The Burning Bungalow

Beginning of 19th Century: North East India, the then NEFA was not known to anybody in the world. There were no roads, no communication system, and no power. It was full of forests, reptiles and animals, until the East India Company had invaded this part of the country. The land was inundated by frequent floods, affected by deadly diseases like cholera, malaria and other epidemics, an area inhabited by the tribal and the other aboriginal population. British discovered “tea”, the fabulous present day drink. The history of discovery of tea in the region goes back to the arrival of a Scottish explorer turned tea planter Robert Bruce in early 19th century in Assam. Taking tea as a popular drink to the outward world started when John Bush was made the superintendent of the Government tea forest in the present Upper Assam region, mostly the Sadiya area. It was a painful journey to reach Sadiya, when the presence of this medicinal plant was discovered. It was mostly used by the local inhabitants for curing certain ailment. The Sanjeevani tea belongs to ‘camellia sinensis’ group. The company brought the seed and plants from the China Province and made the railway line up to Makum at Sadia Sub-division. The laborers were traded by the slave traders and agents from the Central India, mostly government agents under the Company.

They were brought in inhuman conditions, in chains, without food, without oxygen, in closed chambers of railway good trains just like pigs. Most were brought from Chota Nagpur Plateau, now in Jharkhand, Odisha, and MP - Santhalis, Oriya, Munda, Kurukh(oraon) Gonds , Kharia and Saora, all the poorest of the poor downtrodden tribes. They were sold and brought for their livelihood and food, were given opium instead of medicine, local vodka instead of water. They were not human--only unit of labour. They were forced to work for making the railway lines and later for cleaning the forest areas for plantation of tea, imported from China. The first tea garden was established at Chabua in the year 1837. They were earmarked as the tea tribes of Assam, later on assimilated to the local culture and land. The rest is history.
The beginning: John, the young man, came to the foothill of the Assam Arunachal border in search of his dream. He was young, determined and arrogant to make his future. He started learning about tea, the secret of brewing the liquor, the famous black tea of Assam. The time was never in his favour, all the odds and hurdles in his way. He managed to buy a small plot of forest land and had started planting his dream. He wanted to establish a tea garden. There was some labour sarder who had their expertise in the plantation process for this wonder plant. He met Budhua, the Sardar from the nearby area who was suspended from the Company Garden for quarrelling with the Manager. Actually he had quite a few vices, a born drunkard and little human. He had the expertise to smell land and tell whether the plot was suitable for plantation of tea saplings.
Tea is specially favoured by the climatic condition in the area. 150-300 cm annual rainfall, well distributed throughout the year, alternate waves of warm and cool winds worked wonders.
In 20 years, John had developed a tea garden to his fame. He got all the help from the sardar, Budhua and many other who came under his control later. He knew the tricks to handle the cunning labours and to handle the polite ones and started establishing his identity.
John put all his effort of in developing his brand of Black tea and the Orthodox variety and started exporting. But sunny days never come alone. John was a proud man, never close to any of his aides.
He walked along the lonely path of his estate along with one gunman for his security.

‘Namaste sir’ the labourers would salute him while crossing his road, bowing their head. He walked straight without noticing them. He was arrogant. It was his nature, pride was in his blood. He was a businessman. He was dreaming about the expansion of his estate. A self made lonely man.

However, life was good for the labourers. Budhua and his clan had their festival. They drank the Hariya, the young girls sang the ‘ Sereng’ and danced at the tune of the ‘madal’.

Slowly, new faces started coming to the tea garden area and created their own groups.

‘Are Budhua, why are you not coming to our group? We will be demanding a wage revision, salla Malikar Samsa’ one of the young boy rebuked him.

‘Ja re kutta – what will you do, if not paid? Ha’? Die without food?’

‘We shall go for the hortal, the agitation. If wages are not paid we will pay you’.

‘Tomorrow we will go to the Bunglow’ with the demand. The new leader shouted.

The message was delivered to John by the manager that some kind of unrest had started inside the labor lines.

‘Don’t pay any importance to such rumours,’ John ascertained his Manager.

‘I know these people for last 30 years, they don’t have the guts to go against me’.

‘But sir, report says that some naxalites have entered the area and creating their groups.’

‘Inform the Police Superintendent’.

Find Budhua Sardar and Dino and others.

The group of rebels had started their activity and John denied meeting them and having any discussion with them.

‘I have made this garden with my blood and sweat. Who are they to dictate terms?’

John was arrogant.

The general strike was declared. The labourers stopped coming to work. It was a pick season and the new labour leaders knew, he had no alternative but to agree to their terms. He might not afford for closing the plucking and making tea. Every day was precious.

But they had underestimated him. Work stopped. He would never surrender to their demand.

The tune of ‘sereng’ was lost. The labor line had slowly converted to a war zone. They were instigated to take a stand by the people, the self created leaders, disturbing the age old peace and environment.

Hunger started to show its ugly face. They were wage earners and had no alternative income except the payroll. Infuriated they started a rebellion. Some of the old faces argued to come back to work.

‘No, you can’t! If you go to the Malik, you would be marked as the enemy of our people.

It continued. The garden was on the verge of closure.
John could have called for a negotiation, but he didn’t. He called the police to crack the rebellion.
A raid was conducted. Two leaders were arrested.

The news spread like a fire.

Hunger makes people more arrogant and animal. The news of the arrest of the two leaders made them furious.

‘Let’s go and fight’- someone declared. They had no food, no opium and no vodka.
‘Our leader must be released today itself.’
The gathering was increasing slowly. Budhia and his friends tried to inform John. But he was drunk. The new leaders had given him a new brand, a foreign brand.

John got the news. Something was happening. But he was an old man then. He had lost his young angry blood. His manager was away in another town for some other work. He was in his bungalow.
He opened his service revolver and checked it. The bullets were intact. He made a call to the SP.
‘Something is not good’. ‘Please send a force to the estate.’
He sent a quick message.
He didn’t know that the mob was already outside his bungalow. They had bows, deadly arrows and kerosene.
The sound came closer. He could hear the sound of death coming closer.
‘Kill him’
‘Kill him’

The words came as a shock to him. He opened his album, his entire life flashed in front of his eyes…his family, his daughter, her first walk, her school…

The mob turned into zombies, mindless, animated human corpses with a hunger for human flesh, crazy for the blood and flesh of the only living human being. They set the bungalow on fire, after torching the two van and cars outside it. Locked the door and shouted like hungry hyenas.

The Legend says, the proud, arrogant man was inside the burning bungalow.