Home on Complete Works of Aparesh Bhowmick

The Ambush

Fri, 27 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Gunshots shattered the silence of the mountains—a sound that had become all too familiar these days. The volunteers of the Mizo National Front, the armed wing of a nation fighting for its soul, had risen. They targeted the enemy with precision, their morale ironclad and unwavering.

“We will fight until the last drop of blood leaves our bodies,” was the unspoken vow on every pair of lips. “No matter the strength of the enemy, we will keep Mizoram free.”

The Return

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

It was eight o’clock on a foggy winter night. Outside, the silence was heavy, and visibility was near zero. Rema stepped out once, but a piercing gust of wind drove him straight back to the warmth of the fireplace. Rosangi was just finishing dinner when Jitinga pushed the door open. He was bundled so heavily against the bitter cold that only his face was visible; at a glance, even his closest relatives wouldn’t have recognized him. Rema and Rosangi peered closely at the newcomer

The Capture

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Rangchwanga and his men lay prone in the dense jungle near Thingdawl, eyes fixed on the road. The sight of the military van was too much to resist. Rangchwanga squeezed the trigger, his gun erupting with a loud boom-boom, sending bullets tearing into the vehicle. His comrades immediately joined in.

But the retaliation was swift.

From the other side, a relentless tak-tak-tak of automatic fire shredded the foliage around them.

The Secret Meeting

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

The sun was sinking rapidly toward the western horizon, casting long, fading rays across the mountain peaks. Yangaya, Jitinga, and a comrade navigated the serpentine path that cut through the impenetrable jungle. The light shifted and dulled by the minute; they had to reach the Sailo punjee before nightfall swallowed the mountains completely.

Jitinga had worried that Yangaya, having lived abroad for so long, would struggle on this rugged terrain. He was wrong. Yangaya kept pace effortlessly, his face showing no sign of fatigue. He walked with the steady rhythm of a man returning home.

The Trap

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Rosangi and Lalchungi walked side by side along the narrow, undulating path that led from the jhum fields to their punjee. Each carried a large, sturdy basket on her back—woven from cane and distinct from the flimsy baskets of the plains. Secured by a strap across the forehead, these baskets left their hands free to navigate the steep, rugged terrain.

The path eventually intersected with the main road, right below a high hillock where the military had set up camp. As they reached the junction, Rosangi stopped. The long trek had been exhausting.

The Prison

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Rangchwanga and his men were isolated in a guarded cell within the Aizawl military cantonment. Their arrest was different from the others; they had been taken directly from the field of operation, fresh from the fight. The security forces knew these men held the keys to the rebellion—locations, supply lines, leadership. They had to be cracked.

As they were dragged away, Rangchwanga knew the capture was only the beginning. The real test lay ahead. The enemy would try to extract information by any means necessary. They would break bodies and minds. But for men who had already made peace with death, who carried the mantra of “fear not” in their hearts, what was there left to fear?

The Political Game

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

General Thu-Aya and Yangaya sat in the secret hideout, the air heavy with smoke and anticipation. They were waiting for Jitinga, their eyes and ears across the Mizo hills.

Jitinga arrived late. He looked worn, carrying the weight of the news he had gathered from the various sectors.

“You’re late,” Thu-Aya noted, though his voice lacked sting.

“Yes. But not too late, I hope,” Jitinga replied, sinking onto a makeshift seat. “Let me catch my breath.”

A History of Rebellion

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

The name “Mizo” is a modern nomenclature. In our language, it simply means “highlander”—those who dwell in the high lands. Under this collective identity, we encompass various groups: the Lushei, Kuki, Hmar, Paito, Riang, Pawai, Chakma, and Lakher.

We possess no ancient texts to document our origins. However, oral traditions passed down through generations suggest that the oldest inhabitants of this region were the Lushei, Chin, and Kachin groups. They likely migrated from the distant Chinese border, pushing through the deep jungles of Burma to settle here. Over time, their descendants splintered into different clans, each led by an influential chief known as a Lal.

Winds of Change

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Time moved inexorably forward. Much water had flowed down the Kolodyne and Saireng rivers, unceasing and indifferent. The armed campaign of Thu-Aya, Jitinga, Yangaya, and Rema flowed with it—sometimes raging like a monsoon torrent, sometimes meandering like a gentle winter stream.

For four long years, Rema had remained in the hills. Now, for the first time since the uprising began, he descended to the plains with two companions, entering the city of Silchar.

Life Behind Bars

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Rangchwanga and his companions were removed from Silchar jail and loaded onto a train, their destination unknown. As the wheels clattered against the tracks, a heavy apprehension settled over them. They were being scattered—divided among different jails across Assam and beyond, isolated from one another to break their spirits.

For the rebels, life became a cycle of waiting in unknown four-walled enclosures. They had been arrested under Section 121 of the Indian Penal Code—waging war against the state—but the honorable courts seemed in no hurry to establish truth or justice. They remained undertrial prisoners, suspended in legal limbo.

The Release

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

After his morning meal, Rangchwanga lit a bidi and strolled from his ward. He stopped abruptly at the sight of a familiar face. Though the years had changed him, the man was unmistakable.

“Hey,” Rangchwanga called out. “Aren’t you Thanglura?”

The man turned. “Yes. I am Thanglura.”

“You have changed,” Rangchwanga said, smiling. “Gained a little weight. I almost walked past you.”

“Jail food sits heavy,” Thanglura joked, though his eyes were tired. “But tell me, I haven’t seen you around. Where were you hiding?”

The Final Resolve

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000

After Rangchwanga and the others were released from jail, the landscape of the Mizo hills began to shift rapidly. Armed clashes between security forces and rebels still erupted in the Jhumpai region near Aizawl, with casualties on both sides, but these skirmishes were pushed to the back pages of the newspapers. Instead, the spotlight turned to the city-based political parties.

Negotiations were underway in Delhi. Mizo leaders were meeting with the Prime Minister, demanding full statehood for the district. Headlines screamed that factions of the Mizo National Front (MNF) were coming to an “understanding” with the government.

A Trip to Chicago

Thu, 01 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Foreword

It has been three months since we became expatriates. We have come to the state of Michigan in America. My son is a software engineer at DaimlerChrysler. We are staying with him at his residence in Adams Creek, Auburn Hills, next to Detroit, once the world’s number one automobile city.

The winter in Detroit is very severe. After arriving here at the end of February, it has snowed most days until March, and the temperature has fluctuated between -7 and -3 degrees Celsius. We haven’t had the chance to see the sun for a long time. We only had to go out to buy food. We would put on special winter clothes, leave our air-conditioned house, get into an air-conditioned car, go to the shopping mall, do our shopping, and quickly return to our shelter. That was the extent of our outdoor activities. In fact, we were confined to our home during that time.

Fox TV Network and Thailu's Aunt

Thu, 01 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000

For a few days, we lived in a condominium in the Pinnacle Hills area of a small town called Rogers in the state of Arkansas, USA. Not far from our residence was a Walmart, which was said to be the first store of Walmart’s founder, Sam Walton. We had decided to visit that historic Walmart in Rogers on Sunday morning, a holiday. But it started snowing from Saturday midnight, and about three inches of snow had accumulated and frozen on the area’s roads. Consequently, on Sunday morning, instead of venturing out in the adverse weather, I sat in front of the computer and fiddled with the mouse. While looking for something about the moon on Google, ‘Fox TV and the Apollo Moon Hoax’ flashed on the computer screen. Focusing on it gave my mind a huge jolt. Oh my, if this is true, what a disaster! Had America fooled the people of the world by resorting to such a big lie?

McNamara, a Companion of Time

Thu, 01 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000

I don’t know in what deep recess of my mind the name McNamara was buried, perhaps it would have remained buried forever if I hadn’t come to the DTW International Airport in Michigan, USA.

I had been to this airport once before, a few days ago. But that was a domestic flight, from Detroit to New York. At that time, of course, I didn’t have to come to this McNamara terminal. I had to go to the Smith terminal. I had landed at LaGuardia Airport in New York from Detroit on a small jet called the American Eagle of American Airlines. I don’t know in whose memory the Smith terminal was named after a distinguished person from America. My mind didn’t push me to investigate it either. But upon hearing the name McNamara terminal, it occurred to me that it must be the same McNamara who was the chairman of the World Bank in the sixties of the twentieth century. Perhaps this terminal of the international airport has been named McNamara terminal in memory of McNamara, one of America’s distinguished men.

Correspondence between Naresh Bhowmick and Dr. Triguna Sen (March 1965)