The Assamese in the Assam Agitation: Book Review of Dhrubajyoti Borah’s “The Rainbow Runners”
“The Rainbow Runners” is everything other than a thriller; it’s a Naipaulesque literary drama.
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“Your past shall always come back, come back and catch hold of you. There is no escape from the past.”
In the endorsements. Sanjay Hazarika quoted,
“ […] With elegance, felicity and poignancy, Dhrubajyoti Borah paints the challenges of the times with clear strokes, reminding us that the past is our shadow and not just the moment behind us.”
That is what describes the book to its fullest.
The Assam agitation that engulfed the Brahmaputra valley in the late 1970s marked something like an independence movement in the history of this state. The Rainbow Runners by Dhrubajyoti Borah, translated by the author from his Assamese book Artha, literally translates to ‘meaning,’ creates a backdrop during that agitation.
In the Brahmaputra Valley’s sand mines, Sriman witnesses the murder of an unknown man, a haunting experience that no newspaper reports. This crime plagues Sriman’s mind, blurring the line between sanity and madness. Obsessed, he can’t escape the nightmare or confide in anyone. Questions torment him: Who was the victim? Why is this murder being erased from existence? Who or what is stalking him — is it his own guilt?
When the crime and the following secret killings finally appear in the news, Sriman’s nightmares intensify, becoming a personal torment. He leaves his journalism job to join his childhood friend, Ramen, in construction, where they make alliances with underground leaders. The first crime he witnesses torments him to date; the latter one in the jungle eliminates his terror, numbing his fear by reflecting a burning Assam on the brink of decay.
In the second part of the book, while running a trekking business in the Dhauladhar ranges, Sriman meets an Indian-origin foreign woman at a base camp. She opts out of trekking to explore with him. Sriman, with fragmented memories of his past traumas, finds solace in her company. Ramen has remained his steadfast companion throughout the years, making him a partner in business and crime. The woman, a divorcee with a son, seeks to escape her loneliness, while Sriman grapples with his feelings for her — love or infatuation? Their intimacy brings enlightenment, yet Sriman is caught in a web of unfulfilled love, self-deception, and awakening. The relationship with the woman evolves from primal lust to a transformative, almost spiritual connection, influenced by Buddhist teachings. He reflects on his past, once passionate about exposing evils and fleeing from nightmares, now questioning the meaning of it all. Their connection, larger than life, embodies themes of escapism and finding purpose, which gives the “meaning” to this Assamese title, The Rainbow Runners/Artha.
The Rainbow Runners is everything other than a thriller; it’s a Naipaulesque literary drama. Both parts of this book are polar opposites and offer completely different worlds and ideas.
The Assamese agitation, insurgency, and underground movement are the biggest stakeholders in the story. Many things are totally in the dark, just like the secret killings, as if human life has no value. The social commentary at places like the bomb blast and frequent secret killings proves it. In Temsula Ao’s These Hills Called Home, we can explore more of that horror in much more detail.
“In reality the age of simplicity and innocence is over in Assam. You can say — the end of innocence…”
The fast-paced third-person narrative perspective portrays themes ranging from loneliness, the lost innocence of Assam, literature, culture, politics, social evils, and mental health. Multiple social and religious commentary on spineless journalism, exploitation of women, institutionalized and organised religions, Buddhism, and the concept of immortality heightens the essence of the book.
After all this time, the pang of separation and the dream of returning home highlight the characters’ desire, where everyone is fleeing from something in the beginning. Refugee and emigrant life, be it in the Tibet Independence Movement or during the period of Assam agitation — a sense of freedom lurks, but people are already slaves to their consciousness.
Although in the final 40 pages, the narrative becomes a silver lining, still somewhere in the middle with all these themes and commentary, it makes the book much more convoluted. In the end, it is all about the tussle between fate and the future — a dream of a utopian society and home calling — a quest to find hope and meaning.
But,
“Can people really escape from their memories?”
This review is written by Kaustav Das .
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