Reverie

A Day at the Taj Mahal

2009-08-07T22:29:00.000-07:00

I have passed through New Delhi a few times always with a plan to visit the Taj at the back of the mind. The unforgiving heat of Delhi defeated me more than once. Summer’s not a good time to go. (I don’t know if winter’s better but I can deal with the cold better that the heat).

I find it easier to talk about the Taj Mahal than Dharavi, the largest slum in Asia among friends abroad. To the question of whether Slumdog Millionaire depicts a real life situation I usually go to the extreme and added that India’s a country of everything: the richest of the rich living side by side with the poorest of the poor. We must go to the Taj to put to rest the question ‘…but have you been there?’ once and for all. That was the determination we had last summer.

We asked around. Those in the know advised hiring a car for a day. Also, we were told of how easy it was to take a train to Agra and come back late in the afternoon. We decided to take the train. We asked if an air-conditioned compartment was available, but we were answered in the negative. So, we booked the tickets to Agra, the best available.

When the trained pulled up on the platform it was already crowded. It was a harsh decision to make whether to fight our way in or to miss the Taj again. There simply was no seat! As the train began to move we decided in a split second to endure a 3-hour ride of who-knows-what to Agra.

Big bro was used to such travelling condition and he fought his way in and made some space, if a little, for us to follow. We managed to hoist the lady to the top berth where she was to squat literally for three hours. People were still fighting to get in! After everyone with a ticket was in there was practically no space left on the whole train. After a few minutes on the train, the dreaded message from the top berth was, “I need to use the loo!” On spying the toilet we found to our horror that it was full, of people too! Two men were fighting over some space but there was no space left to throw punches. And so it was on the way to the love story in white marble.

I found myself standing in the middle of the cabin, face to face with one young fellow who introduced himself as “Puneet” and mentioned he’s a Jain. That’s my first Jain face to face, just a few inches away. Puneet smiled and was cultured and polite. This was how people make it liveable in India. They don’t complain about the present situation even if they do about the general bad condition in every aspect of life. The milling, pushing and pulling crowd didn’t seem to bother Puneet as he talked to me calm but cheerfully. He was fresh out of an engineering college and was on his way home to Gwalior, the princely city. He was curious and informative at the same time. I didn’t know too many things about the Jains or Jainism. What he told me reminded me of a scene in Notting Hill:

Keziah: No thanks, I'm a fruitarian.
Max: I didn't realize that.
William: And, ahm: what exactly is a fruitarian?
Keziah: We believe that fruits and vegetables have feeling so we think cooking is cruel. We only eat things that have actually fallen off a tree or bush - that are, in fact, dead already.
William: Right. Right. Interesting stuff. So, these carrots...
Keziah: Have been murdered, yes.
William: Murdered? Poor carrots. How beastly!

It may not be exactly the same but that’s what I was reminded and it’s along the same line. He got a job as an IT Engineer in Seoul and asked me about my experience of living outside India and his genuine curiosity and unusual modesty was easing the rather pathetic condition in which we were travelling. It was fair, I believe to have exchanged with him about my belief in the God who loved and died for me and for everybody to save us.

He assured me that most of the travellers would get down at Krishnajanmabhoomi, Mathura. That was it. I mean that was the reason why there were half a million people on that train. It was Krishna’s birthday and they wanted to visit his birthplace to offer their puja. If only we had known! And Puneet was right. Most people got down at Krishna’s temple and we were left with just enough people to occupy all the seats and spaces at a civilised distance.

The rickshaw driver was friendly and talkative. He offered to take us to other attractions around Agra but we came here for the one and only Taj. We struck a deal with him: he would take us to lunch, to the Taj, and to a bus station after the Taj. Don’t remember how much we paid him but it was worth it. He parked his rickshaw and waited for us as we joined a very long line of people queuing up to get inside.

Entry fee for one was 700 rupees, said the ticket seller. But we would not give him. We brought the EPIC card with us for that very purpose and the price was much less (I don’t remember the exact price. This double pricing system is a bit controversial. When you are at the receiving end it can be pretty upsetting but the logic behind this is that for tourists from developed nations it’s only a small amount of money. But when everyone else pays just a fraction of what you are paying for the same thing it can feel really discriminating. Well, I am just saying).

There is a pagoda near the place where we are living now and the government had been investing a lot of money developing the place for tourism. The real attraction at the centre of the park pales in comparison when you think about the likes of the Taj. But the amount of money and effort that went into building an attractive tourist place, with the second largest (or is it 3rd or what?) musical fountain in Asia thrown in is just mind blogging and admirable. Makes one wonder what would happen to a place like the Taj with the same effort. The surrounding area of the Taj looked old and unkempt and was full of dilapidated buildings; totally unattractive and dirty. How can we let such an important monument be in the middle of all the squalor and dirt, one wonders.

Everybody was frisked, X-rayed and scanned at the entrance. It was understandable. And finally, there was the Taj Mahal in all its glory! It’s awesome, truly awesome. You don’t need to praise it for there are simply not enough words to even begin to describe it. You don’t have to prepare glossy brochures of the Taj. You don’t need to advertise. You don’t need any announcement; you don’t need any guide to tell you that you are present now at the place of grandeur. You don’t have to tell people it’s beautiful. This is it, the very embodiment of grandeur! I am glad to have finally seen it.

Here's one pic after many attempts to upload

The rickshaw walla drove us to a travel agent. We thought we were going to have a nice, relaxing bus on the way home instead of the unspeakable train. But it was not to be. When we realised what we were in for it was too late. The travel agent was simply buying seats for us from another agent. When the bus arrived we were seated at the last row and were told that we had to get down at the outskirt of Delhi!

The bus stopped on the way for dinner. We ordered the food and asked the price beforehand just to make sure. Three people heard the same thing: Rupees 60 each. We ate and drank voraciously out of hunger not because it was especially scrumptious. Then came the bill, 600 Rupees each! Why do these people exist just to make your life miserable and make a living out of cheating people? It’s no wonder we often feel more unsafe in our own country. Then we arrived at the outskirt of Delhi at the unfriendly hour of 11:30pm. We didn’t even know where we were! After a few minutes walk we finally got a rickshaw which was driven by a slightly deranged person. He had no care in the world, least of all the traffic rules. Somehow, we got home.

Now, do I think it was worth the effort? First, I believe the government of India has enough dough to invest in buying new trains, upgrading the present bogeys, build more tracks and offer better service in general with a little more effort. The trains are always crowded everywhere. You have never heard of empty trains in India. So, why don’t we just buy more and make more money, me thinks. Up the price a little in exchange of better service, everybody’s happy to pay if they get the service they wanted.

Secondly, why don’t we make it easier to access a place like the Taj Mahal so that everybody can go and enjoy without any fear or hesitation. Friendly place of grandeur and wonderment means more tourists and better business for everybody. Can’t we see that? There are things I can say about restaurateurs, waiters, taxi/rickshaw drivers, tour operators and all those who offer their services to tourists and are constantly in touch with tourists: about how they should earn their living in honesty and make tourists feel safe and welcome but I am not sure if my preaching’s going to do any good.

Do I still think it’s worth all the trouble? Certainly! It’s such a place I can say I enjoyed being there and I am glad I made it after all these years. It’s even better than the picture! Minus the unnecessary hassles it was even otherworldly. This is incredible India in every sense.

More than words

2009-08-04T03:43:00.000-07:00

Thai-Burmese border

Here comes the next Ronaldo

Karen School Children

Greenery

Bangkok skyline

A Karen Church

The Golden Triangle

A butterfly

Akha beauties

An Akha Church

Duhaisam

2009-08-01T23:02:00.000-07:00

(circa 2001)

Chhun ni herin tlai khua a thim

Turni a liam, chhawrthla a eng.

Hlim ni ka chhiar awm khua harin

I zun ngaiin vala ka riang.

Hmana tahna hlimna thlentu

Chhingmit tui far chhawlhnawn tuifim!

Hlimlai ni zawng nang ngaih tizual

Tawn loh kar zawng tawn ni thlirna.

Ni a sei thlawn, zan lah chatuan

Tlai khua varin lunglen a zual,

Chhun ni a rei ka van ruai e,

Nang nghilh lai reng a awm si lo.

Zing thla zarin lo thlawk teh la,

Hlim nui hiauvin kan vangkhuaah,

Lo lawi mai rawh run lum nuthai

Duh ai ka sam, tlai ni lenin!

(Title revision: Val Lunglen Duhaisam, "thil tha" la hmu ve lo te tan!)

Briefing from the land of smiles

2009-07-23T10:39:00.001-07:00

From the land of blocking, blogging is hardly possible. Facebook, youtube, blogs of any kind, sites with sensitive words (words you are not supposed to even think about, let alone mention them here), etc, etc are all blocked. For some of these, even proxy sites would not penetrate them. You are supposed to dig too deep to get around the great firewall for which I have no motivation nor time. That's the most obvious reason why this blog had been inactive for months now. Other reasons being busyness and laziness and writer's block (if a non-writer is permitted to have one).

H1N1 was a big concern and it scared us a little bit. But the trip's been planned and petitioned (upwards) for too long. Efforts to cancel turned out to be too mafan (that's troublesome for you), and off we went after consulting all sorts of people in the know practically from everywhere. Suvarnabhumi airport looked a little deserted at 2:20 in the am and we were rather happy about that. The visa fee had been cancelled till sometime next year and the immigration officials looked extra friendly and welcoming. After all we were among the few who dared to be in this land when every one else decides to stay out of trouble.

But what is this? Only very few people were actually wearing masks in the airport and we looked sort of out of place here with our masks on. We decided to take them off as well in the end. Airasia was giving some kind of promotional tour to some special guests. As we fly off to Chiang Mai with these special people we sat right behind the star of the group and the cameramen were all the time focusing on her moves. Nothing to make your heart skip a beat though.

I remember me six odd years ago, all impressed with the people who smiled at you and looked angelic in Bangkok, the city of angels (that's the meaning of the name). But I am now convinced people seemed to smile without actually smiling in their hearts.

Chiang Mai reminds us of home. Tin roofs, green hills, blue skies - they are all here. We begin to realise how deprived we have been. I love Thai food for one, seafood especially. Temples? Am not too big on it. Go to one, they're more or less the same. One is quite enough. Not even sure if we are going to any this time around. Let's just be here and enjoy and relax a little more before we get back to where you need to talk in tongues and hope someone outside would know how to interpret and get your message across somehow. The feeling of freedom in the air, the knowledge that you are not under the radar of anyone and the anonimity you have is sufficient to give you satisfaction and enjoyment in this land for now.

Khob kun krub and khob kun ka!

This is what one writes when he is too restless to sleep and uninspired to do any serious thinking. That's all for now. Yeah, non-sensical, isn't it?

Notes from the Middle Kingdom

2009-04-19T08:09:00.000-07:00

Don't try this at home

You are on a busy Beijing street. Everybody’s trying to go their own way, somehow. You know from experience that if you don’t push your way a little you are never going to get there. You know about courtesy; you know about politeness – yes you remember all your etiquette and manners but sometimes you have to get things done. Getting things done, like crossing a road, may not be as easy as it sounds. And if you are going to get there, you know you have to do so in a flash, and you may have to break a few rules here and there.

The trick here, according to Dema, is to walk somewhere in the middle, among the milling crowd where you have the least chance of involving in an accident. You don’t have the time to die yet; and in any case if you happen to be the one among the millions, it's going to be too much of a coincidence. You don’t want to help manufacture that coincidence, since it won’t be a coincidence anymore. A single Mizo soul among a billion of them, come on, give others the chance!

Crossing the road, well, it’s not so mundane anymore. Before you cross the road, your Singaporean friends most probably will confront you with the all important question of “Do you HAVE insurance?” And that would surely give you some nerves. The next big Q is, “Do I have the SOS card in my wallet?” followed by others like “Is my phone number written down?” “Am I safely tucked somewhere in the middle?” etc, etc. Then you have to try and get across when everybody else is trying to do the same thing from all directions. So, you throw courtesy and caution to the winds, and try to get to the other side.

Now, back to that busy street in Beijing. You are waiting for the light and when it goes green you took the nearest hand to your right, where a moment ago was your better half. Then you are practically on flight, trying to make it across, along with the crowd, somewhere in the middle. You are tightly holding on to the hand. You feel a tug here, a tug there, but you only have eyes for the other side. Phew, you finally made it, and heave a big sigh of relief. You manage to get your lady across yet another road; no small feat!

Somehow, you wonder why the lady in question was trying to get her hand away so quickly. She was frantically trying to pull her hand free from you! Then you turn to her, surprised, and a bit annoyed. Then she says “Hey, mister, what are you doing? Excuse me!” Then you find her turning red out of anger. You have already released her hand when she said that as if you it were a live charcoal.

Now you realise that the hand you were holding a moment ago in fact was not your better half’s. Somehow, she had been nudged away from your side, while you waited for the light. You have taken a hand that never belonged to you since Adam! Then it is your turn to blush and look stupid. Fortunately she arrives by your side as you try to lamely explain yourself to the bemused lady. Her mere presence by your side was a good enough evidence to back up your story that you have made a mistake. Being away from her usually means trouble and ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone. You are glad she arrives just on time.

‘Her hand was very soft, by the way’, so you think!

HK Revisited

2009-03-25T22:44:00.000-07:00

Night vision through the window

She thinks everything felt like a dream and to me it was more like a finely scripted movie. After all we were headed for Hong Kong, the city of Wong Kar Wai! In any case there was something surreal about the whole episode. And no one could have scripted the drama and directed the whole play as well as He did and it was just thrilling to watch every scene as it unfolded before us. It was like watching a master conductor conducting and orchestrating a symphony orchestra as they perform his magnum opus on one of those unforgettable and inimitable nights. Just. We were so privileged to have experienced and tasted his power, his love, his greatness and riches beyond measure.

View from Bishop Lei, Robinson Rd.

We feel covered and protected in everything and we just thanked him for his wonderful, wonderful outpouring of love. A call here, a call there. All things worked together perfectly and we lacked no good thing. Not a single one.

Looking down upon Catholic Immaculate Conception Cathedral from Bishop Lei, just literally!

The sound of a 'medical emergency evacuation' can ring alarming bells to the ears but there was peace in the heart which is truly beyond human understanding. We felt covered by the love and prayers of good folks all around and it was almost physical in nature. Hmm, how do you explain such an experience?

HK scene from Bishop Lei's at dusk

The trip's a sharp contrast to the one before. Immigration came to the craft; and the paper works' all done in a flash. No questions asked. All the logistics taken care of and thank You for everything!

Recuperating in HK

Canossa Hosp.

Kunming and Lijiang: A Journey

2009-02-13T06:47:00.000-08:00

We were expecting a pleasant weather, clear sunny blue skies in Yangshuo and Guilin but it was not to be. It seemed as though we brought the cold wave with us down south. It rained and drizzled for sometime and it was even colder indoor since there was no heating. One day we decided suddenly and spontaneously to travel up to Kunming and to Lijiang, hoping for a better weather.

To travel within two days before the Spring Festival did not seem like a good idea but in the end it turned out that most people had already been home and we had a very peaceful and less crowded journey on the train. Very unlike China during the season indeed!

We're thankful to Seki and his mates for their brotherly love. Seki took care of our hotel and travel arrangement and made sure we had something to eat when every restaurant was shut down for the festival. After celebrating the Chinese New Year (or enduring the firecrackers) at Kunming we decided to leave for Lijiang, 9 hours away by sleeper bus.

M&M and lovely Joana would not hear of us staying in a hotel. They graciously opened their home and hosted us and it felt like home to be with this lovely family. Really enjoyed the beautiful, clean and sunny Lijiang. It's the home of a minority group, the Naxi. Rich and interesting culture, and a beautiful and unique achitectural buildings of the old town, strong enough to withstand a powerful earthquake when modern buildings around the town simply collapsed like a pack of cards.

Lijiang's too nice to be true. And like all good things, the stay must come to an end. Kunming's wonderful too; we love it there every time we visit. But as our friend David likes to point out, "Kunming's for wimps; real men go to Xi'an." Lijiang's a journey, so is Kunming; not the destination. We had to return to the good old grey Xi'an.

Here's a final installment of the photos:

Entrance to Lijiang Old Town

Water way

One of the small lanes at the old town

A lady striking a pose at the Old Town

The Black Dragon Pool

A quiet lane of a Chinese village

A view through the window

Minority Village, Kunming (and the back of Seki!)

Bamboo dance of the Jingpho (Courtesy: Sekibuhchhuak)

On to Yangshuo

2009-02-05T07:50:00.000-08:00

The people at the China International Travel Service Counter, near the bus and train station at Guilin were friendly, spoke English and actually had useful information. They were ready and willing to help even if you don't buy any of their services. They offered us a hotel with a standard double room for 100 Renminbi a night at a 3* Hotel which would be no less than 400 RMB at peak season. The Home Minister went up to check the room and after the inspection we managed to cut down the price to 90 RMB a night.

The West Street, Yangshuo

the photographer photographed

fellow cruisers from all over

a view of yangshuo township

.....and the bridge across the river

Three days at Guilin is quite sufficient if you are not in a hurry. (You could do it for less, but more than three would be a day too many). We then left for Yangshuo where the scenery is supposed to be much better. The bus ride cost 15 RMB and an hour and twenty minutes but it was worth every minute.

Decided to try and follow Lonely Planet recommendation on accomodation this time around and went looking for Bamboo House Inn. We were satisfied with the room, with a balcony and especially the soft bed. The cosy atmosphere, the food, the setting, the readily available information, free internet (wireless included) and the service was superb and Bamboo House Inn did not disappoint. We were extremely happy most of all for the friendly, English-speaking staff, which is a rare thing here. We met interesting people there which I shall mention and talk about in some other appropriate place and platform. And of course, the scenery was something that inspires and uplifts the spirit.

Yangshuo fisherman

Yuval, an Israeli who arrived from India after spending six months there, came over to the Bamboo Inn and asked whether we'd be interested in doing a cruise from Yangdi, about 40 kilometres from Yangshuo. Hiring a raft cost Y200. If you get more people you can split between you and the price could be much cheaper that way. In the end there were nine of us. Two Chinese girls, an American couple, a German, an Israeli couple and us, the Indians. We had the most beautiful day of our time. The sun was up and it was really a perfect day as it rained the day before and the day after.

The cruise to Yangshuo from Yangdi on the Li river

This scenery is painted on the back of a 20 Renminbi bill

One of the clearest pics I could manage

limestone peaks reflected on a still lake

Glimpses of Guilin

2009-02-04T08:27:00.001-08:00

Had to flee the cold, dry and grey Xi'an soon after the exams, hoping to enjoy a warmer weather down south. However, we seemed to carry the cold wave and haze and fog with us as we arrived at Guilin. The cruise along the Li river did not give us the scenery we had expected but it was still something to cherish. Take a glimpse, if you will. Hope to give you glimpses of Yangshuo which is much better than what you see here now. Watch this space!

karst mountains reflected on the foggy Li river

Ah, the rafts!

Guilin city, behind the scene

A fisherman and his obedient and reliable cormorants

The karst mountains of Guilin, the Solitary Beauty Peak at the left

The Elephant Trunk Hill actually looks like an elephant

On Christmas and New Year

2009-01-01T21:02:00.000-08:00

My mind was already switched on for the holidays since we had a team Christmas dinner on 19th December. The Foreign Exchange Department offered to take us out on a Christmas trip to a holiday resort a few weeks before Christmas. We saw Christmas decorations everywhere. Most restaurants wore Chrismas look and waiters were instructed to put on Santa's hat and are liable to be fined if they took them off.

You see Santa smiling at you in the supermarkets and shops but what you will not see is a scene of the Nativity. However, even a week after Christmas we still need to work, holidays have not come yet. It was hard to get back to work on Boxing Day after a hard-earned day off on Christmas Day, but only to be made up the next day. Here's a brief on what happened during the past two weeks:

Christmas at Xi'an

We are aware that it happened every year but we have never actually been there ourselves. So, we set out on Christmas eve to the Bell Tower, the city centre to witness the gathering of thousands of people to celebrate Christmas without knowing what it really means. We arrived at dusk but it was getting quite busy even then.

Many people did brisk business in the makeshift market on the sidewalk

We went looking for some gifts for friends and we dropped in at a book shop for about a quarter of an hour. When we emerged from the store the streets began to look really busy and it took us a long time to walk even a block because by this time the streets were absolutely crowded. The traffic was closed on all the four main roads leading to the Bell Tower at about 8 o'clock. The roads were jam packed all we could see was the back of the heads of people. A quiet corner was nowhere to be found and it became a bit suffocating in the end.

Christmas trees infront of Zhongda International on Nanda Street

We were fortunate to get a table in an Italian restaurant for our Christmas Eve dinner since every restautant was crowded (and the steak was scrumptious by the way). When we got back on the streets the party had already begun. Most people wore masks, Santa's hat, wigs or a lighted devil's horn or carry some Christmas balloons or other symbols. This is the time, it seems to me, when they mixed everything western together - Halloween, Yuletide, Valentine's Day etc, etc . Among the thousands (more than a million I reckon, actually) who thronged the streets what chances had we to meet any of my students? But we did, though some of them had been told not to venture out from their dormitories but the pull was too strong I guess.

Christmas revellers on the main streets of Xi'an

Most Chinese see Christmas as a time to have fun with friends and it is supposed to be very romantic. What they know about Christmas showed in the decorations they put up which include Santa Claus (who they call Christmas old man), Christmas trees, and mostly Santa Claus. Things are usually very quiet during the traditional festivals (except for the Spring Festival when they may gather again in the same scale). But even then things are not as spontaneous and as free-spirited as they are on Christmas Eve. Traditional festivals are reserved for celebration with families and relatives. China Daily reported that Christmas is big business in China - even during the global economic slowdown. Read a little more here:

What was once simply a foreign affair has not just grown in popularity, but morphed into a festival with Chinese characteristics. So many worshippers and visitors crowded the Northern Church, also known as the Xishiku Catholic Church, in west Beijing on Christmas Eve that traffic controls were needed. Wang Peng, 29, a stock broker, has experienced the festival in the church for the fourth year. Although not a Catholic, he said the church is the best place to feel the spirit of Christmas and get a taste of different culture. "You go to a library to read books and to a church to spend Christmas," said Wang, who attended the 5-pm Mass yesterday. "More people are coming here. They might not be religious people; they are here to relax and meet friends." Read more

We decided to head home at about 10:30 but we had to go outside the city wall to get any form of transpotation. Taxis and buses were too crowded and too hard to find we had to hire a tricycle in the end. It was a totally different and interesting experience and we have a feeling that there's so much that you can convey to people starting with what they already know. So we say, "yeah" for Christmas whatever that may mean to different people.

New Year

Never remembered when a New Year's day was of any significance here for they have their own Lunar New Year which happens to be the most celebrated and eagerly waited time for all people. But the New Year's day, or January the 1st had gained it's place and popularity among the people. A number of students sent us New Year's wishes which is a novelty. There was a TV show on CCTV 9, the only English Channel, to usher in the New Year along the lines of the Spring Festival TV Mega event but not as big which I can't remember watching in the past. Things are changing here and I believe that it is for the better.

The President's televised speech assured the people of the world that China's reform and opening, in it's 30th Year since Deng Xiaoping started it will continue in the coming years and it remains to be seen what that opening actually entails.

Many things happened in 2008 and what a year it had been for us! So, out we went, after the classes to celebrate the year that was, and to give thanks for his goodness. We chose the Small World Cafe along the city wall and had a quiet, wonderful dinner. The food, as always, was just so wonderful. We are looking forward to have a great year with his leading. Happy New Year to you.

Xi'an City wall on New Year's Eve

Truth in the inner parts

2008-12-22T04:51:00.000-08:00

Surely you desire truth in the inner parts

-King David

(Ps. 51:6a)

It was interesting to browse the mobile phone handsets on display here in the market. I refrained from buying the all attractive 3G 16G iphone after deciding that the quoted price was still a bit much here compared to the price in the states. However, what you could get here in terms of fake goods is often unbelievable!

The salespersons introduced the fake handsets with some clear hint of amusement and one came across brands like ‘Sansung’; ‘Nakia, etc., etc. mofăng (模仿) is Mandarin for 'copy or imitation' and píngŭo is for 'apple'. Try and see the difference between the original and copy version of Apple iphone here:

Most of these fake handsets look very much like the original; however a few tests would reveal that they aren’t for real and wouldn’t last for long. Just open and see the inside and what you see will tell you that it’s better to buy the real McCoy or none at all. The battery had a warning telling me not to recharge it while it’s still inside the phone and recommended using a wall charger. There are more issues that told me not to get one but for the sake of finding out what it was all about I browsed and tried a few of them. The presentation was often interesting and impressive at times. Well, at the copy capital of the world most of the things can be copied.

Most of the time in life we act what we don’t feel. There’s a bit of an actor in all of us and the Bard had said “all the world’s a stage” and we all know it’s true. It’s easy to fool people but we know what is really inside us. So, with this constant practice of acting and convincing people of what we want them to feel and think about us we get better each day I guess. However, when we bring this part of our nature into our worship and relationship with an omnipotent and omniscient God it doesn’t work at all. To the Samaritan woman He said his Father was looking for worshippers who will worship in spirit and in truth not only in Jerusalem. That was to say that the true worshippers could worship him from anywhere (not only in a building) as long as it is from the heart, that’s what he is looking for.

It’s been over a hundred years and I believe we still have a long way to go in our walk with him. It’s not only about corporate practice of faith but it is about relationship and communication at the spiritual level - ‘worship from the heart’. We have to realise the essentially important ‘closing of the door and kneeling to him in private’ so that we may get our reward not from the praises of people but from him who is in secret.

Are you truthful in the inner parts, that’s the all important question. He saw you last night as you celebrated Christmas Eve. And he knows and sees you wherever you are. He wants true worship from the inner parts that might begin with telling him what you have done and he is ready and willing to forgive those who have broken and contrite spirit. That's what he came here for more than two thousand years ago. Merry Christmas!

Sawi ve reng reng ang

2008-12-09T00:54:00.000-08:00

Roreltua awmte hi Pathian ruat an ni

- Rom 13:1b.

Hunte leh hunbite a ti danglam a: Lalte a sawn bo va, lalte a tungding a

- Daniala 2:21

Sawi ve reng reng a ngai. Inthlan hmain kan tawngtai tlat. Kan dil a, hei hi kan hmu a, kan sawi hi a thiang a ni. "Mahni phu tawk ang zel roreltu kan nei thin" an tih avangin Pathian hnenah kan phu tawk ang min pe tawh lo hram turin ka lo dil ve mial mial a. Kan phu tawk leh kan neih chuan kan ram hian eng kan an phah dawn lo; phu tawk aia sang ngen ngawl taka dil kha a tulin ka hria a ni.

India inthlanpui hnuhnung berah mi tam zawkin BJP an chak leh an ring a, Congress an sawrkar leh ang tih an ring lo. Economy a tha a, ramin kawng hrang hrangin hma a sawn a ni. A lehlamah BJP sawrkar laiin nasa takin ringtute'n nekchepna leh tihduhdahna an tawk a, Gujarat-ah buaina namen lo thleng a, Orissa-ah te pawh. Hindu hovin min nghaisa nasa dawn a nih hi tia mi tam tak an rum laiin Pathianin an sawrkarna chu a paihthla a, "A va mak em!" kan ti a nih kha.

MNF sawrkar-in term hnih chhung sawrkarna an chelh a, mipui duhthlanna a lo chhuak a, an kal a ngai ve leh ta. An tlin zawh tak lohna chhan kawng hrang hrangin a sawi theih ang. Zoramthanga chuan 'sawrkar dinglai nin vang' (incumbency factor) ni berah a ngai a. Ngaihdan dangah corruption nasat lutuk vang tih te, Law and order mumal loh vang, sawrkarin a tih tur a thawk zo lo, etc, etc a awm nawk mai. Heng zawng zawng hian kawng hrang hrangin awmzia an nei vek awm e. Vote thlaktu tam zia leh an kal thatzia enin engemaw kawng zawng tak chuan 'Obama factor' te pawh kan ti ve thei awm e. Mi tam tak, a bikin thalai, khawvel tukverha dak phak chin tawh phawt chu tunhma zawng aiin vote thlak ngei turin a fuih phur ve ngei ngei ang. A hmuna awm lo tan chuan rindan sawi a ni deuh vek mai a, sawi thui vak lovang.

Tun tum inthlana rilrua thil lo langsar tak tak te chu hetihian han sawi thuak thuak dawn ila (ngaihtuahna fim tak pawh ka hmang hman em em bik lo):

Mipui kan fing leh zual tawh: Tunhma zawng aiin mipuiin ram hmangaih nachang kan hre leh zual ta a, kan fing ta zawk niin a lang. Mi tam tak party politics-ah la buai fo mahse, a ngaihna hre chin te hi chuan 'party' ai mahin candidate te enin vote an thlak ta niin a lang. Congress hrim vote lam ai mahin a candidate an chhawp chhuahte an hralh an tla zawk niin a lang.

YMA-in absolute power a hloh deuh em?: Tunhmaa YMA, pawl thianghlim nia kan ngaih thin kha mi engemawzatin politics lama invawrhna 'platform' atan an hmang ta mek niin a lang a. A tir lama politics-a zuang lut te khan an tlin phah a, tunah chuan an tlin phah ta vak lo niin a lang. Thil kan ti chho zel a, kan zir chho zel bawk niin a lang, a tha lam a niin ka ngai.

Mahni thawhchhuah loh pui lo claim a him lem lo: Ram hruaitu lu berin 'Pathian rawngbawltu' nuai khat kan tir dawn tiin a puang dum dum a, Mizoram sawrkarin engtikah mah Pathian rawngbawltu a tir ngai lo. Pathian Kohhrante'n Pathian thu hmuin an tir thin a ni zawk. Sawrkar chu Pathian hmanrua mai a ni.

Vote Bank Politics a reh deuh em?: Chhung leh khat, vua leh vang in vote luih luih kha hmun tam takah chuan a la awm em em ang. Mahse, tlem tlemin a zia chho zel turah ka ngai. Mahse, Chhim khawthlang lamah chi bing in vote-na a la nasa hle tih result atangin a hriat theih. West Tuipui Constituency-a MLA thlan tlin hian a bial a hum hneh hle. He bial atang hian Mizoram MLA inthlan awm tawh reng rengah Mizo pakhat mah an la tling thei lo. Hemi avang hian hmasawnna pawh a 'satel kal' tial tial a, hnuhchhawn ramah a chang chho zel 'ni berin a lang'.

Media role a langsar: Mizorama chanchinbu darhzau ber berte leh Cable TV te'n sawrkar thlak chungchangah role an nei lian hle. Inthlan hma kumah Zoramah kan awm ve a, mipui ngaihdan siam, thlak leh hruai kawngah kan chanchinbu leh electronic media lam an pawimawhin an langsar leh zual hle. A tha zawnga changkanna a ni e.

Inthlan result lamah erawh kan chanchinbu website hote an che muang viau. www.lawrkhawm.com leh www.misual.com te an tangkaiin an fakawm hle. Election Commission website pawh a rintlakin a chhawr nahawm hle mai. Chanchin thar a thlen rual rualin kan lo hre ve zung zung mai.

Opposition an va chau dawn ve!: Shadow Ministers tih vel nei thei khawpin opposition an inhlawmkhawm tha thei ngut ang em? Duh aiin an tlem mah mahin ka hria.

Roreltute hi Pathian ruat an ni: A tawp ber leh a pawimawh berah chuan Pathianin a duh duh hi a tung ding a, a duh duh a paihthla mai thin. Inthlana chak chhan leh chak loh chhan zawng zawng bul ber hi chu Pathian liau liau a ni. 1998 thleng Congress-in ro an rel tawh. Corruption leh zu leh sa leh kawng hrang hranga sualna pawh kan ramin a dai nasa a, mi tam tak an rum thin. Pathianin tunah hian tungdingin 'chance' a lo pe leh ta. A duh zawng leh a zai ngai, amah tih chunga ro an rel loh chuan reiloteah kan ‘mangtha' leh mai ang.

Kan zavai hian khua leh tui tha nih tum ila, mahni theuh hi kan hna theuhah han corrupt lo phawt mai ila ram siam thatna chu kan tan a lo ni reng dawn a ni. Sawrkar thar lo piang tur hi tawngtaina nen chelh ila, anni'n an theih tawpin ram leh hnam thatna turin rinawm takin thawk sela anmahni leh an chhungte ei khawp chu nitinin Pathianin a pe zawk dawn a ni. Kan Pathian Nung tia sawi kur dup lovin a nun ang ngeiin amah tih a pawimawh zel ang.

Hei hi ka 'two cents' worth' chu lo ni rih phawt teh se.

Cold Wave

2008-12-04T20:15:00.000-08:00

The Siberian cold wave is sweeping across the country and the temperature has dropped below freezing for a few days now. (That's me resorting to weather for want of more interesting things to talk about). Anyway, when it's below freezing you really feel it in your skin. Hope we'd have a white Christmas this year. What I really want to do now is pass you the following quote, and see if it encourages you (in its simplicity and clarity) to go forward with whatever task you have been entrusted with:

There are difficulties on every hand,
and more are looming ahead. Therefore, (mark that) we must go
forward.

- William Carey
ca. 1796

Autumn Lullaby

2008-11-09T01:43:00.000-08:00

Autumn is here

in the leaves

painting the mountains

in a master stroke,

full of colours.

Butterflies

flutter their wings,

chasing the fluttering leaves

as they fall

to the ground

Autumn leaves

as winter arrives

ruffling the dried leaves

on the green grass.

Cover me yet

with the fallen leaves

until spring revives

the barren trees

then I'll spread my wings

The Race Question

2008-11-05T19:13:00.000-08:00

You may have wondered what was keeping yours truly out of radar, or you may not have given a fiddler's fart at all. Just in case you had, may I simply let the pictures speak those thousand words of explanation and excuses?

It has become so hard to find the time to update a blog or whatever log you are keeping. Time is of essence and I find myself running out of supplies most of the time.

You are my reader and I am your writer. You are my audience and I am your speaker. And right now you are listening to me, and I am speaking to you alone. What I say matters to you and the fact that you are listening and taking in whatever I say matters to me.

I have to admit that the infectious American optimism is getting even to me, and I am beginning to believe that change is coming, and that change would be for the good of all. The Obama factor is BIG and believe me it’s going to change a lot of things. I believe I will want to remember where I was and what I was doing when it happened. As of now, I am living in a country where the colour of your skin does not seem to matter in theory but it does and sometime it can hit you very hard when you have to face it, especially in my line of work, teaching language science and a language which is not my native tongue.

As a people group, I believe most of us are racists, may be more so than people in our neigbouring states. I wouldn't want to be a non-local person in our land because of all the things an outsider has to endure. The Burmese, the Vais, the Brus, the Chakmas - it's not easy for them at all. You can't imagine one of them becoming the Chief Minister of the state. The names we call, the treatment we mete out, the way we abuse and the general negative attitude we have of them - I would never want to endure in the life of me. It would be an understatement to say 'It's not nice!' when you are made to feel the second best, not because of your ability, but merely for the colour of your skin or the passport you are holding.

I have written extensively on the demigod status that some white-skinned folks enjoy in some societies including ours. And I am still trying to find ways to convince people that a person is not better or worse than you simply because of his race or colour. As the walls of separation came crushing down in the land of opportunities, I begin to believe that one day we would be free of all these shackles and live as equals in this southwest region of the galaxy. The place may look like a little speck of dust from outer space, but we shall find that there's a room for us all, black and blue, white and green and all colours, on this planet after all. So, I salute you, Mr. President Elect, and I join you in saying "Yes, We Can!" with much more enthusiasm and believe than when you first begun.

One man spoke of his dream on August 28, 1963, from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and said, "I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.’ I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood." Just look at what had become of his dreams. You have to dream big, and the dream will come to you eventually.

Xi'an kan thleng leh ta

2008-09-30T11:57:00.000-07:00

China ramah hun engemawchen rawng kan bawl hnuin nikum 2007 June ni 22 khan kan awmna khua Xi’an kan chhuah san a. August 2007-ah BCM Headquarters-a kan hotute hnenah in report-in M&E Committee-ah China rama rawngbawlna chungchang leh rawngbawl zel dan tur report kan pe bawk a. Kan hotute’n BCM College hawn thar HATIM-ah kum khat chhung thawk turin min ti a. August ni 16, 2007 atang khan chu hna chu zawmin kan nupa-in a hmunah kan awm chilh a. Kawng engkimah Principal leh zirtirtu, leh zirlaite hmangaihna leh duhsakna kan dawng a, a ropui kan tiin kan lawm hle. HATIM hian potential a nei tha hlein kan hria a, Pathianin nasa takin mal a sawm ang a, a ram zauna’n a hmang zel ang tih kan ringin kan beisei tlat a ni.

Kal rawh u

In lamah leh Zoramah thawh tur leh rawngbawlna pawimawh tak tak te kan hmuin kan thinlungin a hrereng mai. Chutianga Pathianin a kohna hmuna thahnemngai taka thawktute kan hmu a, a ropui kan ti. Chutiang a nih reng lai chuan Pathianin tuna kal tura min kohna hmun chu China a la ni reng mai. Hmun hrang hrangah Kohhran leh mimal, rawngbawla kan chhuah leh theihna tura min tawngtai saktu te au thawm a hrereng a, BCM kaltlangin South East Asia-a rawngbawlna kawng a lo hawng leh ta a. Keini nupa pawh midang tam tak, Pathian tana inpe tak tak an awm laiin khawngaihna rawngbawl hna min chan tir leh a, China ramah a rawngbawl turin kan let leh ta. A khawngaihna kan chanah kan lawm em em a ni.

Lawmthu

Chinese Visa hmuh a harsa hle mai. China rama kan thawhna University atanga thawk tura sawmna kan hmuh vek tawh hnuah pawh kan visa kan buaipui rei hle a. Kum dangah hetiang

harsatna hi kan tawk ngai lo. New Delhi-ah Pu B.Vanlalvawna, IFS chuan hun nei chep em em chung leh buai tak chungin rawngbawlna a ni tih hriain a theih tawpin min buai pui a. Chinese Embassy-ah vawi nga (5) lai form thehlut turin kal a tul hial a. Min duhsakna leh min buaipui avangin a chungah kan lawm hle a, Pathianin tisa leh thlarau malsawmna tam tak a vur kan dilsak a ni. New Delhi-a tum lawk loh taka ni riat (8) kan cham chhungin Pu Lalchuangliana te chhungkuain Pathian rawngbawlna avangin Concern Guest House, nuam tak maiah a thlawn vekin min lo mikhualin min thlen tir a. Chu mai bakah an theihna kawng hrangah phur tak leh hlim tak maiin min buai pui a. An inpekna hian nasa takin min tiphurin min fuih a, an chungah Pathian hmingin lawmthu kan sawi tak meuh meuh a ni.

Mizorama kan awm chhungin Kohhran engemawzatah rawngbawlna chanchin te kan sawi thei a, lawm taka min lo dawngsawng a, min tawngtaisaktute hnenah lawmthu kan sawi a. Sum leh pai leh kawng hrang hranga ui lova min pe a, min tanpuitu te avang pawhin lawm thu kan sawi mawlh mawlh bawk a ni.

China kan lut leh ta

August ni 20, 2008 khan Aizawl atangin Delhi kan pan a. New Delhi-ah Visa buaipuiin kan cham ta zek a. August ni 28 khan Shanghai panin kan thlawk chhuak ta chauh a ni. Shanghai Pudong

International Aiport-ah China sana-a zan dar 8:00 (10:30pm IST) ah kan thleng a. Pathian hnenah mite’n min duhsak theihna turin kan dil a, Immigration-ah buaina engmah nei lovin awlsam em emin kan lut a. Kan lehkhabu ken luh that ngam loh, kan hnutchhiah tak ngawtte kha lo keng tel ila tha tur hi a nia, kan bag an check hauh si lova! Kan Chinese thiannu Rachel-i in panin Maglev rel-ah darkar khata kilometre 430 vela chakin kan tlan leh ta vuai vuai a. Zan dar 11 velah a in kan thleng a, hlim em emin min lo lawm a, mahni in thleng ta ang hialah kan in ngai a ni. Shanghai-ah hian zan hnih kan riak a, August ni 30 khan Xi’an panin kan thlawk a, aiport-ah kan university-in min lo hmuak a. A hmaa kan chenna thin in ngaiah chiah min dah leh a. Pathianin min kohna, kan inah ngei kan let leh ta chu kan thla a ngam hle.

University zirtirna lam

Kumin hian kan University-a Post Graduate zirna hrang hrang an tilian a, zirlai an pung nasa hle. Hemi avang hian zirtirtu pawh an lo mamawh nasa hle mai a. Kan awm hmasak laia ramdangmi zirtirtu 4/5 vel lek awm thin kha 12 lai kan awm ta. Zirlai an tam em avangin Beii pawh kum khat chhung contract sign puiah an ngen lui tlat mai a. Mahse, University-a tawng zir tura inziah luh a duh avangin kum khat chu theiah a inngai lova, semester khat (thla ruk) chhung a zirtir ve leh dawn ta a ni.

Rema hi kan University-a Chinese Saptawng zirtirtute hnenah Linguistics Lecture pe thin turin an ti a, kar tin heng ho hi a zirtir thin a ni. Hei bakah hian College zirlai, English Major zir hote a zirtir bawk ang. Mahni tawkah hna kan ngah dawn viau mai. Inhlawhfa tura kal kan ni lo tih inhriat kha. Kan zirtirna te hi thian tha siamna’n leh rawngbawlna kawng inhawnna a lo nih zel theihna’n min lo dilpui ula. Tin, zirtir thiamna leh finna, Pathian hnen atangin kan mamawh ang zela kan neih theihna’n min dilpui turin kan ngen che u a ni.

Tawng zirna

Chinese tawng thiam tak tak a, anmahni hnenah an tawng ngeia Pathian thu duh tawka kan sawi theihna turin kan bei dawn a. Tawng hi Pathian ta a nih avangin a hnenah thiam theihna a awm a ni tih kan hria a, kan dil a ni. Zirtirtu kan nih avangin tawng zirna class pangaiah kan kal hman ve lova. Tunah hian Puii zirlai hlui pakhat Charles-a kan ruai a, Rema hian a hnen atangin tawng a zir tan mek a ni.

Pathian thu zirna

Kan haw hmaa Pathian thu zirna kan neih thin kha chhunzawm leh nghal mai theih pawh kan inbeisei chiah lova. Mahse, kan thiante Tyson-a leh Fiona te nupa khan min lo nghakhlelin, min beisei hle mai a. September ni 7, Pathian ni zan atang khan Pathian thu zirna pawh kan tan leh ta. He hun pawimawh tak hi min hriatpui a, min lo tawngtai pui mawlh mawlh turin kan sawm che u a ni. Kan beiseina leh kan tawngtainaah chuan hemite nupa hi uluk taka Pathian thu zirtir a, anmahni kal tlanga an inah kohhran inpawlkhawmho la din pui a, anmahni leh anmahni Chanchin Tha an inhrilh a, an pun zel hi a ni. Kan thiante dang Jessia leh Francis-a pawhin thu zirna hun hi min lo zawm ve leh ta bawk.

Kan dinhmun leh kan hmathlir:

June-July, 2008 chhung khan thla hnih dawn AICS-ah training-in kan awm a. Jonathan Training Principle leh Kohhran phun leh than dan chungchang (CMM) Pu Andrew-a’n min zirtir kan hlawkpui hle mai. Kan zirna zulzuiin heti hian kan dinhmun leh hmathlirte i han tarlang teh ang:

Hmathlir:

He ram hian Pathian a lo hriat a, communist kulhpui tihchim a lo nih a, Krista Chanchin Tha zalen taka hrilh a nih a, mi bo tam tak Pathian hnenah hruai an nih a, Kohhran chak taka a lo than zel.

Kan Hna:

Chinese tawng thiam
Pathian thuzir group siam
Ring thar tam zawk siam a, anmahni nen mahni kea ding thei In-Kohhran din
In-Kohhrante’n Kohhran dan tam tak an phun a, an darh zau zel theihna tura thawhpui
Rawngbawltu dangte an lo luh belh zel theihna tura hmalak
Kan rilru ang pumi, he rama awm mekte nena thawhho zel

Pathian thu chuan hetihian a ti:

Hnam dang aia in tam avangin LALPAN in chungah a hmangaihna a fuktir a, a thlang che u a ni lova; hnam zawng zawnga hnam tlem ber in ni asin; LALPAN a hmangaih che u avang leh in pi leh pute hnena chhia a lo chham chu hlen a duh avang zawkin asin LALPAN Aigupta lal Pharaoa kut ata kut chak takin bawih ata a tlan chhuah che u ni...In rilrua, 'Heng hnamte hi kan aiin an tam si a, engtin nge kan luhchhuah theih ang?' ti in nih chuan... anni chu hlau suh u.... LALPA in Pathian Chu in zingah a awm si a (Deut. 7:7,8, 17, 18, 21).

Hriatpui tur leh fimkhurna tur:

China ramah rawngbawltute awm phal a nih loh avangin lehkhathawn, chanchinbu, e-mail, chat, phone leh inbiakna reng rengah Pathian thu leh rawngbawlna chanchin Saptawnga sawi rik leh ziahlan a remchang lo. Fimkhur pui kan ngai hle. Tawngtainaa min lo tanpui theihna turin kan chanchin thar hi thlatin thawn chhuah kan tum a, a dawng duhte chuan in e-mail min lo hriattir dawn nia.

Today

2008-09-24T11:18:00.000-07:00

***

Darling...

Today

is the tomorrow

you feared to face

yesterday;

but we are okay

Today

aren't we?

Today

will be yesterday

by tomorrow;

We shall have

no way back,

whatsoever

to this day

Today is now -

a present from above,

that we must enjoy

and rejoice in.

Today

let us not wait

for tomorrow

to be happy

for tomorrow

never comes.

Some Photos from Mizoram, India

2008-06-06T01:01:00.000-07:00

I was dreaming that once we got back to India, I would shoot away everywhere, and would come out with some wonderful pics on the land and the people of India, especially of Mizoram. Now, I realized that this takes time and energy and inspiration, and most of all sweat. After being here for almost a year I managed a few thousand pics, most of them of family members, and wish I could come up with better ones than what I have now here.

A mail from Mr. Menahem Fogel, of Jerusalem Post, asking for permission to use my photos inspired me to post these. So thanks to him.

See the Photos Here

The Idiot Box

2007-06-11T00:50:00.000-07:00

20th November 1982. The harvest was plentiful that year. It was also the year a city bred teacher decided to settle down for the first time in their village unlike all the others who had gone before him. And the teacher happened to buy a plot of land from him to build his house, and he had never seen such a large amount of money at a single time when he handed him the agreed amount for the land. It was a good year indeed and it was fitting that a village headman had his barn full and his treasury to the fullest, a good example for all the village folks.

Every time the MLA came to their village, usually before the election, he came with a promise of building a road which he called ‘jeepable’ to the village. At the beginning of the new government term they would start the road project but it never did last long, and they have been waiting for the road forever.

When one had such a load of cash, it called for a trip to the city to get new clothes for the children and their mother, and new tools for the whole family for the shifting cultivation. Perhaps they could afford a new gun too. The trip to Aizawl usually takes eight hours straight on foot, through moors and hills; plains and valleys. He travelled with a few other villagers who were going for the same purpose of getting supplies.

In Aizawl he decided to stay at his old friend's, who moved to Aizawl many years ago and had struck it reach by becoming a government contractor and supplier. He left his bag at his friend’s and went out and shopped for the things he came for.

When he came back from the market at dusk his host looked genuinely happy to see him. They exchanged information about their families and they talked at length about the village and the abundant harvest of the year. They were sitting comfortably at the living room after supper and when the dishes were done his host’s younger son Sawmvela opened the sliding doors of a box on the table, and as he pressed one of the buttons, the box came to life with a noisy sound. He fiddled with some of the buttons and then there were moving pictures on the screen.

Mr. Changa watched the whole thing with utmost interest and he could not figure out what the box was all about. It was not a cinema which he had seen a few times in his village when some people from the government came to show them some films about health and other things. He could not keep quiet any longer and he inquired from his host what it was all about. And he was told that the box was called a TV. They were playing hockey on the box and his eyes got glued to the box. When he asked of the price of the box, his host’s reply made him gape, and he thought, “That is worth almost a whole year’s harvest!”

The neighbours started to pour in to watch what they call the Asian Games. And farmer Chang never moved nor flinched from his seat which was a much coveted place as the floor was full of people trying to get a good place.

He was trying to figure out why in the world they called the box a TV. Does it stand for Tukverh, which means ‘window’ in his native tongue? “It may well be so,” he thought “because it had a sort of a window frame at the front which could be closed when not in use.”

The electricity went out at 11 o’clock and he took a leak after everyone had left and slept, dreaming about the box, and how it would make his wife and children happy, and how they might entertain the whole village if he could just have one. Oh, yes, how wonderful it would be to have such a box. They would take it to the farm hut, and watch the moving pictures during a break in the rice fields. They would entertain all the folks who came out to help in the harvest, and what a prize asset it would be for him and his household. He tossed and turned on the bed and sleep was hard to come by even with his tired body after a whole day’s journey.

The next day he went to the big market and he was happy that he could get all his supplies and the clothes for his family. As he was walking down the street, a large crowd gathered at one place and he was obliged to join them and he could see at the front a display of the picture box again, and they were showing a hockey match between India and Malaysia.

That night, after a community gathering infront of the picture tube, he spent half the night in bed, turning and tossing, thinking and dreaming about the picture tube again. He had a troubled sleep that night.

The next day he left after the morning meal, and he said goodbye to his host and his family. On his way to the rendezvous with his village folks, he had to pass through the big market and there was a big crowd at the same place as the day before, watching the picture tube in the shop. And he could not help to go in and ask the price. He felt a sting in his stomach when he realized that the price was almost as much as a year's harvest. But he decided to forget a new gun, a verbal dressing down from his wife for buying such an idiot box for the joy that was set before him in possessing such a magnificient treasure. He perspired slightly when he made the decision to buy the tube, especially when he handed over the money. He smiled when the shopkeeper said, 'Neighbour's envy, owner's pride.' It made him proud already.

“I need to write your name here,” said the shopkeeper, “for the guarantee.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if the television set develops some problem within one year we will repair it for free or in case of a technical defect we can even give you a new one.”

“That sounds wonderful. Please write Mr. Changliana, headman, BPO Sakawrtui.”

After the paper work was done he handed him the big box and Mr. Changa finally became the official owner of a picture box, the first ever in his village. Just wait till you see the envious and admiring faces of all the village folks!

When he reached the rendezvous, Thana, the village youngman asked him, “U Chang [*meaning Big Brother Chang or frog], what in the world is that?”

“Help me get this to the village, and you will have a free entry to my household to watch pictures all day long!”

With that Thana did not ask any more questions. He lifted up the box, a strong young man that he was, and carried it on his shoulders. Better be quiet and do the hard labour and be in the good book of the village unofficial banker, so Thana had learned a long time ago.

The journey took them much longer than the normal time, all because of the box. But it was worth it, yes, every step of the way. So when they arrived at the village finally the word of the arrival of the wonderful picture box spread like wild fire and Mr. Changa’s house was full of the village folks in no time at all.

He remembered what the shopkeeper had told him. “Open the door, press this button,” he had said, “put up the aerial like this, and the picture may not appear at first. You must turn this knob to tune it, and soon you will have the picture stark clear.”

He slid open the door and sure enough the button was exactly where he remembered it. He pushed it in, and he waited for the screen to come on and he was as excited as the village folks who waited with bated breath to see what the picture box could show. Five seconds…one minute…two… “Why did nothing happen? Push the button again? Oh yeah, let me give it a try.” He pushed the button again, and this time he turned the tuner and all the knobs around both ways. Three seconds…two minutes…four…nothing’s happening. “What could have gone wrong? I am sure this is what the shopkeeper told me. Now what is wrong?” There was no ready answer.

Chhuma, his five year old came near to him, and he could see his reflection on the TV screen, and he declared happily, “Daddy, I can see myself on the screen!” At the declaration, the children at the inner circle of the crowd suddenly moved forward to see their reflections on the screen and it got too crowded for comfort in the end and he had to shoo them away instantly.

After a few more tries the proud owner of the picture box, the headman of the village had to admit defeat and he felt humbled and humiliated and he was ready to curse the shopkeeper who took his half year’s salary in exchange of the idiot box which was not working anyway. All his dreams of entertaining the farmers in his farm had come to nothing. Then a thought came to him. “Oh, yes, who but the teacher would know about such a sophisticated piece of equipment?” At the utterance of the teacher’s name, more than five children had already left the house to call him.

There was such a disappointment in the whole village when they learned that the teacher was away to the neighbouring village to negotiate the marriage of one of the villagers. After his humiliating failure, every villager had a good look at the moving picture machine. Some lifted it up, trying to figure out how much it weighed, some turned it upside down, some right side up, some sideways, and it entertained them not only for that night but for many nights to come as everyone talked about either the idiot box, or the idiot who bought the box. And they had more to talk about when the teacher revealed that the picture box needed what he called an electric current, a generator or a wet cell lead acid battery. When the ‘jeepable’ road construction was finally finished five years later, they turned on the picture tube briefly for a night by borrowing the battery from one of the first vehicles that arrived in their village.

As it turned out Mr. Changa was thinking eleven years ahead of his time as the village was electrified only eleven years after he bought the idiot box; long after he migrated to Aizawl, to become a government supplier and contractor with the help of his old friend. Since then he had done a lot of travelling to Assam and West Bengal, and sometimes as far as Amritsar, to get supplies for the government. The job paid well especially when he paid the government Babus well and soon he could afford to buy a car of his choice.

As his driver drove him out of Mizoram Run he reminisced about the past, of the idiot box and the village and it brought a smile on his face. “It’s been twenty five years already, hasn’t it?” he thought to himself and the driver sped off towards the beautiful hills, leaving a trail of dust behind, trying to run away from the heat and humidity of Silchar. “Run, to Mizoram run!” he cheered on from the back of his 2006 Mercedes-Benz B-Class, not realising that it rained the night before in the hills and a landslide near Kolasib had blocked the only road to Aizawl. As he fell asleep at the back of his chauffer driven car, he dreamt of Switzerland and it was beautiful and clean; best of all it was in the hills in the east. Soon he was awakened by the bumpy ride through the pot holes in a fool’s paradise in this west side of Myanmar. They got stranded for two nights and he waited for the road to be cleared, hungry and angry, at the back of his car.

The End Begins

2007-06-09T01:00:00.000-07:00

Silent night, eerie silent night,
A distant sound of a hound's howl;
And a humming mosquito for company
In a hot and humid summer night.

Moonlit night and starry skies,
Vain thoughts of departed angels;
A lonesome soul and his long-distance love,
Pathetic knight in a dimming armour.

Squeaking bed at every toss
Summer silent night in a darkened room
Sleepless night inside a suffocating net
Under the non-spinning ceiling fan.

Cherished pains and relived lives,
That meaningful madness and solid lonesomeness.
Indulgence of man's mind
Over the rose-tinted memories of yesteryears.

A search for misplaced letter in a whole room
Forgotten corners turned upside down.
Hot summer's day and road blockade,
Silent Sunday and no worship.

Joyful melancholies and sweet sorrows
Hazy clear sky and coloured water.
Meaningful vanities and saneful madness,
Here the end begins!

Via Dolorosa

2007-06-08T06:53:00.001-07:00

Jerusalem, Jerusalem!
The city of peace,
What had befallen you?
Why did your children scatter,
and what's the uproar all about?

Your songs of joy and praises
had turned into songs of hatred and war.
The peace that you longed for had left you.
Your battle cry had become
"Crucify him, crucify him!"
Crucify who?

Jerusalem! the apple of God's eye,
My eyes look up to you.
On your streets are the footprints
of my Lord and my Saviour,
the One you crucified.
My Saviour walked through your streets,
Via Dolorosa to Golgotha,
The road to Mount Calvary,
on which the price was paid-
The road to death and crucifixion!

Now let us follow in his footsteps.
Let us go beyond the city walls,
through Via Dolorosa,
the street of suffering
and the street of shame-
To suffer and to die for him,
To die for him who was crucified.

Strangers

2007-06-08T06:50:00.003-07:00

PART I

The day was hot and sunny and he was very thirsty when he arrived at the ticket counter. And there she was, sitting comfortably under the fan. When he asked for a cup of water she pointed him to the water filter at the far corner of the room. He looked over there but saw no cup, and he made it an excuse and she nonchalantly got up and poured out a cup for him and asked, “What can I do for you?”

He took the cup from her hand and gulped it down and handed the cup back to her, asking for more and said, “I have to go to Guwahati tonight and I wonder if I could get a seat.”

“I am sorry sir, the coach is already full tonight, may be you could try other travel companies.”

She was in her late twenties, looking graceful and beautiful and she was wearing a loose blouse and a skirt. As she stood up to pour him more water, he could see her whole body and was surely distracted by her figure.

“That’s exactly what I have been told three or four times today, and I was directed to come to you. Is there no way you could fit me even in the cabin?”

“I don’t think so sir. I have already issued five extras for that and the driver and conductor would have no more passengers inside the cabin.”

Just then a porter came in and said, “There’s a band at Hnahthial because they are not happy with the government for not delivering their promise to them. I think you will have to cancel the bus to Lunglei tonight.”

“Do you mean a Bandh?”

“Yeah, a band.”

“Why did I not read about that in the paper this morning. And why was I not told this long before?” she thought to herself but the manager had not got back yet so she could not really scold the porter who volunteered the message to her. The porter left and the ceiling fans were spinning furiously as if trying to propel the whole building to the sky. The room was deserted except for another porter who was dozing off at the corner. There were some posters on the wall with something about how incredible India was. The room was swept clean but there was a half-smoked cigarette sticking out of the ashtray at the centre of the wooden table.

“Excuse me miss. Everything has been a failure for me today. I applied for a passport three months ago but I could not get it even today. They asked me to come back week after week. I have been invited to go to the States on a very urgent and important business and today I finally decided to go to Guwahati to go to the Regional Passport Office myself. But I have been told of the unavailability of seats counter after counter. Are you sure there is no way I could somehow get on the bus?”

“I am very sorry for your trouble sir. I wish I could help you now, but you will have to come back tomorrow.”

“Are you really sorry for me?”

“Yes I am.”

“Can I request one simple thing from you?”

“Yes you may.”

“Since there’s no other customer here, can we go downstairs and spend just one hour alone together. I will pay you five hundred.”

The girl was taken aback at such a direct approach and was blushing. And she stuttered a little when she spoke to him in anger.

“Sir, please don’t speak to me like that. I am not that kind of girl. Who do you think you are?”

“800?”

“I am not interested in it. Just leave me alone!”

“1,000? Just an hour and we’ll do nothing.”

“So, just because you are going to the States you think you can approach a girl like that? And you think I am not going to find out about someone who has been invited to the States from the local newspaper? I am going to expose you and you are going to be sorry for this!”

She was shaking a little when she vented her anger at him.

“Please calm down and reconsider. I don’t mean to offend you at all. I just want to spend a little time with you. I promise we won't do anything.”

“Please leave before I call the manager.”

She seemed very angry and he turned around and saw a young man entering the ticket counter and then he left the ticket counter slowly. He could feel her angry eyes burning the back of his neck and he smiled at himself for the effect.

As she got calmer she thought of what he said and she found the whole thing somewhat amusing. “That man. That strange man…what…1,000 for nothing? Doing nothing?" she smiled at the absurdity. She had done a lot of nothing with someone for nothing. And there was serious money to be made for nothing and then it was nothing.

He had checked the building thoroughly before he entered the lounge and he knew that there was no downstairs to go to but cliffs. And the fact of the matter was that he was not invited to go to the States, and he did not even need a passport. All he needed was a ticket to Guwahati, not the girl. He has a lovely wife whom he loves. And he could never afford to throw away even a hundred rupees for nothing. He made sure of that- Mr. Chawngthianga has always been very frugal all his life!

PART II

The day was hot because of the scorching sun. The winter had been very long and before Spring actually begun it was already summer and there were not a lot of people on the street because of the heat. A customer left his cigarette burning in the ashtray but the room was swept clean other than that. There were some Incredible India! posters on the wall, and she readied herself to continue her M&B under the fan. Two of the ceiling fans at the lounge area were spinning at top speed and she turned off one of them. Just then a porter came in and asked her where to keep the parcels and she told her to leave them near the cloakroom. He said to her as he was leaving, “There’s a band at Hnahthial because they are not happy with the government for not delivering their promise to them. I think you will have to cancel the bus to Lunglei tonight.”

“Do you mean a Bandh?”

“Yeah, a band.”

She was wondering why the manager did not mention it before he left for home and she stopped herself from venting her frustration at the porter who volunteered the message to her. She put down her book when she saw a young man with a spiky hair approaching the booking counter.The young man had a funny Southern twang and she had seen the likes of him before. He had an air of confidence and she could make out that she had been out of the state for a year or so in the way he behaved and talked.

“May I help you?”

“I really need a ticket to Shillong tonight. If I don’t go tonight I am going to be late for my admission. Please help me get a ticket.”

“I am truly sorry for your trouble but we are already full for tonight. It might be better for you to go to other companies as soon as possible.”

He was wearing a mobile phone on his neck and it was not possible not to recognize that he had one, since he kept on pressing the keys all the time. He appeared to be dialing someone but she could see that he was not dialing anyone at all but pretended to talk on the phone without even taking his leave and he shouted, “Helloooo, Andy, can you hear me? Hellooo?”

And he continued the act to impress her as he said in English, “Please tell Professor Lyngdoh that I will be late for the classes for a few days because I cannot buy a ticket at all. It’s so frustrating, man! Please ask him to forgive me. Thank you Andy. I’ll see you real soon. Real soon, Man!”

She was back to her book when he got back to her, and it started to annoy her like hell.

“Miss, may I ask you one thing?”

“Yes, you may.”

“Are you the one I saw on the Demand Channel last night? Yes, I bet you are the one who sang Myterious Love, Naw?”

“I think you are confusing me with someone else. I am not the one.”

“As if…I am sure you are the one, Naw?”

“No, I am not the one. No.”

He was beginning to see the futility of talking to her as he obviously had not make any great impression on her. His was to miss the obvious things most of the time anyway.

“Can I offer you kwai?”

"Excuse me?"

“Oh, I am so used to saying kwai that I don’t realise I am in Aizawl. I mean do you eat kuhva, can I offer you one?”

“No thanks. I don’t eat betel nuts.”

“Have you ever been to Shillong?”

“No, I have not been there. You won’t believe it, I have not even been to Silchar!”

“It’s a really wonderful place. Very near from here, you should definitely go there one day. And if you ever come I can take you wherever you want to go. I will leave you my phone number.”

“Thanks for your kind offer, but I don’t think I’d go there anytime soon. A pity though.”

“So, you have not been to Silchar? Well, there’s nothing much there anyway. Shillong’s the place to be. That’s where it’s at! Have you been to Champhai?”

“Oh yeah, that’s where my family’s from. We moved here only eight years ago. But we go there once every other year for Christmas and have a family reunion of sorts, with all the cousins and relatives.”

“I see. I have never been there, and I’d really like to go there one day. Anyway, if you ever manage to get to Shillong please look for Michael C. Chhunkiauva, most people would know the name.”

“For sure. I have been meaning to go there, especially since my nieces and nephew are in a boarding school and they always tell me of how beautiful it is there. And my sister left yesterday to be with them for a week and she asked me to fill in for her job here. But I have been too busy, and besides I usually fly direct to Delhi and to stop over at Shillong does not really work out for me.”

Just then a mobile phone rang, and she excused herself as she brought out a mobile phone from her handbag which has a camera of 2.5 megapixels and it quietened him and made him want to hide the one he was wearing in his neck. He left without saying a word.

PART III

The day was very sunny and it was becoming hotter by the day. The phone rang and I put down a copy of Reader’s Digest when I realized that she was not planning to answer the phone. It was him alright. There was no mistaking the fact that he was after something. He has been a friend for a long time, but sometimes because of his eccentricities and his unusual views Jane had some reservation about associating with him too much in public at least.

So I picked him up and drove him all the way to Thuampui even though I had to miss a home cooked lunch as I needed to go back to the office as early as possible.

The travel agency was not so busy during that time of the day and it wore a deserted look except for a young man with a baggy pants, with a cell phone dangling from his neck who was leaving the counter as we entered, and a porter who was dozing off peacefully at one corner of the room, and I kind of envied him for his ability to have a nap in such a place and in such a condition. There was a cigarette butt in the ashtray on the coffee table but the room was quite clean other than that. There were some Incredible India! posters on the wall.

The clerk at the booking counter looked twentyish and she was on her mobile phone. The two ceiling fans were spinning furiously at top speed but I still could hear her voice through the noisy spinning fans.

“How could you withstand all these things day after day?!” she shouted on the phone with a somewhat neutral tone yet with a little bit of excitement.

“…oh yeah, you are married after all. But still then, I would not be able to stand all these impossible people on a day to day basis…” she burst out laughing and she looked up to them who were waiting eagerly to talk to her.

“Come back soon. I don’t think I could handle all these innuendoes too much longer. Give my love to the kids, I’ve got to go. Bye!”

Just then a porter came in and asked her if he should wait for the manager for his payment. She said she would pay him now and asked him how much it was. She took out a fifty rupee note and asked him if he had a ten rupee note. The porter gave her one and she asked her to keep the parcels near the cloakroom and the porter said to her as he was leaving, “There’s a band at Hnahthial because they are not happy with the government for not delivering their promise to them. I think you will have to cancel the bus to Lunglei tonight.”

“Do you mean a Bandh?”

“Yeah, a band.”

And she wondered why the manager had not mentioned that one before and she made a mental note to ask him as soon as he got back after realizing that it was no use to express her anger at the porter who volunteered the message to her.

It was a wonderful view from the window. What people call the Chite River did not look like a river at all but a dying stream instead and I was wondering to myself what would happen to it in a few more years since all the waste of the city on a hill top has nowhere to go as people don’t really care about disposing their waste in a proper manner at a proper place. The picture of the Elora caves on the wall reminded me of the almost disastrous college excursion almost eleven years ago. However, my train of thought was disturbed by my good friend as he nudged me towards the booking counter.

After the porter had left she looked at us, not sure of what to expect and then said finally, “What can I do for you?”

“Where is Zawni today?” I asked her casually.

“She’s in Shillong to be with her kids, and I am filling in for her today. So you know each other then?”

“Yes, she was a college classmate. So, who would you be then?”

“I would be her sister at your service.”

“I made a reservation for one seat for today under the name of Mr. Vaninmawia, please can you check it for us?”

“Vaninmawia, Vaninmawia,” she mumbled to herself as she checked a long list of names for the day’s passengers. Mawia watched her intently and he decided that her mouth was too big, but no, if it were smaller than that she would not be as beautiful as she looked to him then. However, he was not happy with her size; she’s a bit too small!

“Oh yeah, too small? Why do you want her to be bigger than she is now?” he rebuked himself and he had no more doubt that she was a beautiful girl. He laughed with a childish delight as he whispered to me of all his opinion about her. Indeed she looked beautiful and there was a freshness about her which was missing in most of the girls he knew. Most of them were too uptight and too worried about not getting married or getting married but poor. But she was fresh and she was beautiful. He did not want to admit to himself that he wanted to use one word to describe her and yet he did. Yes, in a word she was sexy.

“Could it be V.Mawia of Laipuitlang?” she asked to make sure.

And we said in unison, “That’s the one!”

She smiled and brought out the receipt book and started to fill in for us.

There was a short pause in conversation but it was not long at all; can never be when you have a man like V. Mawia with you for company. Well, this is the man who had seen it all and done it all. He begun to talk about his brush with various celebrities but he never really knew them personally. He was just boasting about them infront of the girl and I could see through his scheme. I remembered at that instant the taxi driver who preached to me of how to best do my job. He knew so much that there was hardly a thing I could add to make his speech any better than it already was. And I was supposed to be the expert in it! This world is full of amazing people really.

There are a lot of people who could preach about corruption and I have read a lot of stuffs in the newspapers about how to best run the state, and how to best be rid of corruption and corrupt officials. But nothing’s happening anyway.

When the girl was ready with the ticket he paid her and I thought we were going to walk away from there but it was not to be. He started asking her the things which must be asked by a man to a sexy girl who was there to be asked things. She was a booking clerk after all. Well, she might not be a permanent one but she was one at least for the day, a public servant at his disposal. He could not get away from such an opportunity which was so aptly presented to him at such a time. And then the questions.

“Are you married?”

“No sir, I am not!” she looked shocked and annoyed.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

She blushed and decided not to answer him and thought to herself, “Not again, please!”

“So, where are you from anyway?”

“Tuikual.”

“Oh, Tuikual? Whereabout in Tuikual? How long have you been there? Were you born there?”

“We came from Champhai about ten years ago.”

“Do you know Pu Kawlthuama, the businessman at Kahrawt Veng?”

“Yes I know him and his family. They are very good family friends. Why do you ask?”

“I know someone who lives next to them? Well, she is my second cousin actually.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Lawmkungi, the wife of Lianhlira. Do you happen to know them?”

“That’s Nu Lawmkungi, my mother’s first cousin.”

“Are you serious? So, is your mother U Sangkimi?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you know me then?”

“No, I don’t think so. Who are you, sir?”

“If you are who you said you are then I am supposed to be your uncle. Call me uncle Mawia. Your mother would be able to tell you more about me.”

At that discovery, important and significant as it was, he lost all his enthusiasm to carry on with the conversation and he signaled me to leave the place and I promptly suggested that we’d leave. He was quick to agree and we left immediately. He did not look back at the girl, who was not to be considered sexy anymore after the revelation.

“You must be very happy to discover your little niece there. She’s a lovely lass for sure.”

He sneered at me and kept quiet most of the time till I dropped him off at Chaltlang. That was the last I see of him during the whole year.

Musings on Craps

2007-06-08T06:50:00.001-07:00

(After many people have read of this account in Laisuih (circa 2002), I am posting it here again, dear Blogophilus, for your perusal and pleasure. May you find it edited and more palatable to your excellent taste).

It's Friday the 13th for a Holden Caulfield kinda crap. I love it. I mean I love the book if you really want to know the truth. I love it when someone like Salinger writes a book with a crap like Holden Caulfield in it. I have had a helluva time reading it. It killed me.

That day's one of the most forgettable days of my life, not because that it was Friday the 13th and all. I don't believe in that kind of crap. I am not that superstitious. I find it so funny, ridiculous rather, when the scientific and seemingly rational western minds are still so mindful of doing certain things on Friday the 13th. It's so unreasonable to let your mind governed by insignificant things like a black cat crossing your path, or walking under the ladder, or why do you need to touch wood when talking about your future at all, etc, etc. It's all crap.

That day was forgettable for the simple fact that I happened to meet old Vanhlena, an old acquaintance I can do away with. He's the phoniest guy you've ever known. He's not ugly or anything like that. He's fair and quite handsome too, I must admit. He always looks like he just had a bath. He looks fresh and all. Fact is, he never bathe himself. He just washed the parts which were supposed to be showing outside his clothes. And he just sprayed deodorants and perfumes all over his body and his clothes. I have seen him done that more than once. He always talks in a sophisticated way, very phony, a Mr. Know-it-all. Scratch the surface and you find that he knows nothing at all. He just acts like he knows. He sounds intelligent, hi-fi and all when he's nothing like that. He's a fake. He wears good clothes- clothes that last for a hundred
years, everlasting clothes. He has been wearing them since I first met him 50 years ago.

He saw me loitering in the volleyball court, and when I saw him too there was no escaping him. So, I thought I might as well endure his phony ways for the last time, once and for all. I don't fancy too much of putting up with him anyway. He's damn polite, over-polite, in fact. That's one of his lousy traits that drives me mad every time we meet. He seemed pleased to locate me since he had that wide smile on his face. A smile way too wide it caused his eyes to close down. He had a piece of paper in his hand. And he read what was written on it, aloud, after he said his phony polite 'hi' to me.

Chhinlung is a big stone which is used for sealing the mouth of a cave in China. It is much like the stone that the angel rolled away from Jesus' tomb. (Some say an angel, some say an earthquake. I'm not too sure). It was a stone in China, anyway. There was this big cave in China from where the ancestors of the Mizos were supposed to have originated. Some of them were prevented from coming out of the cave by sealing the mouth with a big stone. That big stone is called chhinlung.

'Did you write this?' he laughed at me.

'The handwriting looks familiar to me,' I quipped, fearing for the worst.

'Did you write it?' he asked me in a mockingly loud tone.

I wasn't deaf or anything and he needn't had raised his voice. I hate it when some lousy pervert like Vanhlena shouted at me.

'The handwriting is very similar to mine. Where did you get it from?’

'Did you write it?' he asked again for the hundredth time.

It annoyed the hell out of me when a phony guy like Vanhlena asked me the same lousy question for a hundred times. It really did.

'Yes, I wrote that,' I said with a tone of finality.

Well, there was this one Assamese guy named Ashok, a Research Scholar, staying at the Chhinlung Halls of Residence (NEHU, Shillong). He had wanted to know the etymology of the Mizo word chhinlung, and had asked me about it. I had promised to do a little research for him, but I was too busy and too lazy to read any book on it. I finally wrote that darn thing for him after he had asked me for about a hundred times. I wrote that thing for him, for him alone, not for a gossip-monger like Vanhlena. I had no idea how it ever got into his lousy hands.

'It's grand. Just grand,' he laughed.

Grand. I hate that word so much. It sounds so phony, just like him.

'What's so grand about it anyway?' I asked in annoyance.

'Boy, you seem to know so much of the Mizo History, especially about chhinlung. That's simply grand.'

Grand, my foot! Then he brought out another piece of paper from his pocket. The lousy back pocket of his hundred year old pant. He read it aloud again when he didn't need to be so loud at all. I wasn't deaf or anything like that. My perception is quite good. If I am with, say, a hundred people, I would be the one who perceives the sound of a pin dropping down the floor. I am not deaf, believe me. But he read it aloud anyway.

Sensiar is a beautiful bright red flower which grows only in Mizoram in the very remote past. The bright red colour of the flower is so distinct that it has magical powers. If anyone possessed the flower he could make anyone fall for him no matter how ugly or poor he is. Sometimes a fine powder is extracted from the sensiar flower, and it is used as a cure-for-all medicine. It is said to be good for treating cancer and AIDS. The scientific name of the flower is Sensiara indica. Effort is on to cultivate the flower in every part of Mizoram in a large scale.

'You wrote this too, I bet. Would you mind me asking who it is for?'

He's always mocking me, the sonofagun.

'Yes, I did write that! Yes, I wrote it for Zomawii. She needed it for her valedictory speech in the Sensiar Halls of Residence. What is that to you anyway?'

He laughed like a hyena. The phony guy. He laughed so hard he shed his tears, and he shook
like a mad man. The lousy guy.

'You are a very good writer, a great Historian, in fact. That was an eye-opener for me. It truly was. You know so much about sensiar. And you wrote it for Zomawii, you say? Why didn’t she write it herself? She’s a Mizo, and she should know, the
promiscuous girl!'

'She's a Mizo, yes! But she does not know a thing about sensiar. So I just did her a favour, and I helped out a damsel in distress, okay. Now, come off it!'

'She's no good damsel in distress. She's a flirt, and she's promiscuous. That's the truth. She had flirted with every other guy in this damn hostel,' he complained.

I smelled blood at that remark, and I wasn’t one to let it pass by when I got the chance. So, I cornered him with this question.

'Well then, If she were to flirt with you, or act promiscuous with you, what would you think of her then?'

Zomawii's a very comely girl. She's good, really, she's very beautiful. And I was sure that a lousy pervert like Vanhlena wouldn't be able to resist her for long if she should give the green signal, or made her advances at him. It quietened him. Then, I asked again.

'If Zomawii were to flirt with you, or act promiscuous with you, how would you think of her then?'

He just gaped at me. He was speechless.

'C'mon, what would you think of her then?'

I caught a glimpse of it coming with the side of my right eye but it was too fast that I couldn't escape it. His big fist landed on my right cheek. He was mad at me for asking him too good a question. Good question, no answer. He's a mad dog. I was forced to step back, and my cheek hurt like hell.

'What's that for, c'mon, what the hell is that for?'

I shouted at him like mad. I had wanted to hit him back then. To devour him, to teach him a lesson. But I didn't. I wasn't yellow or anything, believe me. I was trying hard to restrain myself. And then the hostellers started to come out of their rooms to see what was the matter.

Vanhlena left without a word. I had wanted to call him back then. To let him kneel infront of me, and to let him apologize. But I didn’t. I wasn’t yellow though, believe me. I was just restraining. The others started to gather around me and I soon found myself in the middle of a big crowd. Then I felt my nose running, and I wiped it with the back of my hand. Blood. Blood! My nose was bleeding.

I didn't know why she happened to be there. But Zomawii was there in the crowd. She came over to me and took out her hanky and started to wipe my bloody nose clean with everyone watching us and all. Her hand felt so smooth and her hanky smelled so good. I don't know much about Ladies' perfumes, never did, but I was sure it was one of those expensive foreign perfumes. She wiped me clean with her hanky. Chemistry! The chemistry between us was so strong, at least half of the crowd could feel it, I was sure.

'What was the fight all about?'

She asked me in a trembling voice, full of concern.

'It's not important. It's just one of those guys' things.'

I was trying to act tough, virile and all, but she would've none of it.

'No, it's important to me.'

It's important to her! Her voice was so sweet, so vulnerable, so full of concern for me, you see, it melted my heart. Then I told her, I had to.

'I was trying to save your ass here. I was trying to protect your reputation.'

'Oh, really, how was that?'

She got interested as hell even as she nursed my wound, wiping me with her foreign perfumed hanky. And the guys looked on at us with envious eyes. They were dying to be in my place. It killed me.

'He said you were a flirt, promiscuous and all. I wouldn't agree with him. I hated that with all my heart, and I countered him. That's it.'

She turned all red out of anger. But still she looked beautiful. I loved her, almost, then. The strange thing about beautiful girls is that they still look beautiful even when they are angry, or sad, or happy. The problem with us is that we always look the same, ugly, no matter how we feel.

'That sonofagun! I am going to teach him a lesson, I swear!'

And then she held me by the arm and accompanied me to my room while all the guys looked on with those popping eyes of envy. I almost felt like giving my heartfelt thanks to Vanhlena for giving me that big hit. It didn't come without a prize. If it's always going to end like this, with Zomawii nursing me, holding me, and accompanying me to my room with all those hungry eyes staring at us, then I don't mind staging another fight with a phony guy like Vanhlena at all. That's all I am going to tell you for now about that day.

My fight with Vanhlena, and Zomawii's nursing me afterwards became the hottest topic in every
conversation. It became the talk of the Campus for the whole damn semester. I didn't know why. I just didn't understand. After a little while everyone knew more about that fight than I did. And they soon said that Zomawii and I were true lovers while Zomawii and I never knew about that love affair between us. We didn't even see each other for that matter. Everyone said that we were more like man and wife, having a live-in relationship and all. Fact was very different though. Zomawii had her own boyfriends, not I, which she kept on changing every other month. And I never had any girl. People talked, you know, especially those campus crowd. It annoyed the hell out of me. It’s total murder. The murderers. We were included in every gossip, and in the end I almost came to believe what they said about me. The gossip-mongers! There simply was no entertainment other than to gossip about people having fights, falling in love and all those stuffs. It was so suffocating. But that was their mentality. You can’t change them overnight even if you try as hard as I did.

It's been some years now, and I kind of miss all the people I just told you about. I shouldn't have told you about all these craps. It made me feel bad all over again. Anyway, they are not here anymore. Vanhlena is somewhere in the highlands now, doing what he does best - winning over phony people with his phony ways, the deceiver. It suits him fine. I kind of miss him in a way. I wonder if he still wears his everlasting clothes. I am dying to know that. Old FH's learning the art of flirting with teenage schoolgirls in the school he is working now. He has not succeeded so far. Zomawii still looks young inspite of her age. She's a grandma now at least by her age. She still flirts around a lot but never with Vanhlena, the lousy pervert, nor with me. That's unlucky in a way. Most of the Mizo students still don't know much about the true meaning of chhinlung or sensiar, they are not too interested in their roots at all. The Campus crowd still gossips a lot, or so I heard. And I remain, a Holden Caulfield kinda crap, having a helluva time musing over all these craps, and waiting for Godot. Hope? And there are still some hypocrites who are hoping that some promiscuous girls would focus their attention on them, and would misbehave with them. It kills me.

Through Calvary

2007-06-08T06:49:00.001-07:00

When birds flew
to their nests
at dusk.
When foxes stole
to their holes
to rest.
When squirrels picked
the last of the nuts.
When deer lie down
to lick the frost
from their coats.
When labourers
left their fields
for homes
in a winter's eve.

Then I, met a man,
a stranger from
Judean hills,
in the cool colonnade
of swaying trees at dusk.

He struggled
step by step,
under the heavy load
of a wooden cross.

"What," I queried,
"is that for?"
"My Master," said he,
"bid me come
and follow Him.
This cross
I carry,
and walk in His steps."

'Twas a moonlit night
and he moved on
under the starry skies.
The clouds arrived
to dim the light.

"I must die," said he,
"to have life,
abundant life,
eternal life."

The night turned
into day.
A day

of bright sunshine,
of clouds and rains,
of all seasons.

He neared his death
day by day.
He left his dreams,
one by one.
And he moved on
to die his death,
towards his home
through Calvary.

I am in your hands

2007-06-08T06:48:00.000-07:00

When you devised the minutest block of my life,
When you ordained my coming to life;
And when you finally created me as a being
I know I was in your hands.

When you consecrated the womb that conceived me,
When you instituted the home where I should grow;
And when you decreed the life I should live
I know I was in your hands.

When you let me grow before your eyes,
When you fed me manna for growth;
And when you taught me how to live life
I know I was in your hands.

When you provided me the things I love,
When you granted me my heart's desire;
And when you took away the things I love
I know I was in your hands.

When you let me bleed from my wounds,
When you let me be when I suffer;
And when I rebelled before you like a beast
I know you sustained me.

When I tried to hide myself in sin,
When you patiently waited for me;
And when you never rebuked me in your anger
I know you loved me most.

When you took me to Mount Calvary,
When you opened my eyes to see the cross;
And when you showed me your nail-pierced hands,
I know you died for me.

Now why do I feel this peace inside,
In the midst of life's twists and turns,
With the seemingly dark and gloomy future?
I am not afraid of the coming storm
Because I am in your hands.

My Lord and my Saviour,
I love you,
Because you loved me first.
I am ignorant and foolish,
Direct my path and lead me in the way
That is everlasting.
Amen.