Caught in a Shootout

 Hello again, dear friends! It’s so good to have another new post on the blog! This is Vijaya Sarmah’s second story here. The first, ‘The Wedding Invitation’ (link in writer’s  bio below ) was a most amusing account of one of those quaint customs that you could only find in a tea garden. This one is in a different vein - and it is a reminder that life in Tea is no picnic! Enjoy your read! -Gowri 

This incident took place when we were in Achabam T.E. of Dibrugarh district.

It was at the time when militancy movements were strong and the entire state was under the Armed Forces Act.

(The AFSPA is now operational only in eight districts of Assam. Dibrugarh is still one of them.) It was hard to believe that in the lush green tea gardens there lurked dangers. That amidst the greneery there were incidents of gunshots and fire. That beneath the placid, serene environment there were terror and trepidation and days were lived in constant fear.

The voice of Bishnu, our chowkidar, woke us up.

I switched on the light and saw the clock showed the time as 2:20 am.

'Sir, army aya hain’, Bishnu said.

I got jittery. Why was the army coming at such uncanny hour? Were they actually army people or dacoits in army fatigues?!

My husband Jayanta however immediately went outside.

I was greatly nervous. I looked at the boys who were sleeping on the bed next to ours.

Thankfully my fears were unfounded, as Jayanta came back and told me an Army officer had come to inform him that there would be a search operation in the garden in the morning and they were waiting for the first light of the dawn.

The army's intelligence wing had got information of some militants hiding in our estate.

At 6 :15 am Jayanta left for office.

It was another rush morning hour for me.

Both the boys were young and needed my help in putting on their school uniforms, buttoning the shirts,wearing the ties, tying the shoe laces.

I had to be on my toes most mornings.

So just like other days I dressed up the boys, packed the tiffins, cheked their bags and finally readied myself for the day.

I worked in the same school ( St. Mary's Naharkatia) where my boys were studying.

Like all other days, I looked forward to the day, my classes, meeting my students and colleagues.

The small incident of the night was completely forgotten in the warmth of the morning sun.

It was like 'Raat Gayi, Baat Gayi '.

At eight a m the Estate School bus honked outside our bungalow. The three of us and the boys' nanny Wahida hurried to the bus.

Younger son Zit's classes got over at 12:30 pm.

Since I had to be in school till 3:30 pm Wahida collected him and returned in the same bus at half time.

The bus made four up and down trips everyday.

Like all other days the bus was full with school children.

There was another teacher from St.Mary's.

So including myself, Wahida, the teacher, one driver and one bus conductor there were five adults.

The rest were all students studying in the town's different schools.

Our bus had moved just a few meters when we heard a commotion.

The driver stopped the bus, as some army men shouted to him 'Bus roko, aage goli chal rahin hai '. ( Stop the bus, shootout is going on ahead) , one soldier said.

It was then that the forgotten incident of the night came to my mind.

So there were actually militants hiding in the estate somewhere amidst the tea bushes.

I was almost in tears.We were caught in a real army shootout. We could not move forward or go backwards. Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. I also had to guard the students, particularly the senior students who wanted to get down from the bus.

It was a hard time controlling the boys.

It was almost forty minutes of breathstopping moments . It was for the first time I felt time going slow. Each minute was like an eon. My heart was in my mouth. We sat helpless inside the bus with only prayers on our lips.

'Please keep the children safe, please let this moment pass'. I pleaded to God.

From the bus window I watched the world outside .

There were no signs of any troubles or turmoil outside.

The tea bushes stood so peacefully . The tall shirish trees stirred in the light morning breeze.The sun was warm and appeasing. The autumn sky was clear and translucent.

It was also for the first time I saw the serenity in the green of the tea bushes and the blue sky.

In the hurried rush pace of my busy schedule I never cared to pause and enjoy the beauties so close to me.

How tranquil is nature's world compared to the world of humans.

Nature is not selfish or greedy like man. Nature has no demands or needs. She gives herself wholly to  spreading happiness in every heart without asking rewards.

In that distressing moments I also realized how uncertain is life .

A stray bullet might fly and hit anyone in the bus that autumn morning.

Just a few minutes previously our petty worries on life and livelihood became meaningless in those few moments.

After forty minutes, the army gave us the All Clear signal and our bus could move.

No one talked, not even the young children who are the most talkative, uttered anything till we reached school.

We reached very late and had to make  a long explanation to the school authorities.

Meet the writer:

Vijaya Sarmah 

It's been twenty two years in tea. I used to write one or two poems here and there for my college magazine but that was all. I did my Masters in English from Guwahati University.

Worked in local schools, wherever my husband got posted  - sadly nowhere more than two years - from Hatigor Army School to Bagrakote Army School in Dooars, then Naharkatia St. Mary's, again at Shankardev  Bidya Niketan, in Mazbat, Assam. 

 

We have two boys, both live away from home. I don't work anywhere at present, like to wield my pen now and then as I have nothing much to do in the house. I've published some poems in The Assam Tribune and  The Woman's Era magazine.

Read all Vijaya’s stories here: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Vijaya%20Sarmah

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! Do you have a chai story of your own to share? Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com.

 My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog in 2018 because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always) - maybe a tall tale, maybe long, short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. You will find yourself transported to another world! This is the link to all the stories on this blog: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/ Be sure to add it to your list of favourites! Happy reading!! Cheers to the spirit of Indian tea!