At the moment when Sanjeev’s head hit the hard concrete
ground and blood oozed out of his head and mouth, he caught a glimpse of the St.
Edmund’s School at the centre of the hill town. His son was a student of Class XI of the same school, having secured his position by his brilliant performance in Class X.
Sanjeev was very proud of the fact that his son has got admission into the
higher secondary classes of this prestigious school. ‘The No. 1 school in Shillong and North-East’ he claimed with enthusiasm. For several years, he was the driver of
the Principal’s car before he decided to set up his own business of taxi
services. But he was quick to point out,
‘no recommendation works here in this school, its only merit’.
His grandfather who moved to this state as a worker – later
become a contractor – had built parts of building of this school among many other
buildings of the city. They were a group of migrant workers with exceptional
skills of construction, had less demands, finished work on time and were ready
to work for cheaper rates. That worked very well for the aspiring entrepreneurs and businessmen
who along with the continuous growth of the city and increasing missionary activities ensured that there was always something new to
be built in Shillong and the workers were never out of work. When his grandfather died, it was hard to make out if a
Hindu or Christian had passed away. There were so many representatives from the
all communities whose houses he had built or repaired in his time as a contractor.
Sanjeev’s father was born in Meghalaya. He went on to become
a technician and worked in the government department of telecom. Some of the
first telephone lines for the population of the town were set up by him. He was
very proud of this fact and always looked the ‘mobile phenomena’ with
suspicion.
Sanjeev spoke the local language and some dialects as good
as any local youth would do and knew every custom, tradition and festival well.
He never felt any difference between him and his friends – except for some
delicacies which were exchanged happily between families.
Things were not the same at all the times though.
Some political elements have been fuelling the whole ‘son of
the soil’ fire and demanding that the outsiders go back. Some of it has been
triggered by the recent speed of development and prosperity, a larger share of
which had gone to the outsiders.
Attacks on malls, shops and business entities owned by
‘outsiders’ has been going on for a while. But, Sanjeev never understood why
there would be anger against petty entrepreneurs and workers like him. They
were all poor like the locals.
This winter, skirmish continued on the streets – and one day Sanjeev too
was caught in this when the rubble-rousers attached the taxi stand and attacked
Bihari drivers. The helpless drivers were beaten black and blue and were not
even able to communicate with the locals that they would go away to never
return. Sanjeev who spoke the local language fluently, intervened and argued
with the locals. They were even willing to let him go, but he tried to protect
and argue for all outsiders. That is when they decided to attack him as well.
He was angry and upset and wanted to curse the local people
but a thought crystallised his mind that he belonged more to this place than these boys who would flee
to the big metros of Delhi and Mumbai at the first opportunity presented. He
knew this was not what most of the people of Shillong stood for or wanted. He decided to
fight back and all of a sudden took out a can of petrol and rushed towards the school and
church.
He kept shouting loudly and wildly ‘Look here! These churches, schools are also created by outsiders – burn them,
break them. Let's burn the hospitals also’
The mob was distracted from whatever they were doing not just by the loud cries of Sanjeev but the heat and light of the first few things set to fire by Sanjeev. They rushed to control him and within a few minutes he was under control, the can taken away from him and he pinned down to the ground. The other boys were quick to drowse the fire. Someone had called police and most of the mob fled the scene. The police rounded up the few who were there including Sanjeev.
'Who started the fire?' the police asked.
'We don't know. It must be the mob'
'There is no mob'
'Then there is no fire'
The police and the young men exchanged glances. The police knew they would not get anything and no one would turn anyone in. They never did in this town - outsiders or not.
The men looked at each other after the police went away and hugged Sanjeev tightly. Sajeev was happy that this lighting had gone away without much damage.
