Sangeeta Barooah Pisharoty’s ‘The Assamese: A Portrait of a Community’ discusses the angst of a lost identity

Parbina Rashid

It starts with a simple question: ‘Ami kun (Who are we)?’ It brings on more questions. ‘Who am I when I say I am Assamese?’ True, identity consciousness has been a salient feature of the Assamese society. After all, Assam is the only state where the Central government had to institute a high-powered committee in 2019 to define who the Assamese people are. And now, we the lucky ones have a legit document as a proof of our Assameseness! Never mind that even in the historic Assam Accord of 1985, the identity of the Assamese people remains undefined.

That’s handling the issue at the macro level. But for those like Pisharoty and me, who chose to marry outside of our community, outside of the state, the identity issue gets a lot more personal. So, here comes the next set of questions: ‘Where do I belong?’ ‘How much do I belong?’ Such a set of introspections on Pisharoty’s part has resulted in this voluminous book.

A seasoned journalist, Pisharoty begins at the beginning — the genesis of the community. Her painstaking research takes her to the historical and etymological roots of the word ‘Assam’. In that process, she understands that similar to the Aryans’ entry into mainland India from the Northwest 3,000-4,000 years ago, there was an influx of tribes of Mongolian origin into Assam. And from there on started the complex story of obliteration and assimilation.

Adding layers to that story is the evolution of Assamese language, which comes under the title ‘Sily Siken and X-Factor’. It might sound ‘silly’ to others, but we do relish our siken (chicken) with or without sily (chilly)! And, we do have the X-factor. Asom, for us, is Axom or Oxom. The author may be S-angeeta for the rest of the world, but for Assamese speakers she is X-ongita.

The (mis)pronunciation aside, she dives deep to explain the influence of several other languages, like Paishachi, as well as the Tibeto-Burman and Austric groups on the Assamese language. She touches the uncomfortable subject of linguistic hegemony in this region, which has as many as 55 languages (including dialects). She observes the same in cultural aspects too.

Assamese literature also finds a prominent place in the book. She introduces the readers to stalwarts such as Mahim Bora, Syed Abdul Malik, Indira Goswami and Prabina Saikia, whose writings on social realism enriched the golden era of Assamese literature from the mid-20th century onwards. Pisharoty’s attempt to find her roots also leads her into diverse fields like music, dance, cinema, drama, visual art, craft, traditional weaves and jewellery.

However, the chapter that stands out for me is on Assamese cuisine. Eastern food habits in India have been equated with Bengali cuisine, leaving out a wide gamut of diverse cuisines that can only enrich the country’s food experience and history, she observes. Yes, we have our khaar (an alkaline concoction made from burnt banana peel), we have our tenga (acidic dishes) and titta (the bitters). We also have an affinity for fermented food, be it poita bhaat (fermented rice), khorisa (fermented bamboo shoot) or dried fish. Not to forget the burha tamul (fermented areca nut), which is chewed with paan leaf. To quote Pisharoty’s grandmother, it’s a ‘mouthful of bliss’.

For those who believe that eating meat defines one’s purity, here is some information. At the Ugra Tara temple, fish curry with rice is served as prasad. In Nabagraha, ducks and goats are sacrificed. There, vegetarian khichdi is prepared in small quantity, only for Brahmin widows and devotees with high blood pressure. Including meat in the diet has long been an integral part of Assamese identity, with frogs, snails, red ants and all!

Each chapter is a standalone mine of information with Pisharoty connecting them with anecdotes from her own life and dialogues with others. They are riveting and I see glimpses of my own life in them, but do I find the answers which started the whole conversation? No, not until I get to the Appendix, which enlists a posy of voices from prominent names.

At the macro level, I find my answer in eminent filmmaker Jahnu Barua’s statement, “The first Ahom King, Chaolung Sukapha, and saint Sri Sri Sankadev defined for us long ago who is an Assamese. It’s a language-centric identity, has nothing to do with religion, caste, or creed.” And, at the personal level, I am wholeheartedly with X-ongita when she quotes Bhupen Hazarika’s timeless number ‘Moi Eti Jajabor (I Am a Nomad)’, ‘someone collecting myriad experiences, the scent of life; to exist on a wider plane and become a world citizen thus, and yet remain a khaar-khowa Axomiya’. Yes, I, for one, would love to remain in that space!