It's a clear December evening in Itanagar and there is a nip in the air. Bonfires keep the revellers warm as poka, the traditional fermented rice-beer, flows freely. As flame-haired Jeli Kayi, 23, starts singing Sheila ki Jawani, fashionably dressed young girls and boys take to their feet and sing along with the young performer.
This is a surprise, but one that can be explained: the state has accepted Hindi as the official language even though it's not the mother tongue of any of the 26 major tribes and 100 sub-tribes living there. According to an INDIA TODAY-Synovate poll, an overwhelming 95 per cent of Arunachalis want to be part of India. It's something that Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao needs to keep in mind when he visits India this week.
While China describes Arunachal Pradesh as South Tibet, the Dalai Lama made the emphatic assertion in 2009 that Tawang was very much a part of India.
Arunachal Pradesh's recall factor to mainland memory has always been the border tussle between India and China. While the McMahon Line reflected the 1914 Simla Accord between British and Tibet, this demarcation was never accepted by China and was enforced by India only from 1950. Till 1949, the Gaden Namgyal Lhatse,
popularly called the Tawang monastery, was paying tribute to Tibet. It was not incorporated in India till an Indian Frontier Service officer from Manipur, Bob Kathing, flew the Indian flag atop the town, perched at 10,000 ft above sea-level. "The Dalai Lama voiced what we have felt for years. We are part of India," says Guru Tulku Rinpoche, abbot of the Tawang monastery, the second largest in Asia.
"The border was never an overriding concern among the people. Today the issue is about good governance or the lack of it," says Mamang Dai, the first IAS officer from the state and now a well-known columnist.
Of the state's 3,863 villages, only 1,743 are connected by roads. "It is common for people in some areas to walk more than a week to fetch daily amenities. Even a kilogram of salt can cost Rs 150 here," says Arunachal Pradesh Chief Minister Dorjee Khandu as he sits dressed in white with portraits of Rajiv Gandhi, Pratibha Patil and Manmohan Singh on the wall behind him. Almost 33.47 per cent of Arunachal Pradesh's meagre 11 lakh population lives below the poverty line and ranks lowest in the Human Development Index in the North-east.
Khandu puts the blame on the Centre's apathetic policies. But there are not many takers as 70 per cent people blame the state politicians for their plight in the INDIA TODAY-Synovate poll. "We had a golden opportunity to exploit the Centre's attention given to the border state after the 1962 Sino-India war. Delhi directed a lot of funds into the state but the local leaders were not able to utilise the situation to develop this state and its people," says Jarpum Gamlin, CEO of The Sentinel Arunachal, a local English newspaper.
Corruption and lack of opportunities have left the youth disillusioned. According to the National Sample Survey Organisation (1999-2000), there are almost 0.8 per cent educated unemployed youth in rural areas and 3 per cent in urban areas. Unlike most states in the North-east, there is no secessionist movement here yet, but it won't be long before things change if the Government doesn't shift its attention to 41.03 per cent of the population between the ages of 13 and 35. "The future for the youth is grim in the state which has no youth policy. We want to remain a part of India, but if the Government does not act fast, the youth will rise," warns 28-year-old Takam Tatung, president of All Arunachal Pradesh Students' Union (AAPSU). The AAPSU had publicly burnt Chinese goods in February this year to protest China's claim over the state and with its five-lakh strong membership, this pressure group wields considerable influence.
Seeking opportunities beyond the borders of the state also doesn’t appeal to many. Tatung himself shudders at the thought of making a livelihood in the metros. In 1998, while participating in the All India Karate Competition in Mumbai, he got into a fight with other participants who called him Bahadur. “It’s a term used for Nepalis, I’m not a Nepali. We face a lot of discrimination outside,”
says Tatung.
But the fear of being harassed for their features has not curbed the musical journey of a young Hindi rock band called The Mangalz, now based in Delhi, or prevented 18-year-old Teji Toko from participating in India’s Got.
Talent Khoj-2. “When I was 16, I tried to start a band back home but failed
as the technical standards were low and there was no sponsorship and guidance,” says 23-year old Haggai Rongmei who is the group’s solo guitarist. He hums the song Kaash and the lyrics echo ills such as corruption and social injustice against women; issues which are more relevant in Arunachal Pradesh today than China’s claim on the state.
In traditional male-chauvinistic Arunachali society, women are barred from assuming positions of authority and cannot inherit immovable marital property without a male offspring. Gender equality here is a distant dream. For 47-year-old.
Jarjum Ete, one of the best-known political activists from the state, the emergence of women from the shadows of polygamy, abuse and child marriage is the most important task at hand. Even though opportunities have opened up after the introduction of the 73rd Amendment Act, not much ground has been covered in terms of actual political participation of women. In the last Assembly polls, there were only five women candidates in the 60 constituencies. While panchayat reservation in 2004 opened up avenues, the marginal fall in 2009 is a cause for concern.
“In 2004, 38.5 per cent women were elected in panchayat elections but it dropped to 38 per cent in 2009. Though minimal, it’s still a decline and we need to be careful as men are still resisting the participation of women in politics,” says Ete who has been denied the Congress party ticket on several occasions. For 80-year-old Leki Wangmo, dressed in traditional Monpa attire, women’s emancipation means little.
She was lucky to be the only wife for her husband (unusual in a state where polygamy is common) and spent the better part of her life taking care of him and her small kitchen garden. She smiles as her daughter, Kesam Pema, 36, explains how they earned their livelihood through their only yak. Wangmo is part of the older generation who cannot speak Hindi and Pema is the link between her Hindi-speaking children and their grandmother, Wangmo.
The growing popularity of Hindi and Christianity worries documentary film-maker Moji Riba, 36, who left for home in 1997 after completing a Masters in Mass Communications from Jamia Millia Islamia, Delhi. Riba has tried to create awareness among the youth and encourage community documentation through his Centre for Cultural Research and Documentation. “Tribal languages are dying due to migration to urban areas. There is also large scale conversion to Christianity in central Arunachal Pradesh leading to the loss of traditional rituals,” says Riba who won the 2008 Rolex Award for Enterprise. Even though the Donyo Polo religion has been trying to reinvent itself by combining some elements of Hinduism and Christianity, the number of Christian converts is increasing. “I feel the figure for Christianity will be much higher in the next Census than the current 18.7 per cent,” says the young man dressed in trendy jeans.
As evening gives way to night, shops shut by 7 p.m. and roads are deserted in Itanagar leaving behind a palpable restlessness in the air. The young want promises to be kept, the old are still figuring out where they went wrong, women hanker for a platform to be heard and China is not even an issue. “We are making headlines for all the wrong reasons. Our issues are the same as in any part of
India—development and dignity,” says Omak Apang, 39, Congress leader and son of former chief minister Gegong Apang. “Now time has come for us to look beyond the border issue which should not hinder us from moving ahead,” says General (Retd.) J.J. Singh, Governor of Arunachal Pradesh, who served in the state as part of the Maratha Light Infantry. Just like the treacherous roads in the mountain-state, the road ahead is tricky. The onus is on the state leadership to turn it around and give that 70 per cent of the population, who have lost faith in them, a reason to believe again.
