DESTINATION DARJEELING

Satis Shroff

“That’s a terrible injustice,” said Raj Rana aloud at the Paddington Station. Mr. Rana was at the station, on his way to Gatwick Airport. From there he had a flight ticket from Her Majesty’s Government to Nepal after long years of service in the British Gurkhas.

“What do you mean, Raj-ji?” said the turbaned Punjabi bus-driver from London, whom he’d known for a decade.

“The Brits are not nice to the Gurkhas. Look at me. I slaved for the Union Jack during the Falkland War. My father fought for the Brits in the World War II and was wounded by the Germans.”

“Why join the British or Indian Army? Just apply for political asylum like me. I came over when the Indian Army stormed our Golden Temple in Amritsar.”

“It’s not easy for Nepalese to apply for asylum.”

“Why? Everybody gets an asylum in Britain. Look at the streets in the East End, Southhall. Indians, Bangladeshis, Pakistanis, Nigerians, Jamaicans everywhere.”

“The British and German authorities always say: “Nepal is a peaceful country. There’s no war out there. The tourists go there all the time. How can we Gurkhas convince the British government that we want to stay on in England after we’ve done our service? They always send us home,” said Mr. Rana.

“Home is where your heart is,” said the Sikh, thoughtfully smoothening his moustache.

“Exactly. My heart is in England. My wife also wants to stay here and so do our two children.”

“When I was in India I used to say, “Indian government, no good government. Apply, apply, no reply,” said the Punjabi whose name was Avtar Singh. He’d found it difficult to get jobs in India. He’d sent out a lot of applications without any success.

The Gurkha Raj Rana replied, “Now I’m in Britain and I’m saying British government, no good government. The British we meet in everyday life are splendid people, straightforward and helpful, and hold us in high regard. We, Gurkhas, have fought for England since 1816.

“You Nepalese have no lobby in Britain. That’s the reason why the Brits treat you like that,” said Mr.Singh, scratching under his turban for the sun was shining that day in London. He’d brought along his telescope umbrella along. You never knew with English weather.

“No lobby? How can we have a lobby when we live in barracks with our families. No contact with the British people. Our children have to do SLC, and not GCSE certificates when they finish schooling.”

“SLC?”

Mr. Rana explained, “School Leaving Certificate, a paper from Nepal.”

Mr. Singh suddenly came up with: “You know what, Rana-ji? I think it’s because Nepal was never in the Commonwealth.”

“Do we have to apologise that we’ve remained an independent and sovereign state?” said Mr. Rana.

“During the Falkland War the British government said, ‘The Gurkhas are an integral part of the British Army,’” said the Gurkha.

“Yes, I remember reading about it. It was because the Argentinians protested in the UNO that the British were deploying mercenary soldiers,” said Mr. Singh.

“Some mercinary soldiers, “ remarked Mr. Rana. “For our bravery and loyalty, the Queen of England awarded us  6,500 decorations, including 13 Victoria Crosses and two George Cross medals. But you can’t live on medals alone, you know, Mr. Singh.”

“If we are equal to the British soldiers and an integral part of the Army, then why do we have lesser pay than the British soldiers?” said Mr. Rana.

“You are right. Why? I get the same pay as a white Cockney bus-driver.”

“I think you people have no lawyers and politicians behind you.”

“Mrs. Blair fought for our rights once. But her husband is no longer in politics.”

Expressing solidarity with the Gurkha movement, Liberal Democratic MP of the British parliament, Peter Carroll, had once said that the 1997 cut off date was unjustified, and that it was wrong for UK to continue to discriminate against people who had defended the UK and even sacrificed their lives, while protecting Britain and the crown. A delegation of former Gurkhas had later handed over a petition at the 10 Downing Street, the office of Prime Minister Tony Blair, and held a meeting with Veterans Minister of the British government, Derek Twiggs. In a letter faxed to GAESO and the United British Gurkha Ex-Servicemen’s Association in Nepal, Col. R.J.J. Ellis defended the cut-off date as being the day “when the (Gurkha) Brigade became a UK-based force.” On July 1, 1997, the brigade was moved to Britain from Hong Kong because the British were obliged to hand over the former Crown Colony to China.

Mahendra Lal Rai, Secretary of GAESO went on record as saying: “We will continue our fight for equal rights on the streets, as well as in court rooms against the discriminatory policies of the British government.”

Very little had happened since then..

The British authorities had refuted allegations that there has been discrimination against the 3,500 British Gurkha soldiers serving in the British army.

“Besharam! Such an impertinence,” said Mr. Singh, with a big sigh.

The train came and Mr. Singh hugged Mr. Rana, who entered the compartment, waved at a smiling Mr. Singh with his family, and in their thoughts they were already in Katmandu, where things were uncertain and a Maoist republic awaited them, with hikes in prices of basic commodities, political instability. Nepal seemed to be disintegrating because there was no unifying figure. The people in Nepal’s southern Terai were demanding a separate state and recognition of Hindi as the language of the Madhisays, and some had even suggested that the Terai, Nepal’s Corn Chamber, should become a state of the Indian Union. Perhaps that’s how a democratic republic functioned in the early stages.

Mr. Rana felt a terrible feeling of nausea sweeping over him when he thought about the forthcoming trip to his second homeland Darjeeling. Those grabbing Bengali customs officers who were out to rob the Gurkhas by pretending to demand taxes for foreign luxury items. Even gadgets that one used daily like hair-dryers, electric shavers, kitchen appliances were ‘taxed’ without receipts, which meant the money wandered into the pockets of the Bengali customs officers, and the Indian, or for that matter the Bengal government received nothing from this border-income. That was how it functioned.

As in the late eighties, there was the danger of a Gorkhaland civil war because a lot of problems were still unsolved. The Gorkhalis were divided now, and Subhas Ghising’s work with his Hill Council was out. Bimal Gurung was gaining in profile. Formerly, Jyoti Basu’s communist government used to deliberately use political and economic delay tactics when it came to Gorkhaland issues. And now the bespectacled Bengali Chief Minister Namata Mukerjee was warning the  Gorkhalis with a raised index-finger and calling them ‘hooligans.’ She even gone further to demand more troops from Delhi, instead of solving Gorkhaland’s people’s demands. India has gained independence from the British Raj in 1947 but the Gorkhalis of Darjeeling were still struggling for their identity. The Bengalis behaved like the British towards the Gorkhalis. They neither spoke the Gorkhali tongue nor did they read Nepali literature. They read their own books and watched their own Bengali films. The Gorkhalis  read Bhanubhakta, Lainsingh Bangdel and Devkota.

The Bengalis had usurped their land and become prosperous and arrogant like the British. The monoculture Thea sinensis was planted by the Nepalese migrants under the British Raj. The British had left in a hurry and the plantations are owned not by Gorkhalis but Bengalis living in Kolkotta. The migrants from Bengal have done in Darjeeling, what the Han Chinese have done in Lhasa. They took away the jobs of the Gorkhalis: the teaching profession,administrative jobs all run by brown Bengali babus.

‘We are better qualified, perhaps,’ say the Bengalis.

Qualification takes time and money.

Mr. Rana thinks out loudly. The only legacy and pride left to us is our brawn, as soldiers under foreign flags and India’s Gorkha regiments. Where is the liberty, equality and fraternity guaranteed by the biggest democracy in the world?

Had Darjeeling been reverted to Sikkim we’d be well off, as the Sikkimese are today under Central rule.

Where was it better? To live in strife-torn Gorkhaland or in Nepal, a republic run by Maoists? Would it be easier living with Maoists and the different shades of socialists in Nepal?

Satis Shroff is a prolific writer and teaches Creative Writing in Freiburg. He is a lecturer, poet and writer and the published author of five books: Im Schatten des Himalaya (book of poems in German), Through Nepalese Eyes (travelogue), Katmandu, Katmandu (poetry and prose anthology by Nepalese authors, edited by Satis Shroff), and two language books on the Nepalese language for DSE (Deutsche Stiftung für Entwicklungsdienst) & Horlemannverlag. He lectures in Basle (Switzerland) and in Germany at the Academy for Medical Professions (University Klinikum Freiburg), VHS-Freiburg, VHS-Dreisamtal. He has also worked at the Center for Key Qualifications University of Freiburg, as a Lehrbeauftragter for Creative Writing and Scientific English. Satis Shroff was awarded the German Academic Exchange Prize, the Neruda Prize 2017 (Italy) and the Heimatmedaille 2018 Baden-Württemberg. He was also awarded the Social Engagement Prize by Green City Freiburg and was nominated by Stadt Freiburg for the German Social Engagement Prize in Berlin.