The 26th Column — Age No Bar

It struck my mind on a late January evening while lazily sipping a cup of tejpata flavoured chaangang at the balcony of my sojourn here in the capital city of India. As usual, I was pretty confused about a decent topic to write on for next week. I gave a second thought about the first thought and decided it should be something I must write on no matter what, why or how. So, here I am with the 26th Column.

This time I have nothing to talk about our Cheap Minister. I do not have any grudge against the Maiba who sold away Manipur to Hawaimaan. I would not bother to talk anymore on any social networking site and its popularity. I don’t even have to talk much on elections or on any other social or political fundas. Let all these topics be cast aside. I have something else to share this time. Something not surreal or fictional but what we often call the reality bytes, especially from the perspective of a girl/lady.

On a self-introductory note, let me simply introduce myself as a regular girl (read lady) with not so expensive dreams. My dreams are pretty affordable and anyone would find them very mundane. When it comes to the real me I must be honest enough to say that (sans the age factor) I love to flaunt as a kid in the heart.

Like my friends, I still hate to admit my real age. The very thought of turning thirty scares me to hell. I am still on the safer side of thirty but it doesn’t mean I am never going to turn thirty. No matter how much I hide my age, no matter how much carefree or damn care I get along with my friends, the reality byte is that I am old enough to be childish and mature enough to be dyed-in-the-wool to my obligations and of course consider of marriage as one of the social norms to be followed (did I really type all these?)

Though I haven’t yet tried Olay cream or thought about a facial beautification therapy either, I know it would not be far when I really have to start worrying about aging and its various syndromes. Most of us are used to consoling one another with encouraging filmy quotes or remarks such as ‘Sweet sixteen forever’, ‘Young at heart’ ‘We live in deeds not in ages’ etc. At the end of the day, however, the mirror never lies. Should I call it the first reality byte?

For the second realty byte, there is no surprise factor. It is about the wedding phobia that most of us have. Many jokes have been cracked on it, many hilarious opinions have been shared, many remarks have also been heard but the phobia is pretty infectious among those who are not yet ready to tie the knot.

Fairy tales have always encouraged us to believe in those whims and fancies. We (girls) have always loved dreaming about our own ‘Knight (s) in shining armour’ who would one day come to rescue us from the dungeon of solitude and all those stupid exaggerated anticipations. Well, it’s sheer stupidity to really expect a filmy or fairy tale like sequence in our lives. Films are to entertain us and fairy tales are sweet when they are told to kids (I wish I could attach a smiley here).

The reality has always a different facet and we get hooked to it knowingly or unknowingly.

It is pretty obvious that many of us have an emotional hangover of the past, many of us get stuck at a snail snarling traffic jam of life clueless of which way to head and many of us are busy working on tight professional schedules. The only seasoned habit which is common among each one of us is whining on petty issues. But in the middle of all this brouhaha, we are gradually aging, our youthfulness is slowly dwindling away and the gusto is also becoming feeble. Perhaps this is the norm of life, perhaps this is how things go on.

Well, we cannot deny the truth any more than we have been denying it already. In some good years, everyone’s life would be changed. Many of us would willingly or unwillingly tie the knots. Many of us would finally consider of making the next move. Many of us would win a lot of laurels in our careers. Change will be one common thread that will tie us all in the next few years.

I am not going to tell anything new when I would talk about how it is significant to value time, value relations, value the moments from all the three tenses. But even if it sounds stale, let me conclude my 26th column assuring you all that the past was as beautiful as the present and the future is going to be more beautiful. Let us shoo the ghosts away and be more real and enjoy life to the fullest living it queen size. After all tomorrow is not just another day.

This article was published on 29 Jan 2011

Election Fever 2012

‘You know what, today is the flag hoisting ceremony of our kendra’s candidate who is also a family relative.’—this is what I got to hear when I mundanely called up my married sister on her Nupamayumgi phone number to inform her that I have booked my ticket for Yaoshang and that I will be home. I was remotely amused by the excitement in her voice. I heard the sound of speakers loudly playing ‘Maikei asomda leibiriba ekai khumnabada matik charaba ahal laman lai guru...’ and all those nonsense stuffs. I made an excuse to call her up later as the noise was disturbing too much. The next moment I found myself satirically smirking and an interior monologue started playing on my mind, ‘Is this one of the syndromes of Election Fever 2012’?

I called up another childhood friend, and no need to guess anything, but there she was also busy attending a feast with some of her Leikai friends. (Of course! The kind of feasts sponsored by the election through the agents!) I could not endure the same pestering noise so I had a brief talk with her and hung up. The next step was pretty obvious. I switched off my mobile phone, fetched myself a coffee cup and parked myself in my work station (in a delusive state of mind). ‘Oh this is really what they often call the election fever’— I consoled myself later, gulping the last sip of coffee. Phew!!!

With just a few days away, the election fever is perhaps spreading fast at each and every corner and kendra. Forget the monthly salaries, the pending exam schedules, the thika-bills. Forget the electricity, forget the roads in rubbles, forget the highway 53, forget everything. Even the half-baked breads are waiting to be baked for the D-day on January 28. ‘Vote loiraga taarey’— I have often heard people telling one another in the past (and I am sure this is the most common assurance given among people at present too). Only the wisest fools would believe in such a stupid assurance. Has anyone ever introspected why everything is election-centric in Manipur since the last few weeks? What’s the big deal about this election? Why are our people easily lured by the seasoned tricks and tactics of those self-styled political parties and candidates? Why is the election fever given much hype in the state? Let the wrong or the right ones come to power. They are not the ideal demagogues in the state who can promise us a new Manipur. Their manifestos are all sheets of wasted paper with never meant to be implemented bullshits as the contents. We suffered, we lamented and yet we are electing them again. Oh, the dearest morons! Just shoot yourselves with a cheap gun instead of fooling yourselves over and over again.

If personally questioned, I am so freaking happy to admit that I have never cast a single vote during any of the elections held in Manipur. I self-boycotted them, I boycott it now and I will always boycott it in the future until and unless the deserving candidate is contesting for the election in my kendra. But as far as the scenarios in Manipur are concerned, the existence of the deserving candidate is just a myth. Everyone becomes corrupted. Everyone plays politics and everyone is so well-versed in giving excuses or explanations. One of the stupid excuses ever heard from the intellectual class in our society on politics is ‘You either become a part of it or become a prey of it’. Is there no third option?

It’s better to waste the vote than to cast it for the wrong candidate. In this regard, I have no regrets of wasting my vote in the past. I will keep wasting it every election. This is perhaps a pie of freedom and liberty I have enjoyed as an individual and this liberty is pretty precious to me. No one can ever bribe me on this. I bet that.

Nonetheless, I have some special messages for everyone out there. My first message goes out to that voter who cast the vote in the past or is going to cast the vote as my proxy, ‘Hey there, may your soul be dysentric and may you never find a single packet of ORS’. My second message goes out to all the election fans (especially to the so called khongbaan chenba parties) out there, let the fever continue. You guys do not need paracetamol tablets for this fever. Enjoy the chaaklems, yoorems and remain meerems forever. Your votes are cheap, your votes are misused, and your votes are never meant to bring a change in the society. Stop lamenting on further bomb blasts, stop forming JACs and no more rallies or protests in the future.

To the rest of the masses, let us heartily thank Sidhaba Mapu or Ema Laimaren Sidhabi that Child births, Nature calls, Dev-Karmas etc. are luckily not succumbed to the election fever. The get well soon cards will anyway be parceled for every patient but without any bomb attached with it. Take Care.

This article was published on 22 Jan 2011

The Numbing Waakching Episode

‘Waakching’ is considered one of the most romantic months in the entire year and a rejuvenating season for many literary aficionados too. I have read in poems and in prose books about ‘Waakchingi Ulen’ or ‘Waakchingi Nong’ and its literary reflections. Even during my confinement out of Manipur for all these years, I have ardently enjoyed a dream-trip of my mind somewhere near the Ningthi river listening to the sounds of silence and serenity after the Waakching drizzles. I have romanced with the raindrops, danced to the glory of a beautiful Waakchingi Purnima night albeit the sweet disturbance of the cuckoo birds. It has been a flabbergasting experience for me until the sounds of bombs intruded…

Just imagine, how would one feel if one’s dreams are interrupted or predictions are proved otherwise during the most romantic month of the year? Depressed, right? Exactly! I have never been this much depressed in my life. This is not done at all. 2012 is supposed to be a romantic year for everyone but the bloody bomb merchants and hooligans loitering everywhere in the State, wreaking havoc all around and terrorizing people, are a few pathetic reasons of my depression in such a lovely season.

I know now why ‘Ebenpok Emoinu’ is so unwilling to stay in the State. Perhaps, she has done the right thing by taking a long unplanned sabbatical. Who would anyway love to reside in one such place where you have to worry about an unclaimed bomb hanging at your gate or being thrown in your office? It’s such a gloomy situation there. It’s a nonsense versus null-sense battle between morons for some petty power to rule (not govern) the people.

The numb/dumb struck ‘micham’ are easily carried away by their retarded gimmicks meanwhile the intellectuals are struggling because of a severe logic-attack. (For your reference, logic-attack is a new terminology which means the numbing of the human logic. A unique syndrome of logic-attack is reluctance to fasten on the sanity belt or high chance of burning away the same. Non-medical researchers are yet to cure such a fatal disease. The after-effects of this social disease are still open to question.)

Dark nights, orphaned bombs (whose lousy parents claim no responsibility), tug-of-war among the political parties/candidates for the upcoming General Election are three main characteristics that mark this ongoing Waakching month. On the other side, the ‘Praja suumnaba kadar-fadar’ magnetic tricks such as allotting thika and special funds for feasts, cinemas or ‘out of the blue’ sudden developmental plans of each and every leikai etc. are serious chores for the ‘haabi-jaabi’ election agents of the respective kendras. Over the last few weeks, many homes might have been allotted free sacks of ‘meitaan’ and kilos of free rice or other basic commodities. It’s like a free-loot for some smart ‘khongbaan-chenba’ gangs. For those who are struggling for two meals a day this is perhaps the much awaited time when they are fed on free rice, booze and what not? They are feeding themselves for next five years to shout, yell and protest on the many unwanted incidents that can be easily forecast in a state like ours.

We the People (or should it be the Wee People?) are easily tricked and tipped by corrupted politicians. In advertising, it is exemplified as the art of selling comb to a bald man. You have to convince him at any cost to sell your product. It’s a trick, tactic or technique that always works wonders for the advertiser to convince and encourage that bald man to buy the product. The same case can be half-applied to what the philandering politicians are doing with us. They are taking our votes away promising us ‘never existing solutions’ and we are still ready to do that? The only related question that eats my mind every now and then is whether we are cheaper or unworthy than those lifeless brands? Can the political parties and candidates buy us so easily without any bargain? What the heck?!

Nevertheless, my mention of the art of selling a comb to a bald man was a mere example and I do not even remotely mean to imply that advertising is a philandering art of communication. But, all is damned! It’s quite a shame. I sincerely thought 2012 is going to be the most ‘Romantic’ year of the century but some shit-minded hooligans have left no stone unturned to prove me wrong.

It’s raining bombs in the State meanwhile the shootings for powerless Dark Night (s) (sans K) in Manipuri version have also started. The political parties, candidates and their supporters are all the while hosting comedy shows trying to cheer up the depressed, oppressed and suppressed people with fake (never meant to be kept) promises. Everything sounds so grungy to me. And amidst all these, the collective role played by Ema Manipur is that of a Lukokpi, Napangbi and Meettangbi.

Bhalo hey!

This article was published on 15 Jan 2011

Memory Chips — Of Past and Present!

Remember those ‘Doordarshan’ days? The early morning Rangoli programs on every Sunday, the Mahabharata episodes, Chandrakanta series, Jungle Book and others, and not to forget the regional movie telecast at 1 PM plus the several evening musical programs—all those fun and frolic moments of watching television with siblings and cousins were unique. Watching television has always been a favourite hobby among us. From kids to age-old aboks or edhous, we have always enjoyed cuddling together before the television set just to watch our favourite programs on Doordarshan. Most of us love recalling those days because we all know that they score a better mark in our hearts as compared to today’s technologically advanced world. Cable television has provided a gamut of options for audiences. However, it is confusing to choose from the list of channels to watch a particular programme or show.

Life seemed so easy, carefree and was, in fact, more enjoyable than watching Doordarshan those days. With just five bucks, we could relish as many varieties of achapots we could. During abok’s times, achapots were much cheaper. I still remember how my bubok used to tell me that an ‘anna’ was more than enough for anyone’s pocket money. Achapot was commonly known as ‘ngamok’ then. It had been almost a custom for kids to stand at the ‘thongaal’ and ‘konthong’ waiting for abok or edhou who would bring home an ‘ngabongkhao’ of ngamok (flavoured with love and affection). I do have a long cherished memory of achapot or ngamok. A distant relative from Lamlai once stayed with us for quite some time. She used to sell vegetables at a local market at Wangkhei commonly, known as Khongnaang Makhong. Every evening, I and my siblings would wait eagerly for Neney Tombi. Packets of snacks brought and kept back at home by Mumma or Baba were so uninteresting to us. It was that particular ngamok Neney would bring home. Once in a while, when she didn’t bring any achapot, it seemed as though my heart was broken and I was on the verge of crying—I had the first ever HEART BREAK of my life. Neney is no more and bubok has been relocated to heaven since a long time ago but whenever I unlock the memory bank of those good old days, I feel so proud and rich in my heart to have such precious memories.

The times, they are a-changin’. It is indeed a world of fast-food, fast-communication and fast-fad.

Sharing a joke or story with a friend is just one SMS away. Communication has no more got a gap but relationships sure do have that unbridgeable breach (if I have to say so). To cite an example, the other day I had a word with a long lost childhood friend. She was almost complaining about how she had lost one of our mutual friends’ mobile number because of which she is not able to keep in touch with her. I was a little taken aback and my thoughts were somersaulting here and there with questions like—when and how have we started relying on that ten-digit number to get in touch with a friend?

Earlier, the road to a friend’s home was never long. We would barge in at our best friend’s home and shamelessly eat anything offered by his/her mom. With the introduction of mobile phones, I suppose, one needs to decide the particular time and place to catch up a long lost friend these days. Whatever! It’s just one hell of a yawning topic to exaggerate on.

When it comes to fashion talks, it’s pretty amusing to notice an upsurge of Korean fashion especially in Imphal sehar. With the fast spreading Korean flu that has infected the modern generation of kids and even adults to copycat anything about Korea, I guess the day won’t be far when there will be a Korea Fan Club in the vicinity of Imphal sehar. Some are wannabe fans of emo fad. I wasn’t aware about the very term ‘emo’ until I saw a cousin of mine on Facebook changing his new profile picture. He coloured his hair in terrific yellow colour. Tell you what, wearing an ‘emo’ look is not an easy task. A long list of accessories such as colourful bangles, hair-bands, and metal jewelries for piercing eyes or noses are needed to have an emo look.

Another interesting observation among modern kids is their lingo which is simply fantabulous. The use of any F lettered word is universally approved and Manipuri kids are not far behind any other race in the usage of this very F lettered word. The more F lettered word one uses, the cooler he or she sounds among his or her friends. A fast spreading flu, I guess the day won’t be far when the nursery kids would even spell ‘F for F### instead of F for Fish. This topic is anyway a turn-off for many ‘F’ fans.

Last but not the least; early marriage is another rampant practice among modern generation of youngsters. It is not surprising to find out an eighth standard girl getting married to a ninth standard boy. With ‘nupi chenba’ almost a cultural trait among Manipuris, most of the kids can’t wait to get married. The irony here is that the eligible Pakhangs and Leisabis are reluctant to tie the knot while the kids can’t wait to get married forsaking their studies, career and what not?

Que Sera Sera! Any of these has got nothing to do with me. My memory-chip from the past is virus-free (sighs). And as for the present one, I think I need to download the strongest anti-virus software. IT-cian friends, any suggestion?

This article was published on 8 Jan 2012

The Incorrigibly Inscrutable Race Called Manipuris

For many reasons, I sometimes prefer staying in Delhi than in Manipur. Life here in Delhi, as compared to the drudgery and ennui in Manipur, is freaky cool. Yes, it’s tedious to work the whole week anywhere. The buzzing alarm, the laziness to wake up, the rush to reach office on time, the eagerness to reach home no sooner than office ends etc—all these mark the daily routines for most of the professionals in the city. The difference is that we don’t need to bother about economic blockades or dramatic rise in the price of various commodities, though this is not the case in Manipur.

It is true that nostalgia is a chronic disease that each one of us is equally infected with. We miss our homes, our people. We love talking about good old childhood days, those local games, those fun-filled school days, festivals and what not. The smell of u-morok that triggers our appetite simultaneously makes us miss home badly. And if we are lucky enough to relish dishes like chagempomba or tharoi thongba, we fondly tell one another ‘Yumgi insaang yam maandra?’ This is the norm; this is the contagious homesickness that all of us mutually share. And that’s all that we got to amiably talk about Manipur.

The rest as we all know is history in the making in which we are directly and indirectly involved. 100 plus days of economic blockade, woes of people on price rise, the communal malice, the shattered emotions of this and that community—these issues are more than enough to make us all pissed off during our weekend together. We would debate with one another, give our personal opinions, sometimes indulge in quarrels to prove our opinions more noteworthy… but at the end of each and every Manipur-centric discussion, we find ourselves a little annoyed or disturbed. Debates could take the shape of anything. What bothers us most is who is going to preside on our debates? Who is going to listen to our grievances? Who is going to be accountable for what is happening in the State?

The best solution sometimes seems avoiding the discussions on Manipur with a pledge not to start it ever again. But that is next to impossible. We know we will keep talking about Manipur. We will keep quarrelling on issues that affect our people, though it is a different cup of tea whether our people know consciously if they are affected or not?

To a lot of Manipuris who are home based, it would not make an iota of sense staying miles away from the State and talking or discussing on issues that are faced by them back home. Well, the reason that we don’t stay in Manipur doesn’t mean we are less concerned. I doubt if maximum numbers of the Manipuris in Manipur are indeed bothered about the issues at all? If yes, then how? They do not protest, they do not raise their voices on the price rise. Come what may, they are ready to celebrate any festival with great pomp and show. If cooking gas is sold at Rs 2,000, they have alternative means of cooking meals. Instead of protesting or resorting to collectively act or react, they enjoy sober meals and stay quietly within their homes watching ISTV news or watching movies (if it is not a load shedding day). If there is any probable bandh, they get damn excited because another ‘chaak chanaba’ is on its way. Who cares about the economic blockade when one can afford a sumptuous nganu-thongba and yeah some booze (local or imported ones). The day will pass on merrily with some friends and that is more important. Let the problems burgeon day by day who gives a damn? Let an invisible virtual crusader descend on earth from ‘atiya’ and fight on their behalf. Meanwhile, enjoy the boozes, enjoy the delicacies!

All of us are either too cynical or indifferent and there lies one of the starting points of all the problems. It is DISGUSTING to know that political consciousness is a pale joke among the maximum population. I am sorry to say so but our people seem to be pretty OK with what is happening in the State. I do feel that we the outsourced lots are unnecessarily worried and concerned about the situations back there. No one complains, no one cares and everyone supports the situations instead of figuring out doable means and probable measures to solve it together.

Manipur is a living hell, Manipur is a failed State, Manipur is this, and Manipur is that. Everyone loves pointing fingers; no one is ready to lend a helping hand to resolve the problems. It is like ‘People, people everywhere, not anyone to act’. How long will this happen? How long will it take for our people to wake up from the slumber? “FRANKLY, My Dear, we don’t know because we don’t give a damn” would be a probable answer from our fellow Manipuris, the incorrigibly inscrutable race. Oh! Poor Change, it seems it will take years for you to make your presence in the State. Why don’t you plan a world tour first? Manipur will keep waiting for you till forever comes. Ciao!

PS - I do not have any slightest intention to hurt the sentiment of my people. It’s just that I want them to be a little sensible before it’s too late. I also don’t put myself in the shoes of any Vendetta who is trying to reform the society. I am in fact no one to talk about change or reformation. I am just a mere individual struggling for survival and sustenance in a metropolitan city. But trust me; I would love to be proved wrong on my above views.

This article was published on 13 Nov 2011