Gitartha Roymedhi from Ukraine
Assam is becoming a part of Bangladesh.


Island of hope and despair
By Sanchet Barua

The island of Majuli (pronounced Majholi) has nurtured Vaishnavite culture since centuries. It is also a biodiversity hotspot for flora and fauna. However, this quaint island in the middle of the Brahmaputra and the Subansiri rivers in Assam, is crying for survival.

Majuli, with a 1.52 lakh population, including over 70,000 Mising tribals, is perhaps the largest inhabited riverine island in the world. Although more than Rs. 350 crore have been spent on Majuli's development, proper roads and bridges on the island are still a distant dream.

This is one place in the world where the potter's wheel is not used for making potteries. Instead, Harappan style handmade pottery is used. The island itself is facing the danger of extinction owing to its shrinking size year after year. Regular floods ravage through the area devasting the inhabitants and their unique abode.

Experts say that the great earthquake of 1950 hit the region with such intensity that the bed of the river was pushed upward, causing the river to change its course. Since then, the island has been constantly eroded, small bits being sliced away by the river every year.

The Majuli island which is located 1,100 km away from the mouth of 2,880 km long Brahmaputra river had an area of 1,256 sq.km. in 1991, but stands at a depleted 875 sq.km. today.

Frequent damages have forced many of the Vaishnavite satras to shift to mainland Assam. Satra connotes a monastery. At one stage, Majuli boasted of 65 monasteries, the number now being reduced to 22. Less than 25 km from the district headquarters of Jorhat, the journey is a tedious one with three bus rides and two ferry rides spanning over three hours.

With Subansiri river on its north and the Brahmaputra on its south bank, Majuli is distinctly separated from mainland.

The island came into prominence in the 16th century with Shankardeva propagating a new form of Vaishnavism. Shankardeva's Vaishnavism was simpler, more accessible and less ritualistic than the complex Hindu religion. It was rooted in faith and prayer.

There was no idol worship or sacrifice, instead a dance drama form of bhaona and ankiya nat using the Bhagwat Gita, written by Shankaradeva was evolved. This was preceded by a decade-long tour by Shankardeva to all pilgrimage centres in the country.

Historically too, Majuli is considered quite important. It is said that Lord Krishna played with his consorts here. Though, thousands of kilometres away from Vrindavan in Uttar Pradesh, one has only to visit Majuli during the Ras Purnima in the month of Kartik to experience the magic.

During the three-day-festival, one is transported back in time. It is a festival in which everyone signs and dances to a religio-spiritual ambience.

Shankaradeva, considered to be the Father of Assamese culture, had taken shelter in Majuli and spent a couple of months at Beloguri (West Majuli). Earlier, the satras had hundreds of disciples. They were trained not only in mask-making, but also in boat-building and other traditional arts and craft.

This cultural ambience of the satras has percolated to the villages of the island, in its traditions, in its people's daily lives. The focal point of all villagers is the Namghar (prayer hall) where people gather to sing and pray. It will not be out of place to mention in this era of individualism that Majuli still preserves the notion of community.

According to agriculture experts, Majuli has a rich and diverse agricultural tradition, growing as many as 100 varieties of rice, all without chemical fertilizers or pesticides. Among the interesting varieties are koomol saool and bao dhan. Fishing and weaving are the other primary occupations.

Lately, Assam's politicians seem to have awakened to save Majuli - a treasure of culture. Besides, Assam's Chief Minister Prafulla Kumar Mahanta, Arun Sarma of the ruling Assam Gan Parishad (AGP) have been making frantic efforts to get Majuli enlisted as a World Heritage site by the UNESCO.

Mr. Arun Sarma says, "the cause of protecting and developing Majuli is the closest thing to my heart." But, he regrettably noted that the pace at which the Brahmaputra Board of the Central Government, was preparing the action plan to scientifically preserve and protect Majuli, it may be just too late to save the island from total destruction.

According to Sarma, the preservation of age-old manuscripts is the biggest task facing the conservationists. For example, this year, three floods have eroded at least two villages near Chumoimari rendering over 300 people shelterless. They were forced to migrate to other villages on the island.

An optimistic Arun Sarma says, "it is still possible to protect Majuli, if expeditious efforts are made in the right direction". Assam Chief Minister Prafulla Kumar Mahanta during a tour to Japan in May this year, had made a fervent plea before the global community to save Majuli. A proposal sent by the Assam Government to the UNESCO is under evaluation. A preparatory project of Rs. 75 crore was sent to the UNESCO for Majuli.

Meanwhile, the satras are facing the threat of existence for want of funds, Sanjoy Hazarika, senior fellow with National Centre for Policy Research (NCPR), Delhi, tells you. Endorsing his views, the Assam Government admitted that the satras were shifting to the mainland in droves.

This year Dakshin Path Satra, the oldest on the river bank, was forced to shift to the mainland. Likewise, Kamlabari satra had partly shifted to Titabor in Jorhat district.

According to experts, instead of creating museums, the Government should make rapid efforts to preserve Majuli as a living museum.

A voluntary organisation called the Majuli Island Protection and Development Council (MIPDC) is working to save the island. It will be a big tragedy if exodus of the satras continues from a natural paradise like Majuli, an island which is home to over 100 species of exotic migratory birds, some to endangered species. Majuli is a breeding ground for several flocks.

Many endangered birds - like the Great Adjutant Stork, the Pelican and the Whistling Teal - regularly nest in Majuli.

The islanders' problems have compounded in recent years with the United Liberation Front of Assam (ULFA) extremists using Majuli as a hideout, says police officer Heerendra Chandranath.

In March 1999 evidence of ULFA cadres indulging in sex with the Majuli tribals came to light.

Back in Bhopal, director of the Indira Gandhi Rashtriya Manav Sanghralaya, the nodal agency to look after vanishing populations of India, said efforts were being made to save the Misings from extinction. Dr. Kalyan Kumar Chakravarty said, "in October-November 2000 the IGRMS will take up conservation and revitalisation programmes at heritage sites. This will be done in collaboration with the communities. The IGRMS is governed by the Central Government's Human Resource Development (HRD) Ministry.

Since Majuli is a culture centre, the IGRMS held a three-day awareness meet in the first week of April at Bhopal. Besides, the IGRMS will be launching a "Save Majuli" campaign soon under which a satra would be moved to the Madhya Pradesh Capital.

The Misings are said to be related to the Adi tribals of Arunachal Pradesh. They are believed to have migrated to the Brahmaputra Valley 600 years ago. Originally, the Misings did not believe in organised religions like Hinduism. Instead, they worshipped the Moon and the Sun. But, over the years, a majority has taken a Hinduism.

It is imperative to save the island from extinction and the onus lies on each one of us. INAV

The world's largest river island-IX

While the Ras was under way, Majuli had other visitors, in the form of the Army. For a few days one experienced the fear of living in a police state. By five o'clock in the evening all the shops would down their shutters, and the Chariali, normally bustling with life till late night, would be deserted, quiet. Even the dogs, normally running round creating a ruckus, sensed the fear and slunk into the shadows, in anticipation of something terrible. As it happened, the operations were called off during the Ras, and the army strategically retreated to their barracks in Jorhat or wherever — but the damage was done. The normal gaiety, crowds and festivity that marked the Ras Leela in Majuli was absent, and throughout the three days, there was a sense of hollowness, going through the motions without having your heart in it.

The relationship of the people of Majuli with the Army was based largely on their experience with the Army operations in 1985. A young lieutenant by the name of Beniwal ruled Majuli with an iron hand, beating up young people at will and taking people into custody for days. He has passed down into history as a mythical sandman: mothers even now tell their children that if they don't behave themselves, Beniwal will get them! That experience, plus the frequent reports in the media of 'army atrocities' kept people indoors. The last rehearsal for the Ras was called off because the men were unwilling to attend, scared to leave their womenfolk alone at home.

When the Army returned after the Ras, they came in a new avatar — repairing the roads and bridges, running medical camps, and even as I write, selling cigarettes and wind-cheaters through their canteen stores — but it will take a long time for the wall to break. On New Year's Day, right under their noses, all of Majuli was plastered with ULFA posters!

This year Jengrai, the northern side of Majuli, has been badly affected. Usually this area, predominantly tribal, was spared the ravages of the annual floods, securely protected by embankments on all sides — but when the dikes at Dhemaji and Dhekuwakhana breached, the force of the water swept through and breached the road at three places, cutting it off from the rest of the island. Worse, when the river receded after the flood, it left acres of sand in its wake, destroying fertile agricultural lands and leaving behind a wasteland. In four or five years, the land will regenerate itself — but till then, it will be arid and sandy. We were working with a group of poor women from a village called Borpumua, close to Jengrai. After the flood, we helped them with a small loan for seeds for a winter crop. The idea was that they would meet every month and save a small sum of money, starting a process that would move them towards self-reliance. In fact what had happened was that the women had all been working in houses of their better-off relatives in Lakhimpur and Dhemaji, cutting rice and helping in the fields, in the hope that they would get some benefit later. This custom was predominant among the Mishings of Majuli, and was a very effective social safety net. When there was a good harvest somewhere, it became incumbent on that person to share, just so that when he went through the same adversity, there were people to help.

Of course the situation was not all idyllic. We were in the process of trying to build a bridge across the Tuni river, connecting about seven Mishing villages with the main island of Majuli. The Ratan Tata Trust had given us a grant with a condition that we raise resources from the community and government to match. Four times we had meetings, all elaborately arranged and minuted, but each time there was a different set of people, and the process started from scratch. The last occasion was the most awkward: our meeting was being held in a village primary school on one bank of the river that we were to build a bridge over. Across the river, on the other bank, we could see the Bengniati High School cricket ground, where a local match was in progress. The vast majority of our Executive Committee failed to show up for our meeting, but we could see them across the river, watching the game intently.

The bridge across the Tuni had the potential to become a lifeline for the Mishing villages. Having a permanent wooden bridge means that trucks and minibuses can reach that area, and this will reduce the prices of vegetables and essential commodities that come from outside. This area was prone to erosion, and having a bridge here is more than just a means of getting from A to B, it's a symbol of confidence of the people in a rapidly deteriorating environment. Even if the government is not prepared to put any resources into the area, the people can show how it can be done. So why this apparent lack of interest? So far the modus operandi for getting any kind of public work sanctioned had been to grease the palm of the concerned department (usually through the contractor). If this can be followed up with some pressure from the local MLA, it's fail-safe formula, so the concept of having to raise resources yourself and work was daunting and difficult to understand the need for.

The other major drama unfolding in Majuli was the response to the influx of Christianity into the island by the powerful satras and satradhikars. The phenomenon was quite recent — perhaps five or six years old. The sphere of influence was restricted to the Jengrai area, and most of the converts are Mishings. As of today there may be only five hundred or so practising Christian families, but the thought that it can make inroads into Majuli, so far considered to be a bastion of Vaishnava culture in the region, has made people sit up and take notice. In spite of a sizeable Bengali population in Majuli, there was no Durga Puja, with or without the sacrifice involved — so strong is the influence of the satras. Yet at the same time what makes it possible for Christianity to make inroads? I put the question to Sri Duta Deb Goswami, the young and articulate satradhikar of Bhogpur, one of the satras founded by Sri Sankardeb himself. He was very candid. 'Sri Sri Sankardeb spent twelve years wandering to different places of worship, to learn and develop the concept that he came back and propagated. He meant us to be like him — to travel to spread the word, and make people aware of the path. Yet we fell victim to the same orthodoxies that he had rebelled against. The Rajas gave us land, and we developed these ashrams, and monasteries, and preserved the culture, the dance, the music, the thought, all within these walls — leaving it to the people to come and receive, if they wanted, but not making the effort to go out among the people ourselves. Why then should it surprise us if people turn away to different enticements? He himself resolved to take time out from his meditation and writing and spent time travelling and being among people.

The issue was very complex. On the one hand though there may be no overt conversion, the fact was that the best English medium school on the island was St. Paul's in Jengrai. English was identified as the passport to success, with the West, and western culture. The people who came to preach know the tribal language, and there was even a Bible in Mishing — that was more than we could say for the almost 100,000 other people who had coexisted on the island for the last five hundred years. Although Sankardeb himself may have had disciples in his close circle from different religions and castes, in Majuli the interpretation had become rigid — none of them allow Scheduled Caste or tribal people to become bhakts and live in the satras. Women even today were not permitted everywhere, and certainly none of them would take women as bhakts. It was these pushes and pulls that were playing themselves out in Majuli — only time will tell what shape they will take.

In an unprecedented show of solidarity today, more than a dozen voluntary organisations came together to try and work out a low cost solution to the problem of erosion in Majuli, which had shrunk the world's largest river island by one third over the last ten years. Arif Hussain, a doctoral student in the Department of Applied Geology at the Dibrugarh University, explained the concept. 'Basically what we have here is an almost perpendicular, upright river bank. As the water flows under the bank, it cuts under the bank, gradually forming a sort of overhang — the weight and pressure of that then crashes into the river. So what we are trying to do so is to use natural forces to resist the river. We're pulling back the slope, giving it an incline, and planting all manner of local grasses and plants on the side. Debajit Baruah, a botany teacher in the local Majuli College, says, 'We have selected six of the best known local species. You can look at any bank that's not been eroded it usually has a thick vegetative cover — we're just using that commonsense'.

The decision to come together and do some work practically came out of a meeting between Sushil Goswami, a professor at the Dibrugarh University (who is studying the erosion problem under the aegis of AVARD, the voluntary organisation that is co-ordinating this exercise), and some concerned citizens of the island. He said that there had been many meetings and a lot of talk on the subject, but little by way of practical work, using local knowledge and resources. 'While there is need for us to continue to work on remote sensing imagery, generate a good data base, and use that information for advocacy with the government to create a pressure, we should also work on the problem ourselves,' he told the group. That was picked up, and a campaign started.

Twenty-one groups volunteered to participate, including the local schools and colleges, youth clubs, and the district-level women's organisations and the AJYCP. The area selected for the experiment is between Bhotiamari, a Mishing village near the Kamlabari ferry ghat, and the mouth of the Tuni river, almost two kilometers away. Each of the organisations has been given a hundred meter stretch of river bank to work on, but the norms may have to be changed. David Humtsoe, spokesperson for AVARD, said, 'We had underestimated the work, today there were fifty people and after working for six hours, we have been able to complete a model area of only ten meters. In consultation with the other groups that came, we decided to reduce the length to thirty metros, which can be completed by twenty persons working for the entire day. That might make the size of the project smaller, but it should at least be a well-done job. Our effort is not simply to stop erosion, but also generate a sense of local participation, and interest, and create a belief that something can be done, even on a small scale.

Bhaben Kakoty, the district general secretary of the AJYCP was appreciative of the effort. 'We've been taking up this issue of erosion protection by the government for many years now, and in the past also have mobilised our member and local communities to do this kind of shramdaan — it's natural that we should be associated, and want to help and make it a success'.

(Excerpted with permission from Sanjoy's Assam, edited by Sumita Ghosh and published by Penguin Books India