Back in 2007, when I came to Guwahati for the first time, from a frontier village of Kamatapur to study at Cotton College, I was an Assamese by heart and soul. In fact, the thought that I was not an Assamese or that Assam is not my homeland, never occurred to me. I was talking Assamese, reading Assamese, writing Assamese and thinking in Assamese. I still remember entering the Swahid Ranjit Barpujari Hostel and getting goosebumps reading the lines written in stone on the statue of the first martyr of the Assamese language movement, Ranjit Barpujari, a mere 16-year-old student, that said: “On July 4th 1960, the first martyr of the language movement sacrificed his life here, in this place”.
And literally, Ranjit Barpujar was shot by Police at the entrance of room number 13 of the hostel.
But, after all these years, what has happened that today I feel nauseating just at the thought of being called an Assamese? Why is it that I can’t even imagine Assam as my homeland anymore? Is it because I was never a “real” Assamese even after spending half my life as an Assamese? I still remember during my Cotton hostel days, how I was called a Bangladeshi because my pronunciation was different from that of many other Assamese friends. But that’s not all.
In the Assamese imagination, the idea of Assam is something which predates Assamese people. It means that the Assamese nationalists although failed to define what really an Assamese is, nonetheless succeeded in establishing the idea of Assam as a given. And this required among others, a total erasure, appropriation and manipulation of what Assam and Assamese were not.
First, there was no Assam before 1826. Before that, there were the Ahom state, the Koch-Kamata state and tribal rulers in between. In fact, the Ahoms came only after the 12th century and before that, there was Kamarupa, the precursor to Kamatapur.
Second, as small tribal clans or kingdoms began to grow more surplus production, they tended to transcend their tribality so as to give way for state formation. In the case of Ahoms, as they grew more powerful and acquired other tribes and their land, some mutual culture and language had to be invented so that the Ahom state could function. But the Ahom rulers didn’t have to invent something avant-garde. Because, even before the Ahoms entered Kamarupa-Kamata, the development of a mutual culture and language was already in progress. In fact, the founding father of Assamese identity and language, Sankardeva was expelled from the Ahom state as he was very keen on developing a more multicultural language, which was seen as a threat to Ahom identity and sovereignty.
As a result, while constructing an Assamese identity or the idea of Assam, the Assamese nationalists had to lie to themselves. Because they knew perfectly well that it was not the Ahoms from where Assam emerged but the idea began many centuries ago with Kamarupa-Kamata, much before the Ahoms entered the scene. Nonetheless, they chose Ahoms as the founding brick of the idea of Assam through deliberate erasure, appropriation and manipulation of the Kamarupa and later the Koch-Kamata history, culture and language.
And this is the beginning of the never-ending Assamese anxiety. As the Assamese identity and the idea of Assam were founded upon lies, manipulation and appropriation, the fear always remains there that the truth might come out and explode or implode from within – which in turn will unmask the Assamese facade and put the idea of Assam in an extinction route.
It’s not surprising therefore to see Assamese nationalists, coming from left to right to centre to not only condemn but outrightly reject and deny the existence of Kamatapur. Because it’s not the reorganization of a historical Kamatapur state that they are afraid of but the very foundation of the Assamese identity is at risk and the idea of Assam is in the utmost danger. If the truth of Kamatapur sees the light of the day, Assamese nationalists will lose not only some districts of Assam but they will be stripped naked with their lies and it will haunt generations to come.
Kamatapur, therefore, becomes more significant and relevant not only for some political gimmick but for its ability to endure lies and its capacity to speak truth to power. And for the Assamese anxiety, Kamatapur is the timely needed vaccine, which a real Assamese can’t but take.
Nirban Ray is a PhD Scholar at Centre For Political Studies, JNU, New Delhi. He can be reached at: [email protected]
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of Northeast Now.