Dust Will Return To Dust

I DON’T MIND extending visits to my home state Manipur by a few days. Everything I value comes free of cost here: good water, clean air, meeting people who speak my mother tongue, Paite, and those who mean no harm. Since I am hopeful that my ailing mother will respond positively to medical treatment, I find the extension a treat.


These days, the streets of my hometown, Churachandpur, also affectionately known as Lamka by the original settlers, are not at their best, even as NREGS patches are visible here and there. I am, however, feeling quite okay. The quiet town that’s not always peaceful, is far removed from the madding crowds of Delhi, Kolkata and Mumbai. Despite the water logging and flooding caused by the rains, everyone here is in high spirits and seems to be engaged in constant cellphone conversations with friends or relatives who could be anywhere in Manipur itself, in Bengaluru or in Europe. With regard to the movement of conveyance, even in times of bandhs and strikes, people find ways of reaching Imphal by various means, like displaying Press stickers on their vehicles, for instance!

In Lamka, notorious for its population of drug users and for other vices, people just refuse to wilt under pressure of the rotten system. They have learnt the art of acclimatising. And the resolve of well-meaning citizens gets hardened with each passing day. But nothing, it seems, can entirely kill their spirit.

I recently witnessed a Bible Quiz, conducted by the youth wing of the Evangelical Baptist Church. I was excited by the participation of boys from my village, Saikul, where the youth wing was born about 40 years ago. These boys, who are still studying in higher secondary schools, had buried their faces in their mothers’ bosoms in fear, when militants had gunned down 12 innocent villagers and burnt down half of the village in 1997.

It’s true that the mind sees what it chooses to see. On the day of the Bible Quiz, I saw a picture of resilience in the faces of the boys standing on the stage facing the packed crowd at the Youth Conference Hall in Lamka. They were hoping to bring back the long lost glory of Saikul. The quiz was based on the Book of Ezekiel. And behold, they stood first! The triumph of the villagers was the culmination of a series of unprecedented achievements made by them since that terrible day in 1997. In a sense, I perceived the win as a testimony to the administration of justice, the quintessence of the church, which is run on tithes collected from members.

Later, as I walked around the back alleys of a commercial complex, I saw a mayang (the term used to refer to mainstream Indians). I recalled hearing one such mayang in Delhi proclaim that churches in India received huge donations from abroad. Unfortunately, the fact that mission workers, who have helped produce educated and honest citizens, are starved of cash, has been ignored over the years, even by church members. Mission workers often have to supplement their paltry income through cultivation and from gifts received from committed Christians. Even the top executive of the church owns no luxuries, not even a befitting car. If a dollar had come to the church, it was probably invested in fixed deposits for redemption post- Judgement Day. If not, some of the mayangs might have evidences to depose!

Now that even the mission schools have become financial white elephants for the church, the setting up of colleges or universities is out of the question. The parents of most of the village children are in dire need of an additional hand to supplement the family income. Thus, from the Youth Conference Hall the boys shuttled back to their paddy and jhum fields. The Biblical saying, “Dust will return to dust”, seems set to be fulfilled even during a person’s lifetime.


From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 6, Issue 42, Dated October 24, 2009

The Bird Trust

FOR ALL OF us kids, the hot steaming meal at 8am was the first big hurdle in the day’s journey. Strangely enough, by sundown, the same food would have become cold and have turned into a delicacy. My friend Lumpoo and I liked eating it huddled beneath the elevated floor of my old house.

Later, we would stand at the gate as a battery of barefooted friends charged towards us in a cloud of dust. Then, from across the grassy lawns of the school, Mangpi would materialise from his house. Dalpu, who lived next door, would quietly join us too. Only then would we proceed to the fields to gather the grazing cows. It all coincided with the airing of western music from All India Radio Imphal.

One friend, Lingngam Sood, used to have agendas that became executive decisions. Only in case of extreme doubt would the reflective elements within the circle have a closer look at his ideas. It was around then that we had formed ‘a bird trust’ whereby all catches of bird by members were roasted and pooled in a container. For a long time, due to the absence of a good slingshot, the number of catches remained frozen at two — until the arrival of Qam.

Qam was related to Mangpi, who had a rich father and knew English — enough reason to command the group’s respect. He had, however, earned membership of the trust through his friendship with Sood. Lumpoo was delighted with the entry of the new member.

One day, as we were trooping away to the cadence of ABBA’s One of Us, Sood suddenly threatened: “If Qam is in, I am out”. He wanted to restrict the trust to cow owners. The resourceful Qam was not a cow owner and, moreover, came from a locality where cows followed a different grazing orbit.

It seemed that though Qam had become a part of the group through Sood, there had been a falling out. Even Mangpi made no effort to retain the sharp shooter. Thus, a member who hardly knew his alphabet by heart had blackmailed us. Alive to the implications of such threats, on such occasions, Dalpu used to implore Sood to be more responsible.

As usual, the silence that followed the threat of resignation was broken only when Dalpu initiated dialogue.

“I am not against you,” said Dalpu to assuage his cousin who was becoming more and more resolute “But you must have a good reason”.

At this, Bel, who was a close friend of Sood, butted in: “Yes, a good reason as to why you dislike your own decision so soon?” Sood blushed. The rest of us giggled nervously. There was a brief period of awkwardness. Soon, though, all our friendships were back on track.

By the early 1990s, my friend Lumpoo was drinking large quantities of country-made liquor. It was the only variety available in Manipur since 1991, when the sale or consumption of liquor was officially prohibited. This resulted in large-scale bootlegging with revenues going to underground outfits in the state. Lumpoo used to get wild during the winter holidays, when his buddies in the army would bring back Indian Made Foreign Liquor. On one such occasion, he told me about his grand ideas. He had been dying to re-live the charms of our childhood through gettogethers. He insisted, though, that the members of the old bird trust should avoid pushing their personal agendas.

One night, Lumpoo was dead drunk. “The magic has gone,” he lamented “The more I tried, the more we seemed to drift apart.” When I asked if he was interested in eating a cold lunch, he became emotional. Eyes streaming, he burst into gales of laughter. As he rubbed his tear-soaked eyes, I said: “Now, you have become the child that you once were”.

As he settled down, he confessed that his heavy drinking had affected his health. “I’ll be seeing you in heaven,” he said.

He died soon thereafter.


From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 6, Issue 23, Dated Jun 13, 2009

Wherever You Are

Thy Will Be Done

It had never occurred to me that being a CISF jawan could be life threatening. I'd seen death bodies of CRPF jawans in Imphal. I'd seen policemen senselessly murdered. In the God forshaken state of Manipur, no body right from the vegetable vendor to the Governor is safe. But the thought of a Maoist raid of a CISF outpost in the Hindu heartland of AP, Orissa, Bihar or West Bengal endangering the life of A Friend (AF) had never crossed my mind. Untill the friend called up to tell me he could have died.

There are somethings I remember about the Naxal infested areas. I had just received an offer of appointment in Lok Sabha Secretariat when I got calls from the Indian Institute of Social Welfare and Business Management for interview to the post of Assistant Commissioner in Coal Mine Provident Fund. By virtue of my still being working in Armed Forces Headquarters at that time, I received a valuable advice of a Colonel hailing from Bihar; mining regions are not the best place to be. Therefore my brother and me decided that a job in Parliament of India was more than enough. That was 1998.

AF started the cell conversation by asking me if I knew about the recent Maoist attack on his unit. I could hardly remember the place of his posting-Orissa. But that was it. All I need I have- his contact number. Just in case. So I asked him straight away where exactly he was posted. But his voice blurred into something like Dhanamanjuri.

"Dhana Manjuri?" I repeated to confirm that I didn't get it wrong.

"Comeon I'm not in a college (DM College is the most prominent educational institute in Manipur). I'm earning a living here in Damanjodi" the stern voice from the other end carried through the airwaves. Immediately I googled the word and found thousands of hits on the net. This time I got it right. Damanjodi.

AF was patiently telling me that it was in Damanjodi where 7 of his comrades were killed in the gun battle on the fateful night of Sunday the 12th April, 2009. And I realized that call could be an emotional one.

AF with a comrade was sent for duty without arms while 3 other comrades from the Quick Reaction Team remained at the post. And behold! the battery of highly motivated naxals cadres stormed the place. All of his comrades stuck in the post plus 4 others from the same unit died and the naxals decamped with a huge haul of arms, ammunitions and explosives. I could only plead that AF needed to thank God for sparing his life.

Later I found out a PTI report from internet. The report shows that the well planned attack on NALCO, Asia's biggest bauxite mine on Sunday night was aimed at disrupting the upcoming Lok Sabha (Lower House of Parliament of India, seat of lagislation for the largest democracy in the world) polls and loot explosives. Grand Agenda ofcourse!

As for me I could merely say TGMFIOK! Thank God My Friend Is Ok.

Wedding sans Vai camera men

The Second Law

A Visit to Cemetry