Tragedy and hardship often provide the grim inspiration for good literature. That's what happens with Easterine Kire, now based in Norway, as she writes about Nagaland, her birthplace, and its people in northeastern India.
Easterine's novel, Bitter Wormwood (2011, Zubaan, 269 pages) opens with a too-typical scene. “It was over quickly. The young man who was shot lay dead in a spreading pool of blood. Shops quickly downed their shutters. Vegetable-sellers trying to save their goods scampered off with their baskets of vegetables.”
More than just a story, Bitter Wormwood brims with history, geography, culture, rituals, routines and amiable characters. A dark, somber cover and the initially-puzzling title may hamper this book. But once opened, it's tough to close, so congenial are the leading characters and so riveting the events in their lives.
This is the life story of Mose, a fictional fellow born at the edge of a field in 1937, but typical of the Naga people in that he suffers needlessly. As one character says, “If life is hard to you, you simply harden yourself so its griefs are easier to bear.”
Most Nagas wish to separate from India. “Everyone I know wants to be independent, even illiterate villagers.”
For generations, they've resented and futilely resisted being forced into a larger nation. “In God's eyes we are our own nation. It can't be right to pretend we are Indians.”
An underground militia, the rag-tag, half-starved Naga Army, has battled the “occupying” Indian soldiers. As young men, Mose and his pal Neituo joined the fighters. They avoided bullets and capture long enough to return to civilian lives, but their political frustrations remain and even intensify as the long-thwarted independence movement splinters, turning stubborn factions against each other. “The almost daily killings, the young men on the streets calloused by hate and shouting at everyone in sight and the complete collapse of cultural life – it was unbelievable that it could come to this, thought Mose.”
Since the 1950s, hundreds of thousands of Naga people have died in resisting India, factional infighting or the Indian Army’s violent retaliations. “By 1956, the Indian army began taking prisoners and using them for target practice...,” Easterine says. “The stories of torture... seem to surpass each other in the army's inhuman treatment of the Nagas: men were tied to poles and burned; they were buried alive; their genitals were given electric currents. Each instance of torture was more gruesome and horrible than the next.”
The Indian Army wanted to assert political control, punish, terrorize and deter. “Almost every week reports of rapes and killings poured in.”
The Naga people understood perfectly. “ ‘Typical army retaliation. They never go after the guilty. They are too scared to. It's easier for them to pick up an unarmed civilian and made an example of him.’ ”
Will justice prevail? “ ‘This is not an ordinary war,’ shouted the officer. ‘This is a test of who has the stronger heart. The Indians may have more men and more guns, but this is our ancestral land to which we are bonded. The Indian soldier does not feel for the land as we do. Sooner or later we will defeat them. One day, they will have to retreat and admit that we were right.’ ”
But killings continue, intensifying the bitterness and stubborn determination. “If only people would work actively for peace as they worked for war. War was for the young, and only for short periods. It killed something in you if it was prolonged. This war was much bigger than an inter-village war, where another village could have intervened and made peace between the two warring villages. It was getting bigger than life, much, much bigger.”
So individuals and their lives look less unimportant. “We are losing all human decency and sense of taboo. Human life is becoming worthless and utterly dispensable.’ ”
Masterfully, Easterine presents India's equally futile and furious viewpoint by sending Mose's grandson, Neibou, to university in Delhi. Soon the boy meets Himmat, who once served with the Indian forces in Nagaland. Fascinatingly, the Naga teenager and this old man compare versions of history. “In my days there, I have known many soldiers who have been driven mad by seeing their mates killed beside them. They did terrible things to innocent civilians in turn. War is a dreadful thing.... It blinds you to the horror of what you are doing.”
What if Mose also encountered this old adversary? How flexible is the capacity to forgive? “ ‘I hope you can travel to Nagaland and meet my grandfather. That would be incredible,’ said Neibou sincerely.
‘It would be a great honour to meet a former warrior,’ Himmat replied. ‘Even though he was once my enemy, I bear him no ill-will. We were pawns in a bigger game, that’s all.’ ”
Even today, when Nagaland looks less volatile (at least on the surface), its people going elsewhere in India endure discrimination and violence. “It's deep-rooted racism and it's very ugly. The name-calling, the stereotyping of our girls and the way the police refuse to protect the victim, it just makes me feel very hopeless about the rights we have been promised by the Indian constitution.”
As Easterine explains, “This book is not about the leaders and heroes of the Naga struggle. It is about the ordinary people whose lives were completely overturned by the freedom struggle. The conflict is not more important than the people who are its victims.”
Through ordinary folks' eyes, the readers witness historic events. “Every evening, they sat after dinner and religiously listened to the news on the radio. On the 30th of January, when Mose turned on the radio, he immediately raised his hand, indicating that everyone should be quiet. He gasped as he listened to the news and put his ear close to the speaker. He then tried putting up the volume but there was a crackling sound as he did this, so he lowered it again. After the long broadcast, readings from the Hindu scriptures accompanied by the harmonium could be heard on the radio. Mose sat down and stated, ‘Gandhi was shot dead today!’ ”
The book's title refers not to bitterness against India, but to an herb long believed to repel bad spirits. Characters often reach for the reassuring herb, but it works imperfectly. “ ‘Bitter wormwood,’ said Rakesh wonderingly. ‘What an ominous name for a plant, yet kind of an interesting metaphor.’ ”
This novel's biggest flaw is that its dialogue about the political impasse never ends. Maybe unavoidably, it becomes repetitive and finally a little wearisome. “It's a vicious cycle that keeps repeating itself. The cycle of abuse. Those who are abused repeat their abuse on others. I've read that somewhere but have forgotten where.”
Yet other bits of dialogue hold profound wisdom. “The man who takes up the gun must be sure he does it for the right reasons. That reason... should be love, not hate.”
Annoyingly, the cover image goes unexplained. Maybe it's self-explanatory for Indian readers, but others would like to know exactly what it shows.
As Easterine's talent blooms, she turns more prolific. In 2012, she hopes to release three books. Her past titles include A Naga Village Remembered (2003), A Terrible Matriarchy (2007) and Mari (2010). She's also a partner in Barkweaver, a publishing house.
Having left her turbulent homeland to write about its woes from the comparative serenity of Norway, will Easterine ever weary of Nagaland and focus instead on Europe? Maybe not! Although safely resettled, her affections remain focused on Naga turf. Probably Norway's social and political problems look too mild to inspire her style of tales about persistence-despite-persecution.
Meanwhile in Nagaland, everything remains “steeped in grief. People smiled..., but there was always some terrible tragedy behind their smiles. Some member of the family killed in the war years with India or even now, young male relatives shot in factional encounters. It was as though all families carried unhealed wounds from the conflict in some way or the other.”
Approval rating: 83 per cent.
For more information: www.zubaanbooks.com
(January 23, 2012)
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