lee’s bamboo basket

Once a while, when the winds caress the leaves and the first rains fall to make excited dusts settle down. The streets are filled with small school children. Little Einsteins and Newtons playing in the puddles, trying to get wet in the rain so they can complain of wet school uniforms and school shoes at home and stay away from school the day after. Inspiration overwhelms the mind bringing back memories - memories of moments when life was all about eye-spy, lock and keys, flying kites… and paper airplanes. Days when life took its flight up a multi-coloured sky on wings of innocent dreams, drawing carefree smiles out of carefree hearts on an innocent carefree childhood. When every moment past was cherished, every moment; lived and the moment to come; thirst. The economics of time was all about maximizing fun. Time had its way and then, the little wizard in us would conspire on creative ways of working out time from the most congesting of schedules for fun, sometimes to the extent of making somebody with a stick to beat the dirt off of your pants while you’re still wearing them.

Days ended with soft pats on the shoulder that made us look up and walk tall as if we had the world in our pockets, or kisses and hugs that instantaneously transformed us to angels looking through innocent bright eyes as if we have never broken the neighbour’s windowpane. Bad days were marked with an overdose of fun resulting in, more than never, bruises, fights and tears. In the gravity of it all, things get complicated when mother comes up with a little something of a spontaneous lecture with or sometimes without a spanking or two, and a bath with hard and thorough scrubbing to wash off the dirt of the day.

Past are the days when we lived life as children, when we looked at the world through the mischievous eyes of an innocent child. Days of time or times when papers were for airplanes and kites, and chalks were to be thrown at your friend just as the English or Mathematics teacher was writing something on the blackboard. Home was haven from the BODMASes, Robert Louis Stevensons, the Parts of Speeches, and CO2s and O2s of school, and school was haven from the chores, home works and annoying neighbours of home.

Gone were days when girls were to be chased around and made fun of and empty bottles and cans, wooden blocks and sticks, and bits and pieces of somebody’s rubbish were to be magically transformed into cars and bikes, laser guns and stuff that the world has never heard of. A time when, a simple stick became a bike transformable at the push of an invisible button into a space ship, or a jet armed with crazy weapons that could take down all the bad guys in the world; crazy technology straight out of crazy little brains, cheap and powerful, only a little too crazy to be practical. Life straight out of Calvin’s exploits in his comic strip world.

Childhood had its contribution of twist and turns but, a look from a higher stance makes it all wholesome and beautiful and valued. Memories of which, sometimes invoke the child in us we thought we have outgrown. No wonder there is always a tendency to become silly and boil up silly little things that make us look like, grown-up-kids invoking passionate spontaneous outbursts that liven up the little world around us which can sometimes also have a very irritating bent.

Boys became young men and girls became chicks and they still get chased but, not anymore for innocent mockeries but for flings and things evoking motional and emotional complicacies far more complicated than complication itself.

Tomorrow never came, but, time silently kept on slipping away, rendering changes and weighing responsibilities down on us while we take one-little-slow-steps with dreams and ambitions that are no more inspirations from some happy-ever-after-ending-fairy-tale. Yesterdays went by leaving an invisible trail of moments somewhere deep inside only to be forgotten. Moments to be looked back to, maybe, when the rains start to fall and the evenings are painted a golden-red in the sunset.

And I shall have peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

W. B. Yeats -The Lake Isle of Innisfree

Tagging along as one of the 13 member HSA team (on Education Survey and Tipaimukh Dam Awareness) to the villages of Hmarbiel and Vangai in Tipaimukh Sub-Div. (Manipur) was an experience of a lifetime (I should say). I sure was aware that reading odd publications and magazines in the comfort of home could feed me with everything I needed and wanted to know and learn but, that would also make me a step closer to my becoming of the hypocrite who will make cultural meets and the HSA assemblies a R&D Lab for his theories.

I was a wee bit reluctant to come to a decision when Zarzosang Varte a friend and fellow member and Lalthlamuon Hmar (Gen. Secretary, HSA Gen. Headquarters) rang me up for my confirmation. It seems you get less decisive when your limitations are bounded by the amount of disposable financial reserve you have. I had to decide whether I go to Kolkata to buy the Canon EOS 400D digital SLR I saved for or join the trip and spend some money which would make me a couple of hundreds short on my budgeted reserve for the camera. Let me tell you, it was quite a difficult situation for a guy who just barely manages to support himself. The thirst for adventure must have been stronger; a Sagittarian that I am or was it my roots that compelled me to join the team, I’m not sure, but I admit that life couldn’t have been better stalling it by a few days doing something which fuels the little boy that still lingers in me and inspires the being that I am.

From the busy streets of Shillong to these little humble hamlets of serenity which will surely be mistaken as paradise by some; but I have reasons to believe that this is where the heavens meet a lowly chaotic world. The trip took me right into the cradle of Nature and I was overwhelmed and I felt Peace but it sure comes slow, maybe because you have to shed all that seemingly cultured sophistication you get to acquire with that distinction of being a city-bred.

Ever so slowly you soak in and absorb the beauty that lies bare and let Nature do its work— I thought I stretched my arms, held up my head, closed my eyes and took in everything I could. I breathe in like I have never breathed before and I just somehow thought I felt Peace - I touched it! I opened my eyes and wondered why the word exotic always lingers in my mind. I took another breath and I’m sure I could feel the fragrance. I could smell and feel the forest, the green leaves, and the dew drops collecting on the lower ones and falling down dampening the earth below. There was this warmth which gradually embraced me and when I opened my eyes again I realized I was already under the influence of a seduction.

I was tempted. I couldn’t resist the seduction and gave in and felt the wonder. The wonder of just being there, to feel what I felt and to be deeply inspired by the wonder of God’s creation. I looked around and it was inexplicably beautiful. I closed my eyes and it was again blissful and exhilarating. I sobered up with practicality to what we have done and my heart ached and all I could feel was an excruciating pain creeping up from the same thing that gave me the wonders and I was not the only one. We wept! Tears didn’t fall but our hearts drowned in it. Schools were no more schools but neglect and irresponsibility created in them shelters for cows and goats. The litter was not papers and pieces of chalk but dung and dirt. Giggles and laughter had been stolen from the faces of innocent children and their futures lost to selfishness and greed. Teachers don’t create minds anymore, they sit in the comfort of home somewhere in the towns and cities and earn a living out of it. Negligence and ignorance, both shoved education to the depths of a vague presence and we remain in a comparatively dark world of our own. Worst, politicians who could at least have some influence over the augmentation of these communities share with them a very slim relationship of being their vote buyers. ‘My people…’ may as well be the most popular first liners followed by very compelling promises that are always meant to be broken! Can the politicians alone be held responsible? After all the votes which elected them were bought when people are gullible enough to give their franchise away for a meager sum. Then, the story lengthens to include us, the onlookers who just don’t give a damn but can we be blamed then? After all we carry our own responsibilities and have our share of woes to attend to.

Our thinkers and philosophers have remained thinkers and philosophers who only managed to confine us in a small sphere of ‘you’ and ‘me’, ‘us’ and ‘them’. Limited narrow perspectives shunned the broader ideal of ‘We’ trimming us down to Attitudes and Egos.

Are we a community on the move, a community on the go? As individuals? Yes! As a collective of individuals; a community? I’m not so sure.

We have lost the very intricate traditional cultural sentiments that bonded and created communities to westernization and modernity and yet, in this relatively modern society of ours we have lost or deviated from nurturing the ingredients for growth and we have certainly failed. In this wriggling existence of ours, whether a Hmar, Lushei or whatever, Tlawmgaina seems to be observed only for the sake of it and not anymore because of the feeling of being responsible and accountable to the society or community. We have certainly deviated. Where do we stand and where do we go from here? What is the solution? I don’t know and I don’t posses the least courage to say that a solution exists and I’ll find it but, I do sincerely believe that each of us can do something (not necessarily financial) and bring about a change.

(a documentary)
lienthanglur khawzawl

(A glimpse of the spectacularly contrasting differences we lead within our characteristic state of existence and an attempt in tracing our divergent animated expressions of being alive.)

“Breaking News” The TV flashes its audio-visual version of front-paging. A tagline for straight from the pot, steaming news on political scandals, odd celebrity stunts in a desperate attempt to publicity or the tragic case of perfect equality put into practice by fanatical suicide bombings and other shock provoking stories from here and there. Newspapers front-page the hottest news in an attempt to capture the curiosity of the people with a primarily planned strategic rule of catchy headlines to boost sales which, on the other hand proves to be a very efficient medium in updating our information.

We are constantly bombarded with news from every corner of the world. We read, we watch and discuss, dissect and analyze. We look into news about terrorism, murders, military coups, elections, new inventions and innovations, million-dollar birthday bashes and all information that passes the ‘interesting enough’ test for reporting in the news bulletin. When two planes went down the World Trade Centre and TV news channels and papers reported the terrorist strikes, the world was shocked bewildered by the inhumanity of it all. For the onlooker it looked as though human values had been reduced to nothing but dirt to be trampled upon. Surely, the world wouldn’t lack revelers on humanity’s humiliations. In the height of the disruption some might have celebrated a success but the rest of the world was veiled in shock and sadness.

A new day starts for some with hectic schedules, for some there’s lots to look forward to while others get down sad wondering for something remarkable to happen.

The morning is a hustle-bustle of activities if we don’t laze around drooling over pleasant dreams of dreamy dream-come-trues. We are our own cartographers to our productivity. From the blue-collared to the white-collared, the mom to dad, the kindergartener to the collegian, the junky to the funky… it’s all about life, in our own style, pace, ideologies and philosophies… trying to keep up with life or at least flow with the flow. Some still lag behind almost sweating blood in the realization of what is considered the basic necessities of life. Neglected or just fate doing its round?

The optimist’s silver lining in the clouds to the one who thinks life is a road of thorns or the milder life is not a bed of roses. Of rush hours and exasperating traffic jams. Some stay calm and patient, confident that it will open up, something will come up. Some get pissed and bang the head in desperation. But, who knows of what will happen to the roadside musician strumming his old trusty guitar? He makes music from his heart, sweet music, not commercial. Who could say with certainty that he won’t make it? Or for that matter who could plainly deny the fact that he could someday go platinum. It depends.

Of artistic liberalization in the form of graffiti, either to speak out or endorse, extending to ridiculous endorsements of I-will-do-this-and-that blood-sucking or rather, power hungry opportunistic politicians. Provocative product hoardings: the elegantly catchy to the witty ones speaking in silence discretely asking the people to buy.

The busy junction crammed with innovative contraption of maneuverable, engined and fueled alternatives for walking called cars. The traffic policeman waving his hands in a frantic dance of you go… you stop!

People walking pass or rather thoughts whizzing pass highlighted by diversely expressed feelings. Whether it’s the ordinary graded or the highly classed classy-million-dollar-beings life is still life though on a level above each other. Life is expressive through our thoughts, emotions and actions. Life is everything from the school kid who just graduated from school looking forward to bunkable college classes to celebrity merry-go-round of marriages.

Wow! An energetic compliment to a beautifully molded form walking pass with all the bumps and curves at the appropriate places; a woman with a high oomph-value!

Men making passes to women or the other way around or of cute clean flirts to frenzied fast romances, all the way to ‘It’s a Heartache’ breakups; smiles to tears while some do end up happily ever after with a little of the nags or the first person and second person or third person addresses laced with a little bit of heightened temper.

People rushing to catch time lest they get late; school, hospital, the deal, a date, office, the train, flight… rushes as if they are running against time or time is running against them.

The sky darkens; people outside look up, people inside look outside and then at each other as if everyone is thinking, what’s happening? Like it has never rained before. People take to the streets, some shop-jumping, hiding from the rain trying not to get drenched. Some sharing an umbrella because the other had forgotten one whiles the fortunate ones or so it seems, cuddle together under one, walking in the rain making love out of wet clothes. The cheerful ones don’t hide; they play in the rain.

The busy scene of the market place littered with people buying and selling, elegant shopping malls with smartly dressed sales executives and roadside hawkers shouting, advertising their wares in funny distracting pitchy voices.

No… I want that one. The salesman’s lure works, the hook has been swallowed. The kid cries frantically pulling his mother’s arm trying to make her buy - tempt-the-kid-to-make-the-mother-buy kind of strategic marketing: potential exploitation through psychological capitalization or rather exploitative entrepreneurism.

Victims of war, stranded in desolation and despair, living in a confused state of being: unable to even comprehend the reality of a conscious state of being.

We cry and shed tears of joy and sadness, we laugh, we get lost in thoughts, we have fun, work, learn, study, struggle… all, not necessarily consequences of emotional up-swings and down-swings, but consequences or not everything sums up to the characteristics of life.

The whole world is a stage and all the people are actors… so says Shakespeare. Well, it sure is a stage and we act on it, just that there is no script to go through and pre-written dialogues to say. Thoughts come up provoking emotions, making us do things, either staying put or making the move. Life is diversified, not only because we speak in languages and we come from different parts with different cultures, customs and practices. One other thing that stands out in common and diversifies life is our perceptive differences and diversely animated expressions out of being alive and experiencing life.

NB: This post is the supporting script, story for my documentary on life which I am still working on. The writing has no form or structure just like the spotaneity of life in its various forms of emotions and expressions; if you take an imaginative bird’s eye view of it. I had intentionally used the tiltle ‘Untitled’ because one, it kind of adds a little extra something to the whole story and two, because I could not come out with an appropriate title. I used the title ‘TODAY; in life” before I changed it to ‘Untitled’.