IT’S TRUE. WE DO, indeed we do, love Bandhs. Over the decades, we have proved, quite gloriously, and most convincingly, that we have a deep seated, passionate love affair with this thing called a Bandh.

It’s no point arguing with us about the ill effects of having a Bandh. Of course, we know all about how detrimental a single day’s Bandh can be. Reams have been written about the economic loss that a Bandh entails. Much research has gone into quantifying the losses that Bandhs have caused our already impoverished State. The “glorious” days of the Assam Agitation, when Bandhs were called at the drop of a japi, ruined our economy, well and proper, but so what? It gave us such a taste of that splendid thing called a “Bandh”, that we pine and become irritable if a single month goes by without a Bandh of some kind.

All of us know that the daily wage earner’s already precarious budget goes into a tailspin with every Bandh call. We know, too, that students notch up unquantifiable losses every time a Bandh makes it impossible to attend class, or even give important examinations. We have all felt the stress of having to reschedule meetings, weddings, conferences to accommodate a Bandh. We have seen the kind of distress that the sick and the aged are subject to during a Bandh. And yet, we succumb to a Bandh call without a murmur of protest, in such a way that one cannot help suspecting that it is because these Bandhs feed a secret need.

After all, we are all perfectly aware that we, of all people, can ill afford the luxury of having a Bandh. We do not need experts to tell us that, do we, any more? It’s not as though our society is composed of millionaires, all them lolling on mountains of inherited wealth. With per capita income so abysmally low here, with all kinds of problems buffeting us from all sides, with our human development indices languishing so alarmingly near the bottom, it is indeed amazing that we can still think of “honouring” a Bandh call so completely the moment we hear a whisper of one. So what is it about our psyche that makes the observance of Bandhs so irresistible to us? Can it be that we are actually addicted to Bandhs? Can it also be that we suffer withdrawal symptoms when we go without Bandhs for some time? One thinks that yes, it may indeed be so.

This addiction has its roots, as we all know, in our history. A bandh, or strike, or hartal, was a non violent form of protest against imperial powers before we got our independence. Now, even though we have democratic institutions firmly in place, we have still not been able to move away from the “Bandh culture”, as it is euphemistically known. Even though there are perfectly valid ways of making our opinions known, and of bringing about change through democratic means, we are still loath to leave the wonderful Bandh behind.

Most of us living in today’s Assam were born well after Independence , so we cannot really say that our habit is a spillover from those days. Yet many of us do remember the days of the Assam Agitation, when observing a Bandh call given by AASU was synonymous with affirming one’s patriotism, and one’s commitment to the welfare of one’s motherland. The many strands of political activity in those times wove such a tangled web that it was often seen that Bandh callers indulged in calling a total halt to all activities for one, two, even three days at a time, (on occasion even more) merely to score points over each other. In this game of one-upmanship, people’s participation was complete, and joyful. So what if they – we – were the ultimate losers? We embraced all Bandhs with gusto, and looked with jaundiced eyes at those who had the cheek to actually go to work on those days. If a factory owner, hard pressed to meet deadlines, dared to keep his machines running during a Bandh call, he had to do it sneakily, behind downed shutters, as though actually producing tangible goods for economic gain was a shameful thing to do. In any case, goons coming and spouting jingoistic phrases such as, “Our Motherland is burning, and yet you keep your factory open?” was a common occurrence. It was a different matter that one could never actually understand the logic behind these statements. In any case, it was no wonder that so many small enterprises went belly up in those days, for no fault of those poor entrepreneurs who invested time, money, and hard work into them, all in vain.

Leaving all that aside, we can see how the roots of our addiction to Bandhs lie in that time. Today, any Bandh caller can be assured of a modicum of success, especially in the areas away from the city of Guwahati proper. Things have come to such a pass that one can count on the fingers of one’s hand those days that are not Bandh days. But do the people mind? Not in the least. In fact, if anything, they go around gloating, “So, this is a one day/two day/three day Bandh before us!” as though they have discovered the secret of universal happiness.

In Guwahati, some of the more obscure Bandh callers cannot be as sure of success these days as they were previously. Still, that’s no reason to rejoice. Bandhs are observed for the most illogical of reasons. A horrendous bomb blast evokes a knee jerk reaction of having a Bandh. And the spiral of one upmanship continues, as all political wannabes get into the act, calling Bandhs right, left and centre.

Why is it that we forget that unless we co operate, Bandh callers will not succeed? True, there is the element of fear. Nobody wants to be singled out for that stone thrown by a Bandh caller, or supporter, as we go about our work. But these days, Bandh enforcers are few and far between. Mostly, they call the Bandh, which the newspapers faithfully report, and then vanish from the scene, secure that they have brought the State to its knees. And in this context, let us not forget that the media is the Bandh caller’s greatest ally. Unless they spread the word about the Bandh call, how will we know about it?

Many of these Bandhs are called just ahead of, or behind a weekend. Here, one must admire the pragmatism of the Bandh callers, of all hues. Who can resist the lure of haring off on a three day break, and at the same time, feel virtuous that one is doing one’s bit for the motherland? It’s so much better, even, than signing online petitions, or lighting candles. By not working, one can see tangible results…one can see things grinding to a halt.

That, one suspects, must be the real reason why Bandhs are so successful here. It may be that the sense of power, however diffused, that one feels as one participates in a Bandh, is, in a perverse kind of way, so addictive. Besides, there is the wonderful high of being able to say sanctimoniously, “No no, of course I didn’t go to work. I stayed at home, caught up on my sleep, watched cricket…after all, I care for my Ai Asom. I want her to prosper. How can prosperity come if we actually decide to work?”

All Things Considered, therefore, it seems unlikely that we will be able to give up these simple pleasures of observing a Bandh anytime soon. In the meantime, one hopes that our Bandh callers are thinking up ever newer reasons for exhorting us to rise up and observe a Bandh for the good of the Motherland.

MITRA PHUKAN