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JAKHALABANDHA
Mad About MusicA medley of tunes goes full blast 24 hours a day at an
extraordinary bus stop.
By Avirook Sen
You can hear them a mile away. Daler
Mehndi's bhangra, Kenny G's saxophone, Asha Bhosle in her MTV avatar, traditional Assamese
Bihu songs, Manipuri folk and Michael Learns To Rock. You name it, you'll hear it. In a
blast that you could call the Jakhalabandha fusion.
Jakhalabandha? It's just a bus stop on National Highway 37 in
Nagaon district, 200 km from Guwahati. And though the buses do stop here, the music
doesn't. Twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year, the shops on the km-long stretch belt
out music. Such is the cacophony that often you can't hear your own voice. Each of the
200-odd shops owns a music system that vies with the rest in loudness. Forget the static
and the scratchy sounds, business sense dictates that the music be noisy enough to attract
a crush of customers. "I don't know what it is about this place but everyone here
seems to enjoy the clamour. Without it, there would be no Jakhalabandha," says Nirmal
Konwar, fruit vendor and proud owner of "No.1 Universal tape and speaker".
Despite being a local make, his contraption can outblast the rest.
There's certainly plenty to play in Jakhalabandha. About a
third of the makeshift shops stock cassettes. If the paanwala cannot give you the track
from Pyar Kiya To Darna Kya, the cold-drink vendor certainly will. "We are generally
ahead of anyone in these parts as far as getting the latest cassette is concerned,"
says Manoj Chauhan. He boasts of a stock of over 1,000 cassettes and says his shop's piece
de resistance is the collection of old Hindi film tracks. Procuring the latest music is
easy. A simple request to a trader in Siliguri, West Bengal, through a messenger does the
trick.
Buses plying to Upper Assam, Manipur and Nagaland invariably
stop at Jakhalabanda. As many as 800 buses halt at the bus stop and the passengers alight
for rest and refreshment. The choice of music is dictated by where exactly the buses halt.
Each shop's turf is well defined. For instance, buses that ply through Assam stop in front
of Chauhan's shop. An astute businessman, Chauhan stocks music which is bound to attract
the Assamese passengers. "They go mostly for new Hindi film music these days and some
Assamese music. That's what you'll mainly find here," he says.
A little way down the road there's western pop music playing.
Ask anyone, and they'll tell you that's where buses from the Nagaland town of Dimapur take
a break, and western pop is what the Nagas prefer. Even shops that don't sell cassettes
play music according to the perceived taste of the passengers who stop there. "It's
one way to make customers feel at home, so it's good for business," says a hotel
owner.
With so many shops selling cassettes, supply far outstrips
demand. That's the reason why Dilip Bora has stopped retailing cassettes and has switched
over to selling paan and cigarettes. Faded covers of Cliff Richard hits and some Hindi
film cassettes lie forgotten on his shop's dusty racks. "There is too much
competition nowadays. With the price of cassettes having gone up, one has to invest a lot
more money," he says. As the profit from a cassette is between Rs 2.50 and Rs 3, Bora
feels it's not worth it. Even those with money to invest say business is becoming
increasingly risky. If you flaunt a large stock, there is the danger of an extortion
notice from insurgent organisations or criminal gangs.
However, festivals mean a boom in business. During Bihu or
Diwali -- when the area sets a record for noise pollution -- sales are brisk. "We
sell as many as 100 cassettes a day during the season," says Aannta Bora,
"That's what keeps us going." That, and the sense of plain good fun. Something
that rubs off on anyone who stops here. "People get off here bleary-eyed and
tired," says a passenger, "but the clamour seems to wake everyone." After
stretching their limbs and eating at one of the many dhabas that line Jakhalabandha,
passengers return to their buses. And they resume their journey, feet tapping to a
confused but contagious beat. |