3 Generations in Assam, Now Suddenly Outsiders

By Samudra Gupta Kashyap

It was around 5 pm. The sun had just set at Belsiri, a tiny halt on the Rangiya-Murkongselek metre gauge rail line in Sonitpur district in northern Assam. In the small daily bazaar held just behind the railway station, 100-odd people were gathered, some in the small barber shop run by Ramji Thakur, attached to his thatch-and-bamboo house.

Out of nowhere, shots rang out. Thakur was the first to fall, followed by his son Parameswar. His daughter-in-law Mano Devi, also shot, tried to run, but collapsed.

Ramji’s wife Sonajhari Devi was saying her evening prayers, lighting a diya, when she heard the shots. At first she thought it was children bursting leftover Diwali crackers. And then she heard Mano’s scream. In seconds, half of her family was wiped out.

The gunmen, six of them, riding bicycles, moved on to a nearby tea-stall, where they killed Ram Narayan Shah. His nephew Dilip Shah, who owned a paan shop, tried to run but was chased and shot.

Of the 20-odd permanent shops and houses in the area, the Thakurs live in one. The area has people of various communities — Bodos, Assamese, Biharis, Adivasis, Bengalis and Nepalis. Since Monday, the Thakurs, who moved here three generations ago, have a new identity — “outsiders”.

Originally from Bihar, they speak Hindi. That was enough for the anti-talk faction of the National Democratic Front of Bodoland (NDFB), that had a week before said it would kill 20 “Indians” to avenge the death of a cadre at the hands of security forces, to target them.

With five persons gunned down, all the residents of the village have fled. “Some have taken shelter in houses of friends and relatives nearby. Some are yet to be traced,” said ASI M N Bora. Since Tuesday night, he has been at the Missamari police station. While Belsiri is just 10 km from the police station, two unrepaired bridges mean a detour amounting to 40 km.

“I had gone to bring back cows from the nearby field when I saw people fleeing for their lives. Three hours later, after the police arrived, I returned to find that three of my family dead,” said Jitender Thakur, the eldest son of Ramji Thakur, who is also a barber.

Standing next to her orphaned grandchildren — Anjali (8) and Manoj (6) — Sonajhari Devi says she can’t understand what her family had done wrong. She has taken shelter in the house of Bheem Rai, a chowkidar in the Belsiri tea estate across the railway track.

“My husband’s father came here as a barber (from Arrah district in Bihar) when he was a young boy of 17 or 18. My grandchildren go to the Assamese Mezengjuli Primary School,” she said. Above all, Mano was a native Bodo. In this Bodo-dominated area, Sonajhari had always felt secure because of that.

Mano Devi’s father and Ramji’s neighbour, 82-year-old Sushil, is equally distraught. “Everybody around knew that my daughter was married to Ramji Thakur’s son,” he said. “Why did they kill her? Why did they consider Ramji’s family outsiders?”