Banning bulbuli fights in Assam doesn't address animal cruelty
It is very difficult to arrive at the "right" way of celebrating a folk festival. When we say "folk", we already imply at a community formation with its own static and dynamic rituals. Bhogali Bihu or Magh Bihu in Assam is the time of celebrating abundance in the plant and the animal kingdom.
"Bhog" from the community kitchen (the term may seem very alien to many), is an attempt to partake of the bonds the folks share, resist or accommodate. Though I am hopeful of the healing aspect of any folk festival, I can't say whether this community abundance has remained the same or if it has become just another myth of the privileged in Assam.
Only a few days back, I had visited a village in Udalguri and I was surprised at the decreasing number of Mejis, a structure made of hay, banana leaves, wood etc.
"We barely have enough to feed the cattle, you can forget about the Meji, the pigeons and the goats", one of the villagers said. So, while we feast on and on every Bhogali, it is the time for introspecting on food security, animal cruelty, and land rights.
Across India, harvests are a significant part of the farmer's destiny. To mark this output, there are a host of festivities; some of them involve animals and birds as they are regarded as an "auspicious" part of agriculture. Creatures like the bull are considered "tough players", very "thrilling" to watch.
With time, many of these animal-bird games have been abolished with new amendments in the Animal Cruelty Act. Yet, as the lines between culinary pleasures and visual pleasures keep getting blurred, we must ask ourselves if it is animal "pain" that we are trying to address.
New scientific studies claim that all creatures - plants, animals, birds and even micro-organisms can conceive of pain. If that be indeed true, how do we think of surviving without the intake of food, be it any kind of food?
A few days back, the government of Assam had issued an order banning bulbuli (a type of songbird) fights, which form a major part of Bhogali Bihu. Pongal celebrations too have been assigned a similar responsibility - Jallikattu or bull-taming have seen a mixed response this time.
The Guwahati High Court's decision was met with fury by priests in Hajo's Hayagriva Madhav Temple Committee. Like most "traditional" priests, they are anxious today at the thought of organising a festival without the bird fights. They also claimed that no act of cruelty is committed on the songbirds (bulbulis), and this law has put their tradition at stake.
This reminds me of news reports in the last few years about the hornbill festival, where the major argument was that the natives are destroying the ecosystem. This was countered by the fact that the hornbills are reared by the natives themselves and they are the sole protectors of the birds.
The war between visual appetite versus culinary appetite tells us that animal cruelty is a topic that cannot be simply understood from a man versus wild perspective. Today, there is a debate between those favouring bulbuli fights, and animal lovers, yet how many "animal-loving" reports can you cite which discuss the secret rhino/elephant killings for aesthetic pleasure?
It goes without saying that there is much more hypocrisy at hand. While the cruelty meted out to corporation-controlled animals go unpunished, every year more and more rituals from the traditional/rustic (hence, folk) domain involving animals are being banned. If we are to address animal cruelty as a whole, we will have to comprehend the bigger picture; both the traditionalists and the modernists will have to listen to each other.
The next intriguing factor is the cultural consent generated for witnessing events where creatures can be "tamed". The game involving bulbuli birds provides some interesting details about how a society is structured. I recall how one bird is fed with the athiya-kol seeds, and the other is deprived, so it makes it angry. This anger is then channelised towards defeating the opponent, thereby inflicting each other with injuries.
Bulbuli fights defeat the purpose of community abundance, which is anyway disappearing fast; consider the growth of agrarian thefts and poverty in Assam. The older generation, upon hearing the law, is of the view that blaming them for a century-old practice will be futile, because "young", "macho" men participate very enthusiastically in these sports.
Are these events only social and will only legal actions help? To ban bulbuli fights is to deprive a lot of participants of their overwhelming sense of power. Not to forget, the legal choice of banning only certain animal related practices is also exercising power, albeit a different one.
How many of us will be ready to give away power? Can we celebrate Bhogali by letting go of this "taming the wild" cultural syndrome? Will it be "right"? That is the most important question.