A Tale of Two Melodramas of the Season

All the Sajibu, Kaalen, Inga and Ingen have their unique flavours. We create seasonal memories with specific occasions and stuffs that make the days special, or at least, memorable. I have come up with a different recipe for Manipur Masala, so that it adds a new tang to the ongoing seasonal melodramas (if I may call it so).

We have two dramas this season: first, the battery of bombs that are ready to explode anytime/anywhere in our state. The second performance is a sensitive national issue—the onion drama.

Who says the government cannot collapse because of tilhou? Food inflation can prove politically disastrous ahead of the next general election, scheduled next year. So, it will be unsurprising if the major political parties are harping on tilhou to make a point or two, inside and outside the talking shop of the Indian democracy.

Now let us see the happenings closer home, yet on the other side of India. I am not sure about the price of the cheap bombs that are available across the state but when it comes to Onion, it’s Rs 80 per kg.

The price is as apt as the thika commission for our babu sahebs. Unlike the spirit of the Manipuris, most of the stingy Delhites have almost decided to stop consuming tilhou entirely. Rupees 80 is such a big concern for the Delhites. The living standard and earning might be higher here in the capital but when it comes to generosity, no one can ever beat the Manipuris. And that’s something we should always be proud of.

The melodrama of tilhou is expected to continue for quite a few days. Meanwhile, the melodrama of bombs will perhaps continue for a few more months or even years depending on the shortage of sanity as far as our state and our folks are concerned. I must not forget to mention that the tilhou issue is not much of a shocking news for us. The recent years have been a sole witness how we, the Manipuris, do not mind even spending more than Rs 1,000 for a cylinder. Then, the petrol and diesel issue—all of us know they are available all the time; we just have to pay more!

According to a secret source of naap-chadaba pao, it has been reported that the recent bomb blasts are more of a reminder to the rest of the nation that this onion price inflation is nothing as compared to the daily inflation of human lives that continue in our state. As usual, our P.M Ji’s reaction to this information was ‘mute’. He has, however, shared his concern over the sarkaar kainam-namba tilhou price issue.

A few sources from Manipur have also reported that Nakuppi and Napaakpi-chaar will be sent in bulk to Bihar and Haryana by the end of this year. This is to prevent government-collapsing tilhou inflation in the coming future. Considering it as one opportunity of Kangleipakisation, our Ingkhol Minister has wished all the Nakuppi and Napaakpi karobaar people all the best for this venture.

Meanwhile, the secretary of ‘Ema Leibaakidamak Sen Niduna Lemjaa Chagani’ party, Mr. Thouleitaba has expressed his concerns through as-to-be-printed press release: “Among the many ‘isms’ we numbly follow in our society, one such remarkable ‘ism’ is Heinabism. We are so obsessed with this habit that we cannot give it up at any cost, which is in fact, a matter of pride for many of us. Coupled with Katan-ism, it’s a long way to go for us. Therefore, I cannot concur the idea of exporting nakuppi or napaakpi chaar to other Indian states. This is not a brilliant idea at all.’

Reality for us is like a chewing gum; we love chewing it but would never ever swallow it because it is indigestive. The consequence would be a little odd. Hence, the thou-waaa saabidaba praja-meeyam of our society are still reluctant to face it. They still purchase petrol at a double price and still do not mind spending lupa marfoo for a kilo of tilhou.

This article was published on 18 April 2013

The Return of the Native

There is not a slightest intention to plagiarise Thomas Hardy’s characters or plots through my column. It’s just a name of his work that I have borrowed otherwise the entire content is but a narrowed version of my own views about returning home after several years of a self-imposed exile.

Well, many of us know not the reason(s) why we are not reluctant to decide on something that has a close connection with our heart. We just make the decision sans any second thought about how or what its impact would be. I did make one such decision — to return home, leaving many lucrative career opportunities and amenities of the capital city. Many ask me if I have found a decent job back in Imphal; many also ask me if I am finally tying the knots. I find it funny yet appreciate their intention to know my relocation plan at home.

Life in a metropolitan city like Delhi is perhaps something that many people, especially from small towns, fancy about. When you have time and money you can buy ‘fun’ in a big city. Yes I mean it. I am not sure about happiness but fun comes at an affordable rate. The night life or day life, there is always something for someone in this city. From the gardens to the various historical monuments, from a gamut of eating outlets to clubs and pubs, one has a plethora of choices when it comes to unwinding a good time. And if that’s not enough, fairs and festivals are frequently held throughout the year. People can choose and select their own menu of having fun. I must admit that people lead a vibrant lifestyle here.

The twist of the entire tale is in the irony of staying here. Despite all the facilities and technologies we are availed of, most of us end up with an empty feeling at the end of the day in the metro. We feel as if we are on a paid-exile that only accentuates the nostalgia of home. It is also a matter of luck to find good friends or companions in the city. People whom you have known for quite a long time change their colour like chameleons. And mind me, telling this, that it is true that if you have the dough, friends swarm around you. Let me put it this way: ‘Feeraal mamai chumlingei marup waatey meeramlenda (khoiradi khangde)”.

The scenario back in our state is a complete contrast to the one in Delhi. Life starts at 4 AM and ends almost at 4 PM. During weekends or on special occasions, there is hardly any place where friends and families can have a good time. Besides the special premiere shows at BOAT, for example, there isn’t any nice movie theatre that screens evening shows. We know clearly, for there are only a few ways, how we can plan to spend quality time, such as feasting, sightseeing and visits to the new-fangled eco-parks; otherwise, there isn’t a life back in our hometown.

Compare and contrast the life in a metropolitan city and the life in Manipur. Even if there are glaring issues that make life so dull, the latter has got the better edge for the time being and that’s why I am relocating away from Delhi. However, I am not really sure how long this decision is going to last. I may get pestered by my own plans and may head for some other city or country in the near future. I may get used to everything and even become immune to the ennui or brouhaha, which marks our life at home. It’s like a test drive of a new vehicle. If I like the test drive, I will plan to stay forever. If not, I will pack my bags and leave for some other destination.

Come rain or shine, I am mentally prepared for everything in store for me in Kangleipak that includes load shedding, long queues at petrol pumps, the accident-prone potholes, untimely flood, cheap bomb blasts etc. As I earlier mentioned, I don’t know why I am no more reluctant to be a part of the ennui or dismantled sense of happiness at home. I am, at times, tempted to give up the relocation plan. But my temptation has been conquered; I have already packed my bags. My last word for Delhi (in a typical manner) is that I have miles to go before I sleep.

PS: Adios Delhi and Hola Kangleipak!

This article was published on 30 September 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

Quintessence of Kangleipak in the Capital City

Home is sometimes so close; it seems, even when you are living in the National Capital City. It is quite an exciting experience to feel the essence of Kangleipak whenever and wherever I travel across New Delhi. A sense of being at home is instilled in me, which has been gradually tinctured from several factors. To cite just one of the reasons, for starters, it’s the delicacies in the Manipurised eating joints that can match the same delightful level that we usually enjoy at home. Indeed, it’s more than just food for thought.

There are so many things why life is so typically Manipuri in Delhi, even after a distance of 2,443 km from the valley. Maroi nakupi is available at the INA market for just 20 rupees per 250 gram. From lafu, lafu tharo, thambou, sougri to kolamni, all of these vegetables—that share a blood relationship with the Manipuri taste buds—are available at most of the local vegetable markets, usually referred to as ‘sabji mandis’ across the city and which are never issues for us to just drop by. After all, there is never a trouble of economic blockade too.

If the maroi nakuppi is insufficient, there are ample choices and several other stuffs to try out. Just a visit to Munirka, our own ‘Churachandpur’ in Delhi, offers an easy way to make a monthly kitchen inventory. Out there, vegetable vendors sell imported original Manipuri vegetables and those matchless products from Moreh. There are some particular shops at this area, where one can visit and grab some fresh vegetables or food items from home.

The prices are no doubt a little high, but that’s no issue when the stuffs have travelled more than two thousand kilometres to tickle our taste buds. For example, a packet of dry u-morok, containing five to six pieces, costs around 30 bucks and a tin fish (what we call a ‘nga kouta’) is sold at double the MRP. Also when it comes to ‘yongchak pantha’, we never mind buying a ‘yongchak’ piece at the cost of 50 bucks.

The North Indian cuisine is a major hit in Delhi. But for the Manipuris, for us, nothing can compare the aura of a plate of steam rice served with a tengkot (bowl) of kaangsoi, with some fried vegetables (what we call kaang hou).

Typical though it sounds, this is quite an observed style amongst the Manipuris in the Capital City. And the trend ever prevails. What is further interesting is that some Delhites are pretty influenced, as we observed, by the North Eastern delicacies, especially those of the Manipuris.

There is a meat shop in Kotla, one of the crowded ghettoised corners for the North Easterners in South Delhi. The meat-seller has played around with the name of his shop, calling it the North East Oaksha/Vawksha Shop, quite a witty way to attract his potential customers. People from North East (especially, the Manipuris) throng the particular shop almost every day, enabling the seller to sell away his stocks like scrummy singju.

Never has the tongue twisted, to recollect, when it comes to relishing any homely cuisine—be it a bowl of ooti or eromba. I am more than sure that the same trend prevails in each and every city or town outside Manipur where our folks reside. Hear the drumbeats, the trumpets: we carry the essence of Kangleipak, no matter where we reside or go. And we are so proud of this fact!

It’s not all food without digestion. Apart from the cuisine talks, it is also encouraging to observe that some of our folks have been celebrating various religious and traditional festivals here in the Capital City. I have personally attended a few celebrations organised by one of the groups called Khonthang in Delhi. The last ‘Khongjom Day Celebration’ was no doubt a cool way of get together. It was also a nice way to remember the ‘Athoubas’ who sacrificed their lives during the Khongjom War and infuse in us a sense of responsibility. I’m also glad to know that the thoughts—of belongingness and the love for Kangleipaak—deeply reside amongst most of the Manipuris who are living outside Manipur.

Apart from food to thoughts, in my personal view, I have also ‘Kangleipaak-tised’ my daily commuting route from Maharani Bagh to Safdurjung Enclave, taking it in the same way I would travel from Wangkhei to Khwairambandh Keithel. Likewise, South Ext reminds me of Konung Mamaang most often, while AIIMS reminds me of Veterinary Hospital (kindly read vetinary hopspitaan for Kangleipak’s sake), the flyover at AIIMS retells me of Sanjenthong and the right cut from Ring Road to Sarojini Market reminds me of Nityaipat Chuthek junction that turns to the Kangla direction.

It may sound stupid to a lot of people to exaggerate things like this but who cares? This is my style of what I usually call ‘Kangleipak-tising’ things. Maybe it has become a seasoned means of consoling or compensating for everything I have missed about home. Maybe it is the rightest way to let the outsourced era pass away swiftly. No matter it’s Sajibu or Lamta-tha, I feel good to bear in my heart such a ‘Quintessence of Kangleipak’ even in the Capital City.

This article was published on 13 Aug 2011