Masi Bazar

Naupan laia Krismas kan nghahhlelh em em nachhan chu kawr thar neih kha a ni. December thla a lo thlen chuan Krismas card in thawn leh kawr thar inensak reng reng hian hun kan hmang a. Bawng talh tur en leh chaw pek sek pawh a la awm tak! Kan la naupan zual lai kha chuan tlang thing phurh kha an la ti thin a, naupang ho kha kan kal ve ringawt zel a, kan lo ninawm thei ngawt ang.

Aizawl Masi bazar tih sawi a rilru a lo lang hmasa ber chu bazar tawt hi a ni, kha i mitthla in i hmuh nghal ringawt kha... lu hliiir lu hliiir a ni mai tiraw? A tawt lutuk hi kan duhzawng pawh kan lei hlei thei lo a, mipui hian min nekna lam lamah kan kal vel mai mai a; pheikhawk lei tum kha a chang leh theiden kan lei a, kawrlum lei tum khan ringworm leh thek damdawi kan lei a, secondhand thin tum khan chow artui chhipchhuan te kan han ei leh ang lawp lawp a, chutih laiin kawnghren lei dawn lai laiin SIM card nung sa kan han lei leh ang bawk a. Chutiang vel chu a ni.

Pickpocket te hi an lo tam tawh khawp a ni awm a, fimkhur tur hian Market thuneitute an au dup dup reng a. TV news ah khan kumin chhung ringawt ah cheng nuai riat chuang bo angin an lo report tawh a ni awm e. Kal pah hian bag hi kan veng run mai a, ka bag zipper hi an lo hawng ru palh ang tih hlau reng reng hian kan dap ruk ruk reng bawk a. Chutih lai in a tlangpuiin mi hi kan la rinawm niin ka hria a, dawr neituten an dawrtute phone theihnghilh pe tura um vau vau te ka hmu nawk mai. Millenium Centre ah pawh loudspeaker ah dawra an thil lei an theihnghilh thu an au lauh lauh.

Kum la rei vaklo ah kha chuan thil zuar te au hi a nuihzatthlak thei hle thin. A then an lo zai thul, kal pah hian kan nui vur thin. Zion Street chhuk thla cassette dawr velah te khan hla thar hrang hrang hi an play chuah chuah bawk thin a, tunah chuan chutiang chu hriat tur a awm ta meuh lo. Sumdawng te pawh an au peih tawhlo a, an aw an record a an play tawh mai a ni. Dawr pakhat chuan tlangval pakhat hi mic in an autir lauh lauh a, tlai lam a lo nih kha chuan a thiante nen khan uluk lutuk te khan an zai tawh vel a; nuam chu kan ti tlang e.

Krismas tih leh thil thar neih tih hi a inzawm tlat tawh a. Thla a sik dek dek tawh hi chuan secondhand thin tur te hi a tam nghal em em ringawt mai a, kawngsir hmun tinah a inbang kur lek luk a, veng kil tinah hmuh tur a awm a, mamawh lem loh hi kan lei leh chiam thin. December thla tir lamah bungraw hlui tihral duh sale an han nei a, thil tha lei tur a awmlo duk a. Thil tha duh chuan sumdawng ho bazar lo haw nghah a ngai a, a man a to dawn tih kan hre reng si, han lei mai tur awm thin si lo, a buaithlak thei teh e. Krismas a lo hnai a mamawh hi kan ngah thar ta thut emaw tih tur hian kan bazar vak vak a, a Krismas ni tak chu a rei lovin kan hman dan leh kan inbuatsaih dan chu a inmil leh em em lawi si lo. Kan inlei vak vak a, in kan chei a, khawlai kan chei a, a hnu lawkah "Krismas hi a ho tawh e" tiin kan phun kan phun leh a. A ti ho tu chu keimahni lek hi kan ni si a. Kan hman dan hi kumtin a ngai a, kumtin a ho kan ti a, hman dan thlak chu kan tum der si lo.

A ho tih sawi takah chuan, mi tupawhin kan sawi vek chu kan naupan laia Krismas nawm theih bik zia kha a nia, mahse khatih laia upa deuh te khan nuam kan tih em em kha ho an lo ti viau maithei a. Tuna ho kan tih em em te hi naupang te chuan nuam an lo ti viau maithei bawk a. Chutiang mai mai chu a ni khawvel chu.

Midnight Fright

Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong.

What’s that sound? Oh it is the church bell. What time is it anyway?

Found my phone, oh dear it is bright. 3 AM. Who would ring a church bell at three in the morning? Then I knew that someone must have died. I was also thirsty, very thirsty.

I got up, and flicked the light switch. Nothing happened. Switched it again three times, still nothing. Did we always have a power cut in the middle of the night? I never stayed up this late so I wouldn’t know. I reached for my phone, when suddenly the church bell rang again. I dropped my phone in shock, and it fell into pieces.

Well, I thought, now I have to grope in the dark towards the kitchen and find a candle. I cannot possibly reassemble my phone in the dark. So I slowly made my way forward, and it was just my luck that a waning moon was throwing some light through the kitchen window. I had moved only a few inches when I saw that the house was in complete disarray. It was a sight that immediately sent shivers through me.

Just before me, on the floor, was an arm! It had been removed at the shoulder (dislocated is the word I'm looking for), and from the looks of it it must have been separated from its body for many days. I turned away in disgust, and then I stepped on a cloth. With shaking fingers I picked it up, and discovered it was a dress, very worn and torn, obviously belonging to a little girl.

What to do next? I was nowhere near to my destination, the cabinet where candles were kept. I couldn’t move any faster, because the kitchen floor was littered with teacups and plates and pans. And what is a tyre doing on the kitchen table? Who had left it there?

 I stepped carefully, and was just about to open the kitchen cabinet when my feet touched something cold and sticky. Now what could that be? Who had visited us and left behind all this mess?

Whatever the answer was, I had to have some light first. I found the candles, lit the first one, and then the lights came on.

I drank the water. Then with a weary sigh I started picking up the children’s things. The Barbie’s arm, the tiny tea-set, the wheels of the bicycle, and the doll’s dress.  Two energetic little girls can really drain an aunt’s energy, were my last thoughts before I drifted off to sleep.

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time I had this strange habit of washing my clothes at two in the morning. I was not mentally deranged or anything, it was just that I worked the night shift those days and 2 AM on a weekend was not that late for me. A few years later one of my old roommates would often ask if I still had that habit.

Once upon a time I was so thin that my collarbones stuck out. We had a school T-shirt which we have to wear once a week (but it was not compulsory). I rarely wore it, instead went for the normal shirt+tie, which I believed hid my collarbones.

Once upon a time my friends and I went to see a Star Wars movie and all of us fell asleep at the theatre. I think they were showing The Phantom Menace then.

Once upon a time at Christmas a friend and I pinched and elbowed ourselves all through the service because the preacher could not pronounce Christmas, and instead said “Hri-ma”.

Once upon a time a friend borrowed one rupee from me and I did not let her forget it.

Once upon a time my hostel roommate and I buried ourselves under the blanket, shaking with laughter. We found it funny that a fat roommate named Hema was oblivious to the fact that we called her Mahe behind her back and made jokes about her size.

Once upon a time I believed that all stories begin with “Once upon a time”.

Once upon a time I would read books before sleeping. Now I update myself with what my friends and their friends are doing and then go to sleep.

Once upon a time my friends and I packed ourselves in a friend’s car and went for a ride, singing many songs, out of which the only song I can remember now is “Baby you can drive my car”.

Once upon a time a friend and I would pretend that we were giants who lived in a snow-filled world.

Once upon a time I could sit down and without trying very hard write a blog post in 1, 2, 3.

Once upon a time a friend and I went searching for “Badam Ghar” (we were told that was the name). Turned out the actual name was Almond House (it was a sweet shop).

Once upon a time I could never make new friends easily. Things haven’t changed much.

Once upon a time I bought a lot of books which looked interesting. Many of them remain unread.

Once upon a time I decided I would be a great novelist and started a serial-type story in a new blog. Long story short, serial remains unfinished, writer busy with other things. (Also she ran out of ideas and was too lazy to pick up where she left).

Vanity Card

CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #328

They weren't not in love. It's just that the subject, as such, never really came up. It kind of loomed over them like a blissfully stupid cloud. The love cloud

                              Guaranteed to rain on your brain, 'til you're
                              moanin' with seratonin

Maybe what was happening was that they were in love with the idea of being in love. But that's still love right? Instead of loving each other they loved an idea. An aspiration. A wish. The other person was more or less of an afterthought. Somewhat expendable, or at the very least, interchangeable.

                               I love that you make me feel like I'm in love.
                              You, on the other hand, I can take or 
                               leave.

Of course, it was just a matter of time before the truth of each other, the hard fact of their unique selfness, their one-of-a-kind snow-flakiness, became unavoidable.

                               I may be a broken toy but you are a 
                              Chinese crib factory that uses lead paint.

 Saying goodbye in these circumstances is always very awkward.

                              "I just had your car towed."
                              "That's okay, those Flip videos I said I erased
                               are now on the Internet."

Outs

• Phone bill
• Power bill
• Water Bill
• Internet Bill
• Kohhran thawhlawm ip
• KTP thawhlawm ip
• Kohhran hmeichhe thawhlawm ip
• Ramthar
• Faith Promise
• LPS
• Zonet
• Vanglaini
• Zozam Times
• Times of India
• Makedonia
• Zalen
• Zanlai Au Aw
• Hriselna
• Kristian Thalai
• Agape
• Runlum
• MUP Tlangau
• Consumer Chhantu
• Civil Pensioner
• YMA chanchinbu
• Petrol

Tutorial: How to kill a mosquito while half asleep

Scenario One:  You are in bed, safe inside a mosquito net, or so you thought. You discover that an overzealous mosquito is trapped inside and is now flying around. You know you are going to be victimised sooner or later.

Solution: Switch on your mobile phone. The mosquito will be attracted by the light and will land on your mobile screen, at which point you will easily squash it and sleep peacefully.

Scenario Two:  You are asleep, and are woken by a mosquito buzzing around your head. You know that the fellow is going to attack you.

Solution: Cover yourself completely, except for the face and one hand. Keep your hand close to the face. Mosquito will land somewhere on your face, with lightning reflexes you hit it and sleep peacefully. If you miss it, you will have slapped yourself unnecessarily. Hehehe.

Scenario Three: It is dark. A mosquito is playing tag with you, and you cannot catch it.

Solution: Get up, switch all the lights on. If it leaves the room, that'll be the end of it. You will not look for it, you will not pursue it. But if it doesn't, you will look for it, you will find it, and you will kill it.  

Scenario Four: You are unimaginative.

Solution: Buy All Out, plug it in, switch it on, go to sleep. Khallas!

Rainy day post

Today is an old friend’s funeral. As I write this his lifeless body must be surrounded by his grieving family, the funeral service going on, with words of comfort from church elders and friends and relatives. A pre-cyclonic rain has been falling since morning, it is cold and bleak and we stick indoors.

Old age doesn't look like a nice place, from this place right here, right now. Our loved ones, our family and friends will die, sometimes without warning, and with every death behind us, the memories will pile up like a heap of unwanted baggage, slowing us down and making our steps heavier. Old photographs will be sad reminders of happier days, seeing old faces will make us remember the ones who are no longer with us.

Or, we can decide to be optimistic and be happy that we have been spared for so long, long enough to enjoy the love and affection of those around us, and still being able to appreciate the pleasures that life brings.

I must go and dig out that Doctor Zhivago book which my friend lent me so many many years ago. I never finished reading it, maybe it‘s time to read it again. Rest in peace, old young friend.

The Dear Hunter

A rusty iron barrel, medium sized, stands in one corner of our terrace. It contains water which is regularly distributed among the many plants and flowers that inhabit our jungle-terrace. As we all know, standing water is a perfect breeding place for mosquitoes.  I’ve never seen mosquito eggs, but the larvae that hatch from the eggs are aplenty in the aforementioned barrel. And if left undisturbed they will grow up and become mosquitoes. Which is a disaster in waiting. Malaria on the rampage. Noisy buzzing and pesky insects up ahead. 

So I went larvae hunting.

First, we must study the life cycle of the mosquito.

On a closer inspection of the infected barrel, I found that if the water is still the larvae float up to the water surface and just hang there. Being cool, I guess. Or simply receiving sunlight.

Larvae are a finicky lot. If you so much as wave your hand above the water, they panic and head for deeper waters, which is not a good thing for the excited hunter. One should cultivate patience, standing still with hands above the water until the larvae have calmed down and returned to the surface. But remember, the exercise will be futile if you just stand there with your bare hands. One must be well equipped.

The weapon of choice is the what-shall-I-call-it, a racquet-like kind of instrument, where instead of the wires you have a very fine net.

is that a squashed racquet, dear?

Grab the handle firmly, and with a quick movement of the hand you swoop down, dip the net into the water and scoop out as many larvae as you can. Shake them off on the ground, where they will writhe in agony and then die.

Too bad I can't mount their heads on the wall.

Trip to Champhai

Spent six days (22-27 March 2013) traipsing around Champhai and the India-Burma border, visited many of my relatives, both from my father's and my mother's sides, some of whom I have never seen before, and many I haven't seen in ages.

A young niece

A cousin I haven't seen in a decade