[ TEROGHORIA (INDO-BANGLA BORDER): The blazing mid-day sun notwithstanding, we set out on two canoes to reach India through Bangladesh. For all our apprehensions, the canoes seemed surprisingly sturdy to accommodate not just us but also our BSF escorts. And then we understood why. It is these canoes on which Teroghoria depends for life.
A small riverine village hamlet, initially comprising just 13 homes after which it is named (now only nine), Teroghoria is a paradox. A 10-bigha of square land in Indian territory flanked by mainland Bangladesh on three sides, its only gateway to India is through water.
And while BSF platoon Commander Amarjit Singh tried to explain the non-existent border demarcation only distinguished by concrete pillars, we really gave up. We could make out a few things though. To reach Teroghoria one needs to chart through territorial water of the neighbouring country in patches. And in doing that, we could spot life, even the hand-waving friendly BDR guards. The later, however, we realized was more due to our uniformed companions.
Paritosh Halder, clad only in his lungi, rushed to greet us. An elderly Teroghoria resident, he knew each one of the five armed jawans with us. Perhaps noticing my surprise, he quickly remarked, “These are the only people who come to us daily.” And then he asks us, “Media, Oh! Then you’ll have questions to ask, first let me arrange some chairs for you all,” he hurried away. Ten minutes later, he could manage four plastic chairs, “We don’t have more,” he said, visibly embarrassed. We got our first taste of life in Teroghoria.
As Paritosh parried away to arrange drinking water for all, septuagenarian Gour Halder ambled along to accompany us. Gour — Teroghoria’s oldest resident at 74 — has spent half-a-century in Teroghoria. “Born in Bangladesh, where I lost both my parents, I settled here with my wife’s family in 1960,” he said, almost brooding. “But it really doesn’t matter. Life here is still the same,” he said. “Look at that tube-well — the only one the village has — it has been there as long as I’d been here. The only difference is that it had 11 pipes then and now due to silt it only has three pipes,” he says, wryly. The tube-well incidentally is the only thing the government has done in these parts.
Does he vote? The answer, curiously, is a resolute yes. “I have voted in each and every election. And I will vote this time too,” Gour says, his voice rising. Kanai Haldar who impassively was hearing the conversation, joined, “We all vote here. We take out the canoes in the morning and go to Ferozpur to cast our votes. We have our Indian voter card,” he says. Perhaps, the only way to prove their nationality. “Parties (read CPM) come here before every election. So we know the data and place (where to cast votes). Long ago, a Trinamool Congress MLA had visited us and distributed clothes. A lot many people like you (read Media) were with him. The clothes are still with us. We didn’t find an occasion to wear them yet,” Kanai said.
Paritosh gauging my next question, answers, “The village lacks electricity supply and toilets. Even when someone falls sick, we have to take them in a canoe. And instead of rushing to the hospital in Bongaon, we have to inform the BDR and BSF patrols first. Yes, when they come to seek our votes, we do tell them our woes — like during earlier polls — and hope at least someone will pay heed.” Teroghoria has only 25 voters. Its neighbouring village Dughoria has 20 more. Forty-five votes perhaps never make much of a difference to anyone.
To break the flow of discussion, I casually ask Paritosh whether he’d found a suitable girl for his boy. He breaks into a smile, “Yes, I am scouting for one. I had been to Bongaon the other day. Girls these days are educated, why would they come and live with us cut-off from the mainland,” he says. “The children here do not study much beyond primary level. I have made it a point to educate my daughter; she is the only college-goer in this entire village. She doesn’t stay here though, but with my relatives in Bongaon.” he adds.
The villagers only bank on fishing (a kilo of fish can fetch up to Rs 150 in the local Ferozpur market) and agriculture (even one crop can suffice for the entire village) for making a living. But for all their hardships haven’t they considered settling in the mainland, Gour immediately shoots back, “Why should we? This is our land. If we say these and leave here, the land of our ancestors will go to the ghosts.”
Life will go on in Teroghoria as it has been for the last 50 years, unchanged.
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