The Crisis of Assamese Nationalism: From Language to Religion
The origin of Assamese nationalism was rooted in language. During the British Raj in the 19th century, the decline of the Assamese language sparked a movement to protect it from language-based colonialism. This public awakening was exploited by opportunists to fulfill their own political ambitions.
However, the 1979–1985 Assam Agitation, centered on self-identity, eventually turned into a Bengali-Assamese conflict. Recognizing the language-centric tensions of the 1960s, Bhupen Hazarika and Hemanga Biswas sang songs like those of Haradhan-Rongmon to establish humanistic values as the sole identity of this land. During the language movement of the ’60s, in the midst of Assamese-Bengali clashes, the voices of Hemanga Biswas and Bhupen Hazarika resonated with unity, harmony, and the symphony of humanity.
In 2025, when Zohran Mamdani—a Democratic Socialist and a Muslim migrant from Gujarat—won the New York mayoral election, fighting against America’s emerging fascism, his singular political presence perhaps became a new ray of hope for a small number of American socialists. I mention Mamdani in this Assam-centric piece because the day I saw Bengali language in his election campaign posters, a question arose within me. A larger question of my existence in the age of crony capitalism and fascist dillema.
In the global pit of neo-fascism, how will the Assamese language survive? But the truth is that Bengalis or the Bengali language always stay one step ahead of us Assamese. This stems from our crab-like nature—clinging to language-based aspirations and desires. In the Bengali-Assamese conflict, in Assam proper, Muslim migrants from Bangladesh have been labeled “foreigners,” strengthening religious divisions. Today, this shift has donned the cap of neo-fascism, confining the definition of “indigenous” (khilonjia) to Assamese Hindus. The historic Assam Accord has become mere paper. Only discussions, endless discussions. This community has been isolated. Amid this isolation, another question arises: Will this dilemma turn Assam’s local and indigenous tribes, communities, and linguistic groups into another Manipur—due to misgovernance, for the sake of Adani-Ambani?
Who is Indigenous: The Rise of Fascist Nationalism in Assam
The alliance between Assamese Brahmanical forces and Delhi’s Hindutva proponents has given birth to a new fascist form of Assamese nationalism. In this, homes, hills, land, and rivers are torn apart by bulldozers. The bulldozer has become their sole tool—for governance and exploitation.
Migration is a natural process in human history. Especially due to capitalist wars and confusion, mass migration has led to various “populist population politics” worldwide. In this context, Assam’s political and social sphere since the 1990s has not lagged behind. Some older writings have called it the political fruit of globalization. I completely disagree. The language-centric stream of Assamese nationalism has today transformed into communal right-wing ideology. It is the result of a long-term, secretive (and sometimes overt) takeover project by India’s new fascist Hindutva winds—where we no longer recognize ourselves. We are silently, yet rapidly, dying in our own land. In the current overall political-economic context, Adani’s eyes and Ambani’s hands are a nuclear bomb for the nation, far more dangerous than thousands of migrant infiltrators.
The national consciousness that was once a long-term plan for Assam has now become destitute in the pit of politics. Politics of national interest has turned into populist fascism, mainly due to the meek yet opportunistic middle-class indulgence, coupled with Brahmanical new agents who have burned the humanistic history of Sankardev-Azan. But the consciousness of the majority non-Aryan Assamese is being killed every time like spilled water from a broken pot. The concern here is that opportunistic Assamese in the exploitative camp have introduced a new Assamese identity in contemporary politics—”Hindu Assamese.”
The establishment of Assamese as “Hindu” feels like a secret conspiracy—an aggression on the consciousness of the exploited class, transforming it into a luxury commodity while some Assamese adopt a neutral stance. This section of Assamese is drowning in middle-class luxury, turning the struggle to protect national identity into a fascist organizational parade: Where “indigenous” means Hindu Assamese.
An Assam Without Zubeen! The Assamese Identity:
September 19—a monumental crisis for the nation. His unnatural death has pushed us ten steps backward as a people. What have we gained? A new dawn for Assamese? In our journey of study, those who never touched Assamese nationalist ideology politically have created an apolitical scene, responsible for the fascist Hindutva agenda. The murders of Parag Kumar Das and Zubeen—these have sidelined large economic and self-identity movements, paving the way for self-centered opportunism and capitalism. In contrast, attacking the migrant people of the char areas has forced us to fight among ourselves.
Art and language were the main pillars of national consciousness. But in a system that has numbed that emotion, with what logic do we find the courage to live as new Assamese? Hearing the intense westernized Assamese spoken in Guwahati and Dispur feels like a slap to the ear.
In conclusion, modern Assamese nationalism is no longer merely the self-defense of language and culture; rather, in the hands of right-wing forces, it has transformed into a neo-fascist, religious, and exclusionary political project. As the definition of Assamese shrinks, a project has begun to finish our land, agriculture, and rivers—by Adani or Ambani. This project sanctifies the “tholuwa” (native) identity one day and views minorities with suspicion the next, subjecting them to human rights violations—just like Hitler’s playbook, just like the new fascist forces awakened by Israel’s sting, who seek to devour our land piece by piece. Yet the truth is that there is no future for Assamese society without minorities; they are part of this land’s labor, rivers, pain, and history. Protecting native identity does not mean excluding anyone; rather, it means uniting all oppressed voices.
In this context, Clause 6 of the Assam Accord is not just a legal demand—it is a moral question: Whose culture, whose politics, and whose life matters in Assam? For whose freedom do we burn?
If Clause 6 is used as a communal weapon, it will make Assamese nationalism even narrower and more violent. But if understood in a democratic, multi-ethnic, and justice-based form, it can pave the way for building a new Assam. Two hundred years before the Treaty of Yandabo, did the subjugated Assamese understand that we have lost ourselves in the habit of making others our own, swallowed by global capitalism? That is why perhaps today’s Assamese, even if the river floods four times a year, curse the river and sleep day and night.
Today, a deep emptiness is felt in Assam and North East , Zubeen Garg’s physical death and the murder ? the silence of his artistic soul, protesting spirit, and symbol of ethnic self-confidence signals the closing of a chapter in the Assamese era. When music, poetry, and humanity surrender to political hatred, society begins to lose its soul.
Thus, the final call of this essay is: If Assamese nationalism wishes to survive, it must be freed from fascism, religious narrowness, and the politics of hate. Breaking the chains of subjugation and uniting everyone—this is the strongest demand of the time: Imagining a new greater Assam on the foundation of justice, dignity, and equality for all is today’s most urgent political duty. Otherwise, this civilization of the Bor Luit will remain merely a past.
Published in Assamese on Bikhyon(37th edition ) a progressive magazine published by Notun Sahitya Parishad
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