up and doing a very good job, in a very good place. We now take pride in her and dream for her. One day she asked me; Papa what do you expect of me. I told her I wish she grows as a good human. All should address us as your parents. This is my expectation and my dream.

I will now talk about the later part of my life. My Nephew and two Nieces had grown up and now they were married and settled with their new family.

One day I went to the market, fell and suffered broken leg. During that period my Dada was also not well. Despite that, he visited me at the hospital. Seeing me, he told me that it would get alright. I could see tear rolling down his eyes. Dada was very pained. I know he is pained whenever he sees me in pain. After some days, I was discharged from the hospital and returned home. Dada was still unwell then.  I could return home as Dada held me, with the help of some other people and thus I reached home. Everything was going on fine then. Some days later, Dada goes to the hospital for his check-up. I was then unable to stand on my feet. I was bedridden. Dada comes closer to me and was looking at me. He then told me that he is going to the hospital for check-up and told me to take care of myself. Saying so he left. 

Dada never returned back alive. Following day, Dada left us all. I was completely shattered and could not believe that my Dada is no more. I loved my Dada very much. No one was at home then. Boudi was at my nephew’s place in Bangalore. I was left helpless. I could never imagine that Dada would leave us like this. I loved him like my father. It was because I spent major part of my life with Dada and Boudi. And I grew up on his ideal. 

Since the death of my Ma and Baba, I was never pained to this extent that I suffered after the death of my Dada. It was because I always treated Dada and Boudi as my Father and Mother. His death shook me completely. I then always used to think what will now happen to us. He was everything to us. We could do nothing without him. We wholly depended on him. He meant everything for us. After his death, I fought many battles in life. I always called upon God and prayed that I had lost many things in life and today you even took away my Dada from me. And I will never get him back. Despite all the loss, I reflect on all the things I got from Dada; his blessings and his Ideal.

It is because of his blessings all is now fine.  Our near and dear ones leave us behind when they die but we never go away from them. They always bless us, always can see us. And because of their blessings we stay fine. This is my belief. Life has taught me many things, but I consider myself fortunate since my nephew, nieces, motherlike Boudi are always there by my side. They are all for me. I love my nephew and niece very much. And they also love me very much. After Dada left us, we realized what he was for us in our life. What all he did for us, always thought for our well-being and was particularly caring towards. He did everything for us and quietly left us all. I place him on the throne of God. And will forever keep him in that place. This is my Faith

To relate to a story that would show how much I loved him, one day on his way from office he came to my shop. Usually while returning from office, he used to pass through the shop. One day he came and said that one person pushed him to the ground. I came out of the shop and he showed me the person. I had a big fight with that person. I bashed him since he touched my dada that I could not bear in any way.

Notes:

This part of the land was under the occupation of:

• East Pakistan from 1947 – 1971

• And Bangladesh since 1971 – till date