Muse India: a literary journal - Issue 92 (Jul-Aug 2020)
The projection of the Northeastern region as a “conflict zone” is deeply planted in the minds of most Indians that it has become quite difficult to imagine otherwise. Besides this, there is also the other image that captivates their imagination – an exotic place – almost mystical to them that they like to imagine it, as a ‘land lost in time’! An ordinary scene and everyday mundane situation doesn’t seem to permeate the minds of many. Whenever I get opportunities, especially to address young minds, I have stated categorically that unless we imagine the region beyond the images of “conflict” and “exotic”, one would not see the real Northeast. It is this twin effect that has unfortunately done more damage to the image of the region. Somehow, despite several pleas against such projections, nothing substantial has changed. It is this much obsessed issue of conflict in the region that becomes “newsworthy” to the “mainstream” media.
Moreover, it is with the same breath that even literature originating from the region has been branded as “conflict literature”, as if the writer from the Northeast does not know how to write any other subject or genre. Yes, they do write about their own experiences of conflict and violence because many have gone through some terrible times in the recent past. But the same is also true of many other writers from different regions in the country or the world. We live in a broken world with broken people, so what more can we expect than to read and write about the lived reality. It is time, however, that we move beyond the boxes that define and limit creativity. I would like to suggest that we re-imagine the region through literature, and hereby, propose to redefine the writings from the region as “peace literature” because many of these works are so much about hope and the desire to move on from the broken realities of the present.
The idea of peace literature, as Antony Adolf argues, should “evoke empathy” upon realising the complexities and actualities of life, while at the same time possess universal appeal (13). Niall Munro also postulates, “A literature of peace must challenge. However recent the conflict, it must insist on its role in the safeguarding of memory and commemoration and it must highlight the need for citizens to acknowledge personal responsibility for their actions” (2016).
A glance at the writings from the Northeast will draw the reader to the rich imagination that is fed by a long tradition of storytelling. Within the larger themes, a close reading would also enable one to see the complexities of social and political realities, whereby the reader could also empathize with the narratives that are brought alive. Just as social and political peace is desired within the context of conflict or violence, the literature of peace offers hope of a better future without antagonism.
This idea can be traced in Easterine Kire’s Bitter Wormwood (2011) which gives a historical account of the Naga political struggle over the last six decades. Tracing the life of a person named Mose (short for Moselie) from his birth in 1937 to his fatal death in 2007; the novel gives us a glimpse of what it meant to live through one of the longest conflicts in modern history. But the author neither indulges in self-pitying nor laments the plight her people are forced to undergo. Instead of the much-hyped Indo-Naga conflict, forgiveness is the underlying theme of the novel. It focuses on healing to the political abrasions caused by enmity and looks forward to the future with hope and peace.
As a believer in her Christian doctrine of forgiveness, Easterine Kire firmly holds that it is this virtue that can only lead the way forward in the relationship between Indians and Nagas. This perspective should appeal more to the Nagas who are largely Christian and forgiveness is an essential virtue to reach God. In one of the poignant moments in the narrative, she demonstrates this principle when Mose’s grandson and his friend (grandson of a retired Indian army officer who was posted in Nagaland in the turbulent periods) learn about each other better and discover a more humane way to end misunderstanding. They thereby see life beyond conflict. Talking about how this change of perspective came along, she states:
As a believer in her Christian doctrine of forgiveness, Easterine Kire firmly holds that it is this virtue that can only lead the way forward in the relationship between Indians and Nagas. This perspective should appeal more to the Nagas who are largely Christian and forgiveness is an essential virtue to reach God. In one of the poignant moments in the narrative, she demonstrates this principle when Mose’s grandson and his friend (grandson of a retired Indian army officer who was posted in Nagaland in the turbulent periods) learn about each other better and discover a more humane way to end misunderstanding. They thereby see life beyond conflict. Talking about how this change of perspective came along, she states:
I began to understand very clearly that the problems did not lie in laws and government policies alone, but the problems of the Northeast, and all human problems for that matter, had their origins in human sources. Thereby, the solutions could come only through human solutions. I know many say this is an idealist view to take, but the fact that the laws of the land have been made by humans at some stage in history and therefore, can be undone by humans. I have addressed this in my book, Bitter Wormwood where the grandson of the protagonist and his best friend, who is the grandson of an Indian soldier, discuss the concept of deconstructing history to rescue the present. Their friendship demonstrates that when people come together, they learn to understand each other, and this human understanding can be the biggest stepping stone to a future without conflict. [emphasis added] (2014).
This concept of “deconstructing history to rescue the present” is an apt idea to understand that the conflict of the past should not continue to dictate the present as well as a vision of the future. Unfortunately, this has been a difficult step to tread upon. What is more daunting is the fact that the prolonged projection of conflict in the region has resulted in the internalization of a victimhood mindset in the people. Easterine deals with this issue when she aserts, “The trouble with us Nagas is that we have allowed the conflict to define us for too long. It has overtaken our lives so much that we have been colonized by it and its demands on us” (236). This truth is also applicable to the other communities of the region – that there is a sense of being colonised by a conflict mentality. Perhaps, to some extent, the fact of having lived through conflicting times has made many to be defined by conflict. But allowing conflict to define our lives is also to let the past have a grip on us to a point of crippling our present. The way to overcome this is to let go of the bitterness of the past by adopting the attitude of forgiveness to heal the souls of the people.
Added to that is the metaphor of “bitter wormwood” in the novel, which has also been adopted for the title of the book. The herb which has long been traditionally valued for its medicinal components and also believed by the people to keep bad spirits away, stands for the possibility of healing the wounds of the past. Perhaps, the novel appeals to the larger Indian population to understand the people of the Northeast and its multiple problems. Often, the rest of the country sits back at a safe distance and comment on the happenings in the Northeast, but that does not really help build relationships. But a mutual understanding and honest effort to connect, like the two friends in the novel, would do a good deal in respecting each other’s culture and past. This is the challenge for the reader, which Munro talks about. Easterine’s novel is an example of peace literature as it plays the “role in the safeguarding of memory and commemoration and it must highlight the need for citizens to acknowledge personal responsibility for their actions”. The action required here being that of a step to heal the wounds of the past through forgiveness.
We see this form of writing emerging from other states of the Northeast. Mention may be made of Malsawmi Jacob's Zorami – A Redemption Song (2015) which also talks of healing from the trauma of the past. The Mizos too, like the Nagas, have undergone tremendous sufferings in the 1950s and 60s which led to the rise of the MNF (Mizo National Front) who took arms against India. Just as the protagonist of the novel needed inner healing to let her move forward, the people too required a spiritual healing through forgiveness to see healing in the land.
There is power in stories – the power to let the still clear voice emerge to speak what has not been uttered by the maddening crowd. Far more than what politicians or bureaucrats blabber about peace in the chaos around us, it is the voice of the writers who speak sense. The political peace will continue to remain an illusion for the Nagas as long as a spirit of forgiveness is not given primary focus. This is true of not just peace with the larger Indian state or the neighbouring people groups but also within their own fold which has been marred by factional conflicts. The Forum for Reconciliation (FNR) initiated in 2008 by well-intended Naga public leaders is driven by the need for reconciliation among different warring groups through forgiveness for the sake of the future.
I think it is this truth expressed through literary works that needs consideration for peace and hope to be perceivable. In these times of uncertainty, it is the voice of the writers that speaks volume loud and clear, as Easterine Kire mentions.
There is power in stories – the power to let the still clear voice emerge to speak what has not been uttered by the maddening crowd. Far more than what politicians or bureaucrats blabber about peace in the chaos around us, it is the voice of the writers who speak sense. The political peace will continue to remain an illusion for the Nagas as long as a spirit of forgiveness is not given primary focus. This is true of not just peace with the larger Indian state or the neighbouring people groups but also within their own fold which has been marred by factional conflicts. The Forum for Reconciliation (FNR) initiated in 2008 by well-intended Naga public leaders is driven by the need for reconciliation among different warring groups through forgiveness for the sake of the future.
I think it is this truth expressed through literary works that needs consideration for peace and hope to be perceivable. In these times of uncertainty, it is the voice of the writers that speaks volume loud and clear, as Easterine Kire mentions.
I believe that stories are powerful
they have the power to transform lives
the magic to work peace.
It is so important that they be told
in any possible way, even in ways that we have not thought of before
as pictures, as gestures, as dance, as song
in any way they can be told
reborn, breathing life in new shapes
so that they can work their transforming magic. (“Barcelona Dreamtime”)
Works Cited (For details please see www.museindia.com)
