Witch Hunts in Kokrajhar in 2024???
We are in the 21st Centaury? Are you sure? As witch hunts continues in Kokrajhar, Assam, where superstition, violence, and deeply rooted beliefs lead to brutal murder of Bagare Hembrom. A satirical take on India’s struggle with superstition in the 21st century.
Ah, the modern-day witch hunts, straight out of a medieval playbook, only this time set against the scenic backdrop of Kokrajhar, Assam. If ever there was a tale to demonstrate that, in certain pockets of Indian society, common sense has packed its bags and gone on an indefinite holiday, this would be it.
Take dear old Bagare Hembrom, a woman of 53, minding her own business until the village decided she was the root of all evil. Was it the sinister sound of her humming while making tea? Or perhaps the way she tended to her garden with a suspiciously green thumb? No, no—it must have been the tragic misfortune of her nephew Ganesh losing two relatives in one day. Naturally, the only reasonable conclusion was that she was dabbling in the dark arts.
Ganesh, of course, didn’t think to look for an explanation in, say, common illnesses, or perhaps, bad luck—no, that would be far too sensible. Instead, he grabbed the nearest machete, because why not, and took it upon himself to “resolve” the issue. A machete, in this part of the world, is apparently the Swiss Army knife of solutions: handy for a bit of farming, and equally useful for a spot of impromptu justice.
And what does the rest of the village do? Naturally, they form a lynch mob, because nothing says “we are a progressive society” quite like publicly endorsing violence against an innocent woman. I mean, it’s not as if the 21st century has brought with it any newfangled concepts like medicine, science, or—dare I say—reason. No, best stick to the tried-and-tested superstition route, where logic is as scarce as honesty in Indian politicians.
Of course, there’s legislation in place—the Assam Witch Hunts (Prohibition, Prevention and Protection) Act, 2015. A law that’s as useful as an inflatable dartboard when no one actually bothers to enforce it. Sure, the authorities will huff and puff about launching an investigation, but by the time they’ve put down their cups of tea and donned their shoes, the village has already moved on, probably to point fingers at the next elderly woman with an overly effective herbal remedy for arthritis.
And isn’t it simply charming how these incidents keep cropping up, year after year? It’s almost as if there’s a deep-rooted problem here—some pesky little thing called superstition that refuses to go away, no matter how many laws are passed. It’s as if education has been treated with the same level of enthusiasm as Veg Biryani to a Bong.
So, what’s the solution? More awareness campaigns? Sure, let’s put up a few posters in the village square. They can sit next to the adverts for snake oil and miracle cures. Or better yet, why not launch a national “Say No to Witch Hunts” day? Perhaps with balloons and cake, because nothing says “let’s end a horrifying practice” like a good party.
In the end, this charming little incident serves as a stark reminder: while the world around us rushes forward with technology and enlightenment, there are still places where the past hangs on tighter than a limpet to a rock. But who needs progress when you’ve got a machete, a dash of superstition, and a village full of folks ready to believe that their problems are caused by the local herbalist?
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