Basanti Pur

Troubled Galaxy Destroyed Dreams

Palash Biswas

Chapter one

Basanti Pur

We are Bengali with grand cultural heritage, I realised this mythical self consciousness just after my existence as a human being shot from the Block.



But we are somewhat Subhuman as we happen to the Refugees, this feeling was working with disastrous impact on my growth. It was the hindrance we faced as a community banished and scattered from our Homeland, partitioned Bengal.



I was born and brought up in the Terai Region of Nainital Under United Uttar Pradesh. I had not to face the Holocaust physically. but the impact has been an ingredient of my existence since my childhood.



I belonged to a Dalit Bengali Refugee family. Outsiders would not practice untouchability against us as they could not understanding our social status. But every refugee village had a few Brahman Families of lower status thrown out from the Geopolitics of Bengal as we were.



We were destined in the same way. Underprivileged. But the Brahmans remained the masters of all cultural religious rituals.



I could not understand the Inequality and Injustice inherent. I would revolt any moment and refuge to show due respect to the Caste Hindu children as the total phenomenon of caste system was out of my understanding.



I would cry, ` Why? I am the first boy in the school! I am physically strong and I play better!I would not bow or bend my head before my Brahman friend as he happens to be quite an Idiot.’



It would happen every time as the Brahmins boys were entitled to perform different rituals to please thirty three Corers of gods and goddesses and their incarnations. They were meant to help us to drive away all the evil forces bad for us, our cattle and Harvest. But they would tremble with fear while I would scare them creating all types of Horror with Ghost stories.



These were the occasions while any of the Elder folk around would thrash me! It was a torture as I was never ready to accept nonintellectual superiority inherent.



I would always demand equality. Some times very foolishly. The result was same inevitable thrashing.



My family which was incidentally a joint peasant family migrated from East Bengal, never believed in Job Migration. They insisted to bring up me as a helping hand in all the tasks of Cultivating land.



Suppose I was trying the odd questions of mathematics and someone called me for a helping hand, simply I would ignore. It was quite amusing that I used to be thrashed often just continuing my studies.



My father never believed that any of us was predestined. He dreamt me to grow as anyone like Tagore, Netaji, Jawahar or Ambedkar. He used to visit Kolkata every Year to get some Bengali books for me which were unavailable in the refugee colonies.



Father used to get Basumati, the prominent Bengali daily published from Kolakata by mail. He would bring the issues of Desh or any little magazines. He had been always very particular to get all types of literature for me since my childhood.



Others thought that he was a little bit over engaged with me. It was not that I lacked any affection from my family or neighbourhood. Contrarily, everyone in the family, village and the region invested infinite Love in me. But none of them was in a position to visualise my father`s dreams or my ambitions.


We wanted to break the sickles from the very beginning.



My father led the first Mass Movement in the jungles of Terai in 1956 before my birth. It was a refugee movement.After this movement, three new refugee colonies were established in Dineshpur refugee area. A Junior High school got started. Refugees got an Industrial Training Institute, ITI, popularly known. They also got a primary health centre for thirty six refugee colonies in all.



My village happened to be one of the three new villages established. It consisted of forty families. families coming from different parts of East Bengal, Jassore, Khulna and Barishal. Most of the villagers belonged to Khulna and they were Paundra, another dalit caste except two Brahmin families.



We belonged to Jassore. Just two families were from Jassore in this village, including ours. We were Namoshudras. Only six or seven families were namoshudras. While all the Namoshudra dominant villages insisted that our family should settle with them. But my father Pulin Babu, popularly known refused. Our villagers have been together in refugee camps of West Bengal, Orrissa and Vijaynagar camp in the Terai. They were my Father`s life long companions and we had no blood or caste relations amongst us.



They were my father`s comrades who mobilised different refugee movement countrywide.

My father did not get any Horoscope for any of the children in the family. no one celebrated our Birth days. As it was always customary to remember any Birthday with some remarkable incidents like any natural hazard.



In the Bengali refugee area in Dineshpur, they remembered our Birth Days co related with the Refugee Movement 1956. The Police evicted the refugees from the venue of demonstration in Rudrapur, now known nationwide as an Industrial zone and Information Technology centre. It is also the district headquarter of Udham Singh Nagar in Uttarakhand.



My people marched from Dineshpur and crossed the Nine Miles distance by foot with women folk and children. They were thrown in the distant forest of kelakhera in darkness of late night. But never did they surrender and the government of Uttar Pradesh had to accept their demand for rehabilitation.



In those days, my father took a vow that he would not wear a shirt ever until and unless all Bengali refugees ousted from their homeland in East Bengal were rehabiliatated. He died in 2001 and lived his life without any shirt.



My villagers named my village after my Mother Basanti Devi`s name Basantipur. That year, the village witnessed the birthdays of three boys. firs me, then Hari and lastly Tekka appeared in the village. We were close most friends and we are even today.


My Village Basanti Pur remained a family always. In our childhood we were never restricted anywhere in the village and we were the children of every family. We would play anywhere. We would sleep anywhere. We would take a bath anywhere. We could eat anywhere.

All of us were refugees. Basantipur was the name of this Identity.



Before coming to Nainital, my father and all the villagers used to live in a Refugee camp near Cuttak in Orissa. My maternal got rehabilitation in Baripada. they belonged the Barishal.

Having shifted to Basantipur, my mother never visited her parents` home in Orissa. Her father died. My maternal uncle visited us. My father would visit Baripada so often as he was the President of All India Bengali Udvastu (Refugee) Samiti. He would visit refugees scattered countrywide all the year round and would fight for their rights anywhere anytime.



My Mother remained in the village to look after the family as well as the village, named after her. She never left her village. She brethed last in basantipur as my father did.



They wished to remain with the villagers and the village even in Death!