Boleshwar river is no more there…

Last week when we went to Silchar, we made it a point to go to Jellalpur at least for one day. After a long, tiring and enthusiastic ride, when we reached there, I couldn’t remember when was the last time I had visited that place. Jellalpur is still my dream destination. And literally saying, almost every day I dream about its winding and quaint roads. The village hasn’t changed much except for the new road bridge that’s constructed over the river at the bus stop, which is no more a bus stop now. The buses and innumerable Sumo and Ambassador shuttle cars now park themselves further beyond nutan bazzar, somewhere just below the hospital hill. No wonder that the old bus stand and the nutan bazzar have lost their days of glory. This new road bridge though has made communication to Jellapur much easier but it has stolen my childhood memory of river-crossing journey in a ferry, which used to be filled with excitement, fear, suspense and intense curiosity. The bridge was a welcoming change to the people of Jellapur and more to our family since after spending years for getting a grant for the bridge, my grandfather had received the confirmation letter from the government just one week before his death. Though my grandfather is not acknowledged for his tremendous effort, the letters that he had sent to the local MLAs and MPs arguing reasons for a need of bridge for the village are still there.

In spite of the missing river-crossing adventure, I could sense the arrival of Jellalpur just by its smell. It’s weird but the smell of Jellapur is unlike anything. It has the combination of earthen dust, the odour of rice plant hay, the odour of the smoke coming out from the earthen chulha of my grandfather’s house and my grandfather’s mouth odour, which always used to smell of tamak that he used to take from hukkah. The smell was there and also there was the sound. Jellapur has its unique sound too. This sound is the combination of the chirping of numerous unknown birds, the sound of people talking afar, the sound of hand pumps and some unknown sounds.

Since the crop time was just over, the fields were barren and grey. The people we knew also turned old and weak and looked withered. This time Jellapur was more grey than green. But the real shocking fact was the absence of Boleshwar river. Since this is winter time, we knew that there wouldn’t be much water in the river. During winters we used to cross the river and climb the hillocks and go to the tea gardens on the other side of the river. This was the most exciting action we used to do for which we used to die for going to Jellalpur. But this time there was no river at all. On the place where our favourite river used to flow before, there were some pits here and there filled with muddy water! Unlike previous visits, this time we were carrying mobile phones with 5 MP camera. We were very excited to catch images of our favorite spots so that we can see them later. But this time the spots were vanished! Disheartened and disappointed, me and my sister when talked about the matter to elders, then we came to know that the reason behind this destruction was the quarry or the stone pit that’s constructed on the upper side of the river. Though this quarry has brought employment for many local people especially at this time when the tea garden is at the verge of closing down, it has spoilt my childhood fascination – the Boleshwar river.