I found this site a few months ago and thought I should share this with netters. Its basically about a Vet. Dr. (who helped in projects at Assam Veterinary College and Assam Agriculture College) wrote letters, kept notes while he was in the NE in the early 60s.
He has given a description about Nehru's visit to Assam (after the language riots in the 60s), his experiences in opening vet. clinics, impressions about tamul/paan. There is also on one Kaziranga, N. Lakhimpur, Tezpur, Gauhati, On the whole, its basically his impressions, some of them are condescending (maybe), while in others he is intrigued, but it does take us back into those days in the 60s. Interestingly enough, Nehru was in Assam because "Assam was the most geographically isolated and most politically neglected state of all India. Yet Assam was a critical area for India's survival" Anyway, I found it to be an interesting read. Seems like this Doctor's son has setup the web page where a special section has been devoted to the NE. Hope you all enjoy it. http://homepage.mac.com/muirpower/docsstory/ http://homepage.mac.com/muirpower/docsstory/indias_jaws_of_death.html Gauhati, Assam, India October 28, 1962 Dear Son: So you would like to hear more details of my adventures along the Northeast Frontier Agency? In this letter I will attempt to bring you up to date on my recent vigil under rough circumstances at my wilderness clinic near North Lankinpur. In this remote area there are no distinct boundary lines. There have been many disputes among the tribal communities. Today we have been exposed to six different tribes. Assam has a total of 365 tribes. After leaving Tezpur, the winding roads following the twisting small stream edges were full of chuckholes and rocks. No bridges. We were able to cross the streams at designated places. Fording was possible, but dangerous. Many vehicles received broken axles when their wheels slipped from the soap-slick boulders. My driver threw me a big smile each time we had a successful crossing. My driver on this trip was a slender, sickly man approaching his retirement years. His name was Sandra Das. I called him Sandy even though he had black hair. He had learned, through experience, the ways of hardship. His small waistline and weak muscles were proof of malnutrition. I could see tears forming in his eyes when he was faced with a flat tire or a serious car problem. We realized his waning strength would present an ordeal which in his youthful years would have been a pleasant challenge. In India, instead of chewing tobacco, many men and women chew a concoction called tamil, pan shun. This consists of a small section of raw areca nut sprinkled with slaked lime, then folded in a green tamil leaf. This is chewed by many India natives. This concoction results in bright red spitum which colors the teeth and mouth lining. It is an unsightly mess, but intestinal parasites such as tapeworms cannot survive in this toxic mixture. On my first sighting of these red-mouthed people my first impression was they had bleeding teeth. It seemed that most of the drivers assigned to me indulged in this dirty habit and Sandy was no exception. During the last few weeks of my tour of duty in Assam, the daily news told of the restlessness along the Northeast Frontier Agency border in which area we were travelling. China and India were in conflict regarding the boundary line. China had already gobbled up Tibet and seemed to be intent of acquiring this part of India. Do you remember our farewell dinner for you and your mother last year just before you two returned to the U.S.A.? The cook for that banquet had served as guide for three groups of refugees fleeing Tibet to India. Now new flare-ups of Chinese aggression are frequent news items. We met a large convoy of Indian Military men this afternoon. We had to wait for their passage since the narrow roadway was not wide enough to allow two-way traffic. I noted the military vehicles were all U.S.A. manufactured. Several vehicles were loaded with big guns. About three o'clock this afternoon we reached a small village. Our spare tire was slowly leaking air. We had already punctured another tire. We could anticipate more trouble. There was not a garage or service station in this remote village. Nearly everyone rode bicycles. The narrow unpaved streets were dusty. People shared them with big Brahma Bulls. Red underfed cows swarmed the street freely and a herd of goats scurried along the narrow roadway. No passage for cars. We parked three blocks away from a bicycle repair shop and rolled two tires to it for repair. The repair men only had flat-iron hand tools made from broken springs of automobiles. The source of air was a hand powered bicycle pump. Can you imagine the ordeal required to inflate two big jeep truck tires? It was apparent that we would be delayed several hours. Most of the repair shops in this frontier country want to keep a jeep tire all day long for repair. My driver stayed at the tire repair shop during the flat-fixing procedure. I walked around the village going from one dingy shop to another in search of local items of trade or novelties. The bazaar had small open-air bins. The meat was covered with banana leaves in a home-woven basket for refrigeration. Two hours had passed when a local tribal Indian tapped me on the shoulder and motioned for me to follow him. "Now what?" I pondered. Where did he want me to go? I'm not eager to follow strangers in a strange country, however, he made me understand the druggist wanted to see me. The pharmacist was from Pakistan. He spoke good English. He began with an apology. "I'm sorry you have been delayed in this little village. I know Americans cannot eat our native food. Also, I know you must have a clean, safe place to sleep and rest. I have prepared a bedroom for you in my home nearby. You are welcome to stay overnight. I want you to be comfortable." "Oh what a wonderful gesture and invitation. I shall never forget your concern and kindness. We have only thirty-five miles to go today. Hopefully the two tires will be finished in time for us to continue on to North Lankinpur." Thirty minutes later, my driver found me. He was elated. Two young men rolled the two repaired tires to the jeep. One tire was mounted on the jeep wheel and the other bolted on for a spare. We reached the missionary headquarters near North Lankinpur, our destination, shortly after dark. Our plan to open the wilderness clinic early the next morning were agreed upon, then we had a peaceful night of rest. With love, Dad _______________________________________________ Assam mailing list Assam@pikespeak.uccs.edu http://pikespeak.uccs.edu/mailman/listinfo/assam Mailing list FAQ: http://pikespeak.uccs.edu/assam/assam-faq.html To unsubscribe or change options: http://pikespeak.uccs.edu/mailman/options/assam
