‘Sometimes, might is right,’ said Islam. Everyone claims to be the owner of the land and some establish possession by sowing dal or gram on it. ‘In some cases, the government settles matters, especially if it is patta land. In others, the Diwani does.’

In the old days, when erosion was not such a major problem and Assam was one large political unit, South Salmara was the constituency of one of the state’s most influential leaders, Sir Mohammed Saadulla of the Muslim League. Saadulla held office as Premier of Assam in British India. His political battles with Gopinath Bardoloi of the Congress party in the 1940s is the stuff of legend.

Today, it is a place that most people wish to leave. Its influence has vanished and its very survival is at stake with the rushing waters of the Brahmaputra gouging out great chunks of land every year. But if the locals do leave, then who takes their place? Would it be far-fetched to assume that there is an inflow from Bangladesh, barely twenty kilometres from South Salmara’s southernmost tip? I don’t think so, even though Chowdhury disagrees vehemently.

To the Chars—from Bangladesh?

Those who live on the chars do so under extremely trying physical and psychological conditions. Why would people migrate to such places? Only because they have no choice in the matter. To those leaving Bangladesh, it is a habitat with which they are familiar, even the struggle accompanying it is not alien: an unending jousting with the forces of the rivers. But here, at least there is land to settle upon and build a future. Without land, no community, village or nation can endure, or sustain their histories.

In Bangladesh, the man:land ratio is officially over 750 per square kilometre. In Assam it is 265. The latter figure is somewhat misleading for it does not indicate that the Assam valley is bisected by the Brahmaputra river which takes up not less than 15-20 kilometres of the valley at any given point; cultivation on its sandbanks is difficult and there are the hills not far from the river where high yields are not possible. The cultivable area is shrinking in a region where the maximum width of the valley is rarely much beyond 80-100 kilometres.

But what motivates the seekers of passage and settlement to uproot themselves and their kin from a known identity to an unknown one, where they would be at the mercy of their hosts and neighbours? This is still a question in the minds of many. Why would people come and settle in such difficult conditions on the chars even if they eventually were to move inland?