Gatherers Not Hunters

Paan Dukan

In the farther eastern end of the country, life moves slower. For Angam, it was even slower. His Arthritis has the better of him. The medications only made him drowsy and he hated it. From the bed, he could see the gallantry award framed neatly and hunged onto the wall.

 He used to be in the British Infantry fighting for the Queen in his youthful teens. He was only 18 when he was picked to join the infantry. He remembers signing up - standing on the muddy ground. It was raining and mothers and children were crying bidding farewell to their beloved and sons. 

He was so hungry that he almost collapsed at the final round of physical selection. Hunger was all he knew growing up. The British officials couldn't be any crueler than a mother losing her son on the battlefield. 

Rations from the public and local farmers were taken, some snatched and loaded into the train outbound for Bengal where all the infantry and military were gathered. He remembers his grandmother telling him stories of the time when Manipur was free from the reign of the British Empire and how the arrival of the empire cost them their food grains. 

In 1907, long before he was born, his grandmother and many other women folk led the first Nupi-Lal. The people of the land stills celebrate the courage and victory of those women even today, he was present when they celebrated the 100 years commemoration of the event in 2007. 

The rain was falling outside as he looks outside his tainted windows. 

The rain only reminded him of the day he and his troops were marching into the marsh to meet the Japanese soldiers. It was the first day he had eaten to his full. For a boy who doesn't see the future, fear and death are nothing but the ways of time. He still hears his friend's voice asking him what he will do after the war, although the face was not something he could bring himself to remember.

He did not hate the British then and he still has no hard feelings for the officials who treated and berated his people like animals. After all, they were the ones who gave him food knowing in retrospect that they were the ones to take them away in the first place. He doesn't have much to complain about, nor does he have anything to be overjoyed then and now.

He although lives contended yet he never understood nor wanted to be associated with the changes time has brought so far.

He bends to look through the window again, holding as tightly as he could to the rim of his bed. The 'Dukan' was open. 

He didn't care about the rain or the slippery red soil in the front yard. he hurried and walked over to the gate, unlatching the hook, almost as fast as a running sloth....he reached the shed of the shop. The 'Paan Dukan' sells nothing of his liking but he was there every day - rain or shine, it didn't matter. 

His friend would always come up with ideas every evening while they lay in the camp. One of the last was about him wanting to build a store and be economically self-reliant. He never understood the ideas of his friend. They always seem too big or too silly or simply just not possible. 

After he returned from the war he had nothing to do. So he set out to complete the task his friend would have if he had returned home alive with him. 

The 'Paan Dukan' that stands today by the side of the main highway was the only thing he knew that can teleport him to the days when he was young, wild, and free.

Humans are silly beings. We look for ways to keep ourselves connected to the past, even knowing how silly our wishful thinking can be. 

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This story is based on actual historical events. However, the character is merely a figment of my imagination. The purpose of the story is to highlight the events that have taken place, in places that are forgotten today.