A Night of Fear

Hiramon Helena Talang visits a home in Nahar-1 to discuss the latest conflict with the neighbouring tea garden.

Hiramon Helena Talang is a research associate working with a local NGO called the Kapaeeng Foundation. She is from the Khasi community in Moulvibazar. Anyone can see that my friend is confident, capable and skilled. What is not so obvious, what I came to learn on the night of Friday 30 May 2014, is that to her community she is also a heroine.
That afternoon word had come from the Nahar-1 punjee – punjee is the word used locally for Khasi villages – that, at around 12 p.m., about two hundred people, allegedly instigated by the manager of the nearby Nahar Tea Estate Pijush Kanti Bhattacharya, had started marching towards the punjee. According to the villagers, the tea garden has long been claiming some 200 acres where the Khasi reside. It seemed as if plans were afoot to evict the residents and occupy the land. It was not the first time.
When she heard the news Talang was visiting her sister in Kulaura, on her day off. She immediately headed for the shared CNGs to take her to Sreemangal and suggested I accompany her. From there we traversed fifteen kilometres of hilly road en-route to Longlia punjee, from where we could walk through the garden to reach the 210 villagers, from around twenty extended families, of Nahar-1. It is a remote area, perhaps not often enough considered by the local authorities.

The villagers of Nahar-1 stayed awake that night, fearing further attack from the tea garden.

By the time we arrived the sky was darkening. It was calm by then which on a normal day would be charming. But it wasn't that natural hillside calm. There was no villager attending to some household chore in their house yard, none sitting on the veranda of their home enjoying the twilight. The punjee seemed empty; the quiet foreboding.
As we approached the villagers did begin to emerge, looking both tense and relieved. They seemed pleased, to have taken courage from Talang's arrival. Soon all the villagers were sitting together in the middle of the punjee to discuss the problem and think about what to do next. It is Khasi tradition for villagers to come together in the presence of their montri or head villager, to discuss problems that arise.
I listened, some part was translated for me, about how the village men had been as usual, busy in their betel leaf gardens, the principal income source and traditional occupation for the Khasi, when the tea garden mob arrived. It was explained that such attacks often occur while the village men are busy – the target was the village women.
The attack on that day left twenty injured, thirteen women and seven men, they said. Some were beaten on their hands or legs. Five villagers sustained more serious injuries, as did at least one of the attackers.
Another usual goal of such attacks is to destroy betel vines. Each vine takes three to four years to grow before it will yield leaves for the subsequent ten to twelve years. To cut a vine is to hack into the local economy, in the hope that the then penniless Khasi families will have no choice but to move on, except that they have nowhere to go. Nor, of course, do they harbour any desire to leave their customary lands.
Talang spoke strongly, in Khasi language. Although I could not understand her every word I was surprised to see the reaction. The daughter of the village was an expert motivator. She busied herself cultivating courage in her fellow villagers.
I watched Talang's face, dedicated and emotional. I saw in her shock; and at times tears fell from her eyes. She asked me, “If the Khasi are Bangladeshi citizens too, why are they, so often, targeted and harassed?” She wondered aloud why land grabbing was a constant, nagging problem to which the government had thus far been unable to offer a lasting solution.
The montri of the punjee then explained the plan of such attacks: to evict the Khasi from their lands. He described the day's events in detail and added that the usual tactic was for the tea garden management to later blame the Khasi.
“They threatened to murder me,” said villager Lari Lamin, 27. “They said they would kill me if I said anything.”
“We are insecure. They will evict us at any moment,” said Thiari Suting, 45. “Every day we pass in a state of panic.”
“They will stop us from selling our betel,” said mother of six, Airin Pohlong, 30, “They threatened that the tea labourers will destroy our crops if we try to carry them to the market along the road that passes through the tea garden.”
“We are scared to go out of the punjee,” said mother of two, Therida Kongwang, 30, “due to the state of siege.”
It's not only Nahar-1. The same road leads to Nahar-2. The ongoing situation had the potential to leave up to 700 people stranded and isolated. Even eight-year-old Arkid Pohshyad, who studies in class three in Sreemangal, would be unable to attend his classes after that day's events, the villagers considered. It is well known that he is the son of the assistant montri and to send him was considered too risky.
Ironically, the villagers of Nahar-1 also rely upon tea garden labourers seeking to supplement their low wages, to help harvest the betel crop. Another issue is that the labourers would likely be forced to stop coming, which would make continuing the ongoing harvest, which runs from May until December, difficult.
“Hai bhah e e pyem e t pthai,” said Kongwong, “We live on betel leaf totally.”
“We suffer too much for the tea garden. We don't know when this fight will finish. De sah kot diam nge – We are fed up,” added Pohlong.

The village men of Nahar-1 undertook patrols and sentry duty of their punjee and betel gardens that night.

During the night the village men did their duty, patrolling the betel gardens and village in order to protect their land, their families and their lives. At around 10 pm, a BGB patrol arrived to preserve security and observe the situation.
Yet at 12 a.m. some outsiders spread rumour by phone that the tea estate had filed a case and the police were on their way with two jeeps to arrest the Khasi “criminals”. The rumour proved unreliable, at least on that evening, but had its effect: the distressed villagers did not sleep all night.
I stayed awake until 2am As I finally decided to give in to sleep, I saw that Talang, educated and respected, was still moving from house to house, discussing, abating fears and improving morale. It was certain she would not sleep. Those hours, along with undoubtedly many more while the situation remained critical, would be consumed by her unflagging devotion to her community.
I was but a listener that evening. Talang was speaker, motivator, counsellor, human rights activist, villager, neighbour and friend.
Some days later, when I contact tea garden manager Bhattarcharya, as the montri had predicted, he says that the disputed land belongs to the tea garden and that the Khasi, attacked them when they went to “recover their land.” “Khasi land grabbers murdered a tea labourer,” Bhattarcharya alleges, “for which we filed a case against fifteen identified and 160 unidentified people.”
In response, the Khasi claim that as far as they know the attacker, who sustained serious injury as they defended themselves, died some days after the incident. Unfortunately such claims and counter-claims are likely to be the way of things while there remains a lack of certainty regarding Khasi traditional lands in the area. It seems the villagers of Nahar-1 punjee will absolutely require Hiramon Helena Talang's ongoing leadership skills in the coming days.
Mintu Deshwara is The Daily Star correspondent for Moulvibazar.
(Story prepared with assistance from Andrew Eagle)