Chp 62. Bangalore Burning

At around 3pm yesterday, I got an sms from my roomie who has just reached his office.

“Rajkumar died. That same guy who was kidnapped by Veerappan.”
“Shit! Are you sure? Tomorrow’s definitely going to be a state holiday then. And hey, I was planning to play baskey at KMG in the evening. Do u think it’s safe to go there?”
“No man, you better stay indoors…”

So immediately I was all over the net. Googled all sort of keywords, but there was nothing mentioned about Dr.Rajkumar and his death. Went to www.ndtv.com, www.deccanherald.com, www.thehinduonnet.com etc but nothing was mentioned anywhere. Pronto went an sms back to my roomie.

“Bastard, it’s a hoax. There’s nothing mentioned about his death anywhere.”
“Fucker, he died just some 30mins ago. Check www.msn.ac.in It’s given there.”

So I went to www.msn.ac.in . There, in the latest news section, was just one line. “Kannada thespian and film idol Rajkumar passes away”. Just one line, which was not even linked. The fact that such a news like this was not linked made it look even more genuine and current as one can actually get the feel that the news reporters are right then rushing to the scene to get the full story.

I got to work immediately. Smsed as many people as I can about this news, urging them not to go outside. All in all, I forwarded my warning to more than 70-80 people. I made sure I described who Rajkumar is coz I don’t want to receive 50 replies with “Who is Rajkumar?” A majority of the people I smsed were people from my place (Mizoram) and also those who are non kannadigas. My kannadiga frens were on the last rung of my priority list bcoz they were relatively much safer than people who are not from Karnataka. Number one priority on my list were ofcourse my tamil friends. Remember the anti-tamil sentiments that hit the streets of Bangalore in 2000 when Veerappan kidnapped Rajkumar? I certainly would not like to see a replay of that.

Here is another example where people from far away places who have been at a particular location for too long, tends to think just like the locals. I have been in the South for nearly 15 years now. I don’t know how but the moment I heard about the sad demise of Dr.Rajkumar, I knew immediately that there was going to be unruly incidents (I just didn’t know it was going to be THIS bad). And when I warned my friends about it, the non-mizos replied with a “thanx for the warning” but most of the mizos replied with “Why? Why should that stop us from going outside?” and “Why would there be a problem, was his death controversial? Was he murdered?”. Here is a clean cut case of how people from different regions think differently. People who have just moved here from Mizoram have absolutely no clue as to why people would incite violence over someone’s death (especially a natural one). Back home, funerals are a time for mourning. Everybody talk in hushed tones, sing soft funeral songs and everything is peaceful because of respect for the dead. But here, when someone dies, people burst crackers, play loud music and dance as if possessed during the funeral procession (apparently to scare away evil spirits). And in the South, film Idols are looked up with the deepest respect possible and some of them are even worshipped and given a God-like status, erecting temples in their names. Hence when their Idol dies, they go berserk destroying everything that lie in their path, to show their grief and how much they are going to miss him. By “they”, I am ofcourse referring only to the truly fanatical ones. If you have been watching the news yesterday and today, you would have noticed that many kannadiga celebrities (actors, directors, writers, politicians) have spoken out against this current violence, stating it’s a “Black day for Karnataka” and “a disgrace to every kannadigas”. I totally understand what you mean. Even I would feel the same way had my mizo brethrens did something like this.

Yes, even though most of us foresaw such an event occurring, nobody imagined it would be this serious. Yesterday as I finished warning everybody through sms and posting on the front page of www.misual.com (“Hence please refrain from going outside your home unless it is absolutely necessary. Dr.RajKumar has a fan following of more than a million kannadigas, and believe me, I may be brave but I am not stupid enough to stand infront of a million angry crowbar wielding mob on a rampage.”), I went outside to buy food and drinks for the next few days. But alas, every shop has already downed their shutter. News definitely travels fast! I was hungry as hell.

Emily, a very close friend of mine, told me to come over to her place for dinner if it was safe, and even though it wasn’t safe at all, I went anyway, mainly because I was extremely hungry and also partly because I wanted to be where the action was. I wanted to see with my own eyes what was exactly happening on the streets. Could this be the journalist in me begging to come out, or just the inquisitive child in me being curious?

Before I left, we had an unofficial building members committee at Maureen’s room. Steve, an Infosys techie, was asleep the whole day so he had no idea what was going on. Vicky, whose AOL call-centre cab did not come to pick him up, told me NOT to take the bike, and incase I was, then I should fly one of those yellow-red flags the fans of Rajkumar were carrying, but Maureen said this was a bad idea coz I wasn’t going to fool anyone once they see my face. Damn. So they suggested the best solution would be to walk, that way I can easily run into one of the gulley incase the mob chases me.

From my place, it’s a straight road till Banaswadi flyover which is around 2-3kms away. Walking down that road at that exact time was a completely new experience for me. There were tyres burning everywhere in the middle of the road, all the shops were closed and the street was completely void of any vehicle moving. Ofcourse I did not see any vehicles burning like the ones on TV, but there were broken glasses everywhere littered across the street, glasses from the windows of vehicles (they are brittle and not sharp). There were quite a number of people here and there standing on the edge of the road in groups, not fanatical mobs but rather residents of our area. And many of the families have put up huge posters of Rajkumar and garlanded it with flowers, sweets etc. Now this is how one should pay homage to the dead. Over all, the atmosphere was extremely tense and heavy, and now and then I was finding it a bit difficult to breath. It felt like a dream actually. Everyone talking in hush tones, looking here and there, turning sharply at the least loud noise heard, as if we were sitting in a time bomb ready to explode. Even all the dogs were unusually quiet. Not a single dog barked. Clever dogs. The entire stretch of road is filled with shops and commercial establishments, but till the flyover, only two medical stores were open that day. It was exactly a ghost town.

From the flyover, things were a bit different on the main road. There were a couple of life commuting on the road, and it definitely felt safer. I reduced my pace a bit and started walking normally. There were even a few autos plying on this road, a perfect opportunity for them to make a killing. Finally reached Emily’s place after a total 45 minutes of walk. Siami, roomie of popular blogger arunima was there too and she made this amazing “bai”. The dinner was definitely worth it. After dinner, Emily’s bro Jim asked me to stay over as it’s even more dangerous than before to go back. But something in me (stupidity?) wanted to go back home. My roomie called me up and told me he’s safely back home, but some drunkards threw a beer bottle at his Convergys call-centre cab. That incident took place near the Lingaraja flyover which wasn’t the route I was taking anyway, so it didn’t affect me much. The streets, which were partially deserted before, was now completely deserted. Not a living soul in sight. But as I proceeded towards Banaswadi flyover, the sudden sound of bottles breaking nearly gave me a heart attack. Two drunk guys were throwing bottles at the buildings around them. Even though they were on the other side of the road, I just ran and ran until I reach the flyover. The putrid smell of burning rubber still filled the area under the Banaswadi flyover and I have never been this alert in my entire life. From there till my house, no further incidents took place, thank God. I passed four vehicles on that small street, and all four drivers stared at me, probably as scared and alert as I was, seeing if I was carrying any bottles in my hand or not. Lolx.

You know what was really scary last night? The fact that there was not a single cop in sight. During my journey from my house to Emily’s and back home again, there wasn’t a single law enforcement officer on duty. On that very same road I was walking, on other days there would be lots of cops checking bike papers and giving the people their “holier than thou” attitude. But tonight, haha, they have all gone into hiding. Even the Kamanahalli Police station was locked up!

Reached home and there was this Arsenal-Portsmouth match going on at ESPN. Around 30 mintues into the game, the channel suddenly went static. My roomie n I cursed and searched for other channels. One by one, each channel was becoming static. Only the news channels remained active. So we watched the rest of the match on the net. Arsenal drew with Portsmouth. Bummer. It was only today that we found out all the cable operators have stopped airing all channels other than news as a mark of respect for the dearly departed.

Woke up this morning and was ecstatic to find out the small shops near my house were opened. Bought the most basic essential immediately: Goldflake Kings cigarette. Woohooo!

I went out in the afternoon to buy some grub. The big daddies like Nilgiries, Hotel Empire, Aiwas etc were still closed, but Hotel Imran, a small sidey kabaab place had its shutter half open. I went over there and asked for a biryani. Immediately I was ushered to a corner of a street and ordered to stand there. I gave the guy 40 bucks and later he came towards me and slyly handed me a plastic bag. Lolx. It felt as if I was buying some illegal contraband stuff. So I went home with my biryani and watched the news again.

Ah the news! NDTV kept on showing this clip about a cop running away from the mob with stones flying towards him, until one guy caught him and then the people trashed that poor cop. And he was grinning as he ran. Man I feel soooooo sorry for the bugger. Another clip showed a cop being carried away by the mob. God knows what they were planning to do to him.

All in all, what the kannadiga celebrities said was so true. Most of the mobs are anti-social elements, making trouble just because this is the only time they can commit such outrageous crimes. Compare the two television clips of angry Palestinians stoning an Israeli tank and “fanatical fans” of Dr.Rajkumar stoning a burning KSRTC bus. You can literally see the anger and passion in the faces of the former, while the latter shows grinning faces up to no good. Here I quote what the NDTV driver said after he was roughened up by the mob: “They were pelting big big stones and clearly everyone is booze, and they did not come to see Rajkumar but came to make violence.” sigh* How true.

Watching the news and other people comment definitely makes the common man come up with their own different judgment. NDTV claimed there was only one death during the violence while Times now said 5 people died so far. Girish Karnad, actor and theatre personnel, blames this whole thing on the poor response and preparation made by the police, while DGP DS Sial said this whole incident is an insult to the departed soul, clearly evading the question on whether this whole incident is a failure or not on the law enforcement part. Still, whatever be the outcome, the common man suffers. No water supply, electricity blackouts in some part of the city (luckily we had electricity the whole day), no restaurants open, and most important of all, no wine shop open!

I hope and pray tomorrow is a better Bangalore. It’s Good Friday tomorrow. Am planning not to miss the evening Mizo Church service. Hope I don’t get pelted with stones on my way to Church.

Chp 61. Happy Birthday Eve

[Imaginary background music = “Happy Birthday to you” by New Kids on the Block, put on unlimited loop]

Darling,
A very very happy birthday to you.
Although we’re miles apart,
Deep inside we are but one.
I know I cannot be by your side on this day,
But if God acknowledges,
I promise I will be for the rest of your life.

On this day, ** years ago,
God made my Destiny, with extra care.
He sees the future, He knows the past.
I thank Him for all that He has done.

As you celebrate this special day,
Always know deep inside
That I am there too,
Right by your side in spirit.
Looking shy as I stand besides you;
Smiling as well wishers shake your hand;
Holding back your hair as you blow the candles out;
Clapping as friends smear your face with cake;
Kissing you as you make a wish,
A wish that has just come true...

Baby, on this special day,
I send you my very best wishes,
With lots and lots of kisses,
And hope you have the time of your life.

I know I suck at poetry,
And I know my lines don’t rhyme.
But what I do know is that,
There’s no greater love than ours.
Happy birthday once again my darling,
May the good Lord continue watching over you.

Chp 60. Monster Bike: Thunderbird

“It’s simple. It’s just like riding a bicycle. And you’ve been driving a four wheeler all your life. Combine those two and that’s it, you’re driving a bike”.

Those were the exact words from my good fren Isaac.

And last night, for the first time in my life, I drove a bike. Not just drove it around the block, but went all the way from Shivajinagar to Kamanahalli! Mannnnn it felt great!!!!

I have never been a bike person. Unlike most guys, I never had the chance to learn how to ride a bike. 9th grade. That was the time when all my frens in Mizoram started hitting the roads and rebelling. They all had their own two wheelers and they would zoom thru the streets of Aizawl late in the night. I was young then. I begged n begged my dad to buy me a bike. He immediately ordered our driver to teach me how to drive the car. Because after all, I am the youngest and the only son in the family, the apple of daddy’s eye and mummy’s spoilt little pampered child. They were never going to let me drive a bike as they considered it suicidal.

So I started driving a Maruti van at a very early age, followed by a gypsy and finally replaced by a Wagon R (By the way, we were the first people in Mizoram to own a Wagon R when it rolled out from the factory. Boy it felt great driving that car, bcoz everyone would stare at the car as if it’s a foreign car like a BMW or a Diablo or something like that. Plus, till now I strongly believe Wagon R is the best car I’ve ever driven in the small car sector. Indica, Matiz and maruti 800/zen are nowhere near it when it comes to ease of performance. But I admit, it does have a very shitty design.)

Anyway, there I was, driving a four wheeler all over town. And then came College. From our gang, Paolo had a 4-wheeler, and sometimes Johny would bring his car for the weekend. Nobody in our circle owned a bike. So engineering college went by without me ever getting the chance to learn how to drive a bike. Moved to H’bad after college and my Iraqi roomie Hyder owned an 800 and Haj also rent a Maruti now and then. So again I got to drive only a four-wheeler.

Post graduate. IIM-B. From our cirle of frens, Amol had a diesel Indica and Monu had a petrol Indica. Ofcourse they had bikes too, but I was only into the car. So two years went by, discontinued from IIM-B, and yet I never got to drive a bike. I always had Amol or Monu’s car at my disposal.

But the story changed as time moved on. Recently all my frens graduated from IIM (a compassionate post about farewell coming up soon. Promise it will be a real tear jerker) and shifting location means sending home a lot of stuff. Unfortunately Amol was not able to send his bike home because he couldn’t find the papers. So the responsibility of arranging the bike duplicate papers and sending it to Delhi fell on my hands as he could not postpone his flight.

Yesterday I went all the way to KMG, and picked up Isaac in an auto, and went to Nitya’s place near campus where the bike was parked. From there, Isaac drove till T’s place, which was as far as he was willing to go. At T’s place, I started learning how to drive the bike. I mean, I know how to drive in theory, like, bottom is 1st gear, then neutral, then 2nd gear etc. I drove around T’s block nearly 10 times. Soon got the hang of it. My dear roomie Amos was shit scared as hell to sit behind me as I hit the main roads for the first time in my life. But I assured him I am not going to screw up. Finally he sat on the bike coz he really had no other option. Amos was so scared that he hugged me tightly… or was that just an excuse?

Man, the ride back home was AMAZING. Driving a bike is nothing like driving a car. The sheer thrill of zooming 140 kmph on a flyover while I could do just a mere 90 in a car. Plus the noise the monster was making, it was absolute Heaven! Thunderbird. India’s version of a Harley. Mean heavy machine. Powerful as hell and sturdy to the bone.

And today I took the bike to Church. Ofcourse I was still a bit hesitant to go alone, so Isaac came over to my place in his Enticer and we went to Church together on those two bikes. I surprised everyone. Nobody thought I will have the guts to drive the bike in traffic as I’ve just learnt how to drive last night. Even that surprised me too. I guess I got the guts because I’ve been driving a car all these time on these very same roads.

After church I drove back immediately to my place although the guys had plans to meet up at a fren’s place. Here are the reasons why I wanted to play safe and be home before it gets dark.
• The bike had no papers and it was a weekend, meaning cops are all over the city checking bike papers.
• I did not have a two-wheeler license!
• The brakes aren’t working properly
• The battery is wasted. I can’t even see if the indicator is on neutral or not.
• When the engine dies, am having a tough time kick starting coz I couldn’t put it at neutral, and if it is on gear, a Thunderbird cannot be kick-started while gripping the clutch. It HAS to be in neutral.
• And oh one last thing. The freaking horn doesn’t work!

But inspite of all these, I drove pretty well. According to Isaac, I was a prodigy! He has never seen anybody catch up that fast. The only part where I was goofing up was at the signals. I always forget to switch the indicator off after giving a right or left signal. And Isaac has to turn back and shout that my indicator is still on for the umpteenth time. I mean, I am still so used to cars where the indicator automatically switches off. Guess I’ll have to work on that.

Last night after I drove the bike for the first time, I was excited as hell and obviously dreamt a lot when I slept. My dreams were all hazy n fuzzy and there were a lot of people and incidents involved. Can’t recollect much, but what I do remember is that this Thunderbird was involved in each and every part of my dream.

I really hope the bike papers can be made ASAP so that I can send this Monster to Delhi. The sooner the better coz I am starting to get really attached to it. So help me God.

Chp 59. Massage

On one of my earlier posts, I wrote about addiction and the kinda stuff people can get addicted to. Contemplating on that, I serious feel it’s possible to get addicted to massages.

You gotta be a true massage freak to enjoy this particular post.

How many of you can truly say you don’t enjoy a good massage? Especially after a stressful hard day’s work in the office, or after a tiring game of football or basketball or any kinda ball? If there is anyone who can honestly admit that a massage is the last thing on his/her mind, then I will personally come over to your house and clean your dishes for a week (My way of telling everyone that this is what I’ve been doing for the past 4 months )

Back in College days, during 1st and 2nd year of Engineering, I always go for a head massage every time I have a haircut (I used to have a weekly haircut and I still do even now) and also after a really tough workout during basketball practice. Man it just feels sooooo good to have the experienced barber rubbing and pounding my head with his bare hands (I would have said with his bare masculine huge strong hands, but that kinda made me sound a bit broke-backish ). He rubs and rubs and always manages to find the right spot, the right artery, the right tendons, the right muscles. Each stroke of his hand brings about a new sensation of ecstasy electrifying through my entire body. I can practically feel every molecules of my body jumping up and down and at the same time completely relaxing. Ah!!!! And after the massage, as I get up from that chair, I am completely re-vitalized, with an over-flowing feeling of calm, relaxation and satisfaction that I don’t seem to be experiencing anywhere else.

But 3rd year and 4th year of College, that was when I suddenly realize something very serious. I was actually starting to get uncontrollably attached to massages. I started visiting the barber just to get a head massage (15 bucks) even if I was not getting a haircut. I was on 3-4 massages a week then, and during exam week, it was a daily head massage. I know this may sound stupid but I actually believed I found it easier to study for my exams after a quick session of head pounding. But maybe this is partly true, after all, the more we learn, the more we forget. And when the barber starts hammering my head, a couple of things that I have learnt before are pounded out, hence making it easier for me to learn new theorems and programming languages. Towards the end of my 4 year sentence at PSG Tech, I was already on a daily, and sometimes even more than once a day head massage

After completing my engineering, I migrated to Hyderabad. There, things went for bad to worse. Not only did I continue going for my daily head massages, I even started “cheating” on my regular barber and “experimented” with others. It was like a new thrill. At first, yeah I did feel guilty about it, but what can I do. The body may be strong but the mind is weak. I found out that every barber have their own unique way of massaging. Sometimes, a particular barber concentrates on a particular style of massaging or on a particular spot while another lay stress on a different form. And some barbers even have their own modified version of head pounding. Some of them are exotic, some of them use appliances, and a few others surprise you with a new trick or two that you least expected. And I really love the ones that massage for a longtime, you know. Barbers who don’t last long, aren’t fun. Ofcourse if he finishes too quickly, I don’t complain but I make sure I never go to him again. (Gee, I only wish you guys can read my post as a completely decent and innocent post and not think of anything else all these time. Sheeesh, the kinda people that read my blog... )

Back to my addiction now. Ofcourse there is no such thing as “Massage Anonymous” but I really wished there was one right then. You know, something like a bunch of guys facing each other, sitting in a “straight circle” as my school PT Master used to say, somewhere in a shady damp place with just one yellow bulb flickering above.

Me: Hi. My name is Ki... Michael
Everyone: Hello Michael.
Me: Hi... Uh… well, the other day I passed Royal Saloon* on my way back from work. Stood outside the place for 10 minutes just watching the barber run his hands smoothly through his customers’ hair, and I could feel my knees go weak and my scalp twitch. But no, I told myself to be strong and suddenly made a dash for the other side of the road. Ofcourse a bus rammed directly into me as I was running across the street and ended up with seven multiple fractures, twelve stitches, a broken rib, a minor intra-cerebral hemorrhage and doctors said I may never be able to pee the normal way again. But the main important thing is, I resisted the temptation to go for a quick head massage.
Counselor: Bravo. Everyone, give a big hand to Michael.
(Everyone claps)
Counselor: Ok next…

[ * Why do so many people in India use the word “Saloon” to describe or name a barber’s place? I’ve seen atleast 20 different haircutting outlets with the word “Saloon” attached to it, like “Ramu’s Saloon”, “Hair Saloon”, “Bombay Saloon”, “Style Saloon” etc. The correct word is “Salon”. “Saloon” is actually a tavern, especially the ones we see in old western movies with gun-slinging sheriffs, tight denim pants and inflated crotches. Mizos on the whole too use “Saloon” a lot, but then, we can atleast say it got lost somewhere in translation, due to the letter “o” having a different pronunciation in Mizo from English. ]

Anyway, damn I’ve crossed the 1000 word milestone already! And all I’ve been talking about so far is just the head massage. I guess BlackWhite is kinda right. Once I start writing, I just don’t know when and how to stop. Hmmm, maybe next time, we will move further south, coz after all, if there is one thing that’s better than a head massage, it is a back massage. Yes yes, I know exactly what you were thinking, faith_no_more. And I’m sorry but you are not going to find the kinda massage you had in mind here in my blog. If I do move even further south, then it will be a foot massage. Just give up.

Chapter Interlude: Yahoo Offlines

I got a couple of offline messages when I logged in @ Yahoo while I was staying over at a fren's place in IIM the whole of last week. But then his comp hanged and all my offline messages are now gone forever. Since most of the messages I got were regarding my blog or from people who read my blog, I hope whoever messaged me can plz do it again since I never got the chance to reply or save the IDs.

As far as I can remember, there was one "sidewinder" something who wanted to discuss about something that I went through, "marie" something who wanted to talk more about an old post of mine (Older women,younger guys), and "Elektra" something who I've completely forgotten what he/she wanted to talk about. If you're any of the above people, plz do message me on yahoo again and am really sorry for the inconveniences.

Cheers...

Chp 58. Basketball

Gallons of beer and crates of Rum later, do take a look at me. I am a balding pot bellied aging fart. Lazier than a sloth and slower than anyone’s grandma.

But there once used to be a time, long long time ago, when I was one of the most sought after point-guard in Tamilnadu school and college level. Ah! Such sweet memories. Waking up everyday before sunrise to jog 20 times around the football ground, skipping continuously for 30mins with 3mins break every 5mins, and undergoing the most stressful and tiring endurance work-outs under different State Coaches. There had been hardly a time when I did not do more than 100 sit-ups daily those days. Now I cannot even do 20 at one go.

Basketball has always been a part of my soul. Have been playing it since 3rd std. The only reason why I got into basketball at such an early age was because of my role models. Nope, it’s neither Jordan nor Magic. My two role models those days were my two elder sisters. They were really into BBall and were both captain of their school team when they were in 12thstd. La Martiniere’s School, Calcutta. I used to look up to them a lot and I started playing basketball only because of them while every young boy from the North-east was playing football.

Yet I trained harder and harder. Basketball is the only part of my life where I’ve actually ever pushed myself to the limit. In St.Thomas (Calcutta) and Montfort (Yercaud), my two alma maters, I was always the only mizo in the basketball team while the rest of the mizos went along the football mainstream. Years later, when I was in 10thstd, I was nominated the senior basketball team captain (Montfort School, Yercaud) and 2 years later, the School Basketball Captain, bagging the prestigious best Basketball Player Award. My dreams came true.

As far as I can remember, I’ve been playing basketball every single day during my school and college days. And I had the honour of playing under many great coaches, of which my most treasured coach would be Mr.Elias. Not just the best coach I’ve ever come across but also a great friend whom I turn to for advice on life, love and all sort of crazy stuff growing kids were curious about.

During my school captaincy, I led my team to the States Championship! That has been one of my proudest achievements so far. Winning a couple of state level tournament is something (to be precise, we won 12 state level tournaments under my captaincy), but winning zonals, districts, inter-districts, divisionals, regionals, inter-regionals and final reaching State is a completely different thing. Man it felt great.

Even in Mizoram, even though I am hardly there, I do play every time I go home for the vacations. My first team was “Vipers”. A total wash-out. We lost the second game we played. The next time I went home, I joined “Vikings”, a team made up by our locality group of friends. I did have a good time there. But it was not fruitful. During my 10thstd vacation, I was recruited by “J.L.Vision”. It was one of the best games I’ve ever played and we won the Mizoram tournament that year, and yours truly was awarded the best Player of Mizoram! Even got an offer to join the State team, but unfortunately had to decline because I had to go back to Tamilnadu for my studies. During one of my College semester vacation, I joined “ABC”. It stands for Andrew Basketball Club. Andrew was a dear fren of mine and ex-teammate from “Vikings” who passed away, may God rest his soul. The team is made up of people who were close to him. We won the Mizoram Tournament that year too!!! Had a blast celebrating our victory. And right now, am currently playing for “Club Francis” even though I never got an occasion to actually play for the team yet because it’s been ages since I last went home. “Club Francis” is formed in memory of Francis, a very close fren and classmate of mine, who died in a car accident in 2003, May God rest his soul too.

College was no different. I was a complete jock. We won TIES (Tamilnadu Inter Engineering Sports) three out of the four years I was in the College team. And during my final year at P.S.G. Tech, I was elected the Captain. But unfortunately I had to decline this offer and appointed Guhan to take my place. I assured the team that I will be just the playing captain. Coz being captain over all, means doing a lot of things like, registering for tournaments, arranging the transportation of the team, managing the funds and DAs (Daily Allowance) and TAs (Travel Allowance) etc and since my tamil is kinda weak, it was not something I can live up to.

Apart from being a 3 times TIES gold medalist, I played for the PSG Sports Club, one of the best college-level basketball clubs in Tamilnadu. We even beat Loyola whites once. PSG Sports Club is made up of the best players from PSG Tech (Engineering), PSG CAS (Arts) and PSG IMS (Medical) colleges. PSG Tech has given me some of my best memories when it comes to basketball. Long before I joined this college, when I was the captain of my School team, I scored my career highest of 42 points here in this very Institute. And PSG Tech was also the place where I actually dunked during the course of an actual tournament (Fuck, now I cannot even touch the ring). And during my PSG days, we even beat Customs & Excise, one of the best Clubs in TN, with a buzzer beater! I couldn’t sleep that nite.

But I guess one must sacrifice if one wants to do something else that is more important. During my final year at PSG, I had a couple of back-papers that I must clear if I wanted to graduate. It was then that I got an offer to join my University (Bharthiar) BB team. With a heavy heart I had to turn it down bcoz I had lots to study. And our team went on to become runners-up in the All India University Tournament, losing to DU (Delhi University) in the finals. Damn, how much I regretted letting that opportunity pass.

Anyway, even though I’ve stopped playing for the past 3-4 years, I do hit the court like once or twice a month. It is then that I go through a very emotional phase that every ex-sportsperson goes through. It is at that very moment that you realize how different you’ve become, when you realize how much it hurts to know you can do a particular move, but physically you just can’t do that anymore. Like, your mind is ready to execute that 360 degrees double fake in the air, but when you actually do it, your body lands on the hard concrete floor even before spinning 270. I mean, your mind is perfectly capably of doing it, and in your head, you’ve actually pictured yourself doing that move, but in the real world, it is just not possible anymore. Or the way you fire a fade-away three pointer downtown. Nobody could stop you once you were on fire those days. But now, people block your fade aways as if it’s a casual jump shot. Sigh*

But there is one thing I will never regret from what I gained playing all those tournaments all my life. Experience. This is probably one of the most important factor in a game of basketball. I have seen so many players who are extremely good courtside while practicing, but when it comes to a real tournament with national refrees and flood lights and the crowd heckling them, they easily give in to pressure and even miss a Childs play underbasket.

With experience comes a whole lot of advantages like the ability to analyze the whole game, the ability to predict your man’s next move, the ability to predict the opponent’s coach’s next game plan, the ability to understand the whole game as if its nothing but a simple game of tic tac toe, the ability to keep calm even when you’re having the ball and there’s only 5 seconds left on the clock and the opponent is leading by two points.

During my college days, when me and my frens would just sit and watch top level players like Robinson Sr. (IOB), Hansel (ICF), Jayashankar (Indian bank), Parminder Singh Sr. (Punjab) etc perform on the court, we used to actually laugh at them coz they were so talented yet so slow due to old age creeping up on them. But then you realize how critical their position is on the team. These people have more experience than all of us from our college team put together. Their main job on the team would be to feed the much younger and vitalized players. And right now, I feel nothing but like these legends. An old fart on the court who knows every trick in the book but cannot even shuttle run a half court under 1 minute anymore. Age and nicotine takes a toll on everybody sooner or later.

I used to follow the NBA loyally too. Knew every single player from Western to Eastern conference back then. But nowadays, am completely out of touch with what’s going on in the NBA. I had a lot of idols too, role models. And I was completely crazy over them. I used to hate Shaq. I still do. The people I really love are phenomenal players like Iverson, Jason Kidd, Stockton, Snow, Stoudamire, Hardaway etc. Yup if you are a follower of NBA, you will realize what profile really impresses me. Short guys. Especially short point guards. Why? Coz I too am a height impaired basketball player (I’m just 5’10, tall for a mizo, but short for a basketball player) and also a point guard. I really love it when short guys boldly challenge a taller player and shoots over him. Honestly speaking, I am not even a fan of Yao Ming, and it’s really irritating when people ask me if he’s my idol just because he happens to be oriental too.

Anyway, I guess basketball will always be a part of my life. Sometimes it hurts when I read the mizo papers and find that Mapuia is glorified for being the first mizo to play in the National team. Mapuia, who was nothing but a mere kid during the peak of my career, is now playing for the Indian juniors team. Sometimes all these makes me think, I could have very well been where he is right now had I not decided to concentrate on my studies. Ah life sux. But then, when I think even more deeply and ask myself if it was really worth it, the answer is definitely yes. I have gained so much more after I took the academics path even though I discontinued from IIMB. I would have never been where I am today had I decided to ditch my studies and concentrate on sports.

This is why I just love the NBA. They have just one simple message for all the youngsters worldwide. “Stay in School”. Ofcourse this doesn’t apply to the likes of Kobe Bryant, Grant Hill etc who joined the league immediately after school. But still, it is reassuring to know that the NBA discourages people from dropping out of school just for the sake of playing a professional game. Long live Basketball.

Chp 57. Addiction

Addiction. Been there done that.

Its amazing how we never realize how attach we become to a particular thing that we do regular until it’s too late. And I am not just talking about drugs or alcohol or any other habits your folks warned you to stay away from. Stuff that normal human beings do. Simple harmless stuff. Harmless until one day you realize you cannot live without that substance.

Look at me for example. From the very moment that I wake up in the morning, there are two things I HAVE to take otherwise I will go completely crazy. And I am not talking about morning glory. Two very harmless substances that’s available everywhere. One is consumed by every single person in this World, the other by almost every single person in this World.

Water and Coffee. Dear Lord, I just cannot imagine what will happen if there is no water to drink the moment I wake up. Ever since I can remember, the first thing I do as soon as I open my eyes is reach for my water bottle and gulp down atleast 3-4 glasses. When I was a mere kid, my mom used to force me to drink water as soon as I wake up, telling me it will purify my digestive and circulatory system or something like that. Even after they packed me off to a boarding school, she used to call me up every now n then and ask if I am regularly drinking water in the morning. I did that every single day in school and then college. And now, I just cannot start my day without drinking water. If there is no water around to drink when I wake up, my throat becomes parched dry, my head spins around, my vision gives away and I swear I can feel my BP rise drastically. Why can't I be like other normal folks who, if there is no water around to drink when they wake up, can easily go on with their life? Me, my life stops abruptly.

Another early morning addiction of mine is coffee. I guess you can call me a hardcore coffee drinker. Pretty strange actually coz I am a Mizo and Mizos in general are tea fanatics, not coffee. Blame it on my South-Indian upbringing. I just cannot live without coffee. Period. If there is no coffee to drink in the morning, I can feel this really uncomfortable throbbing down my throat, like an uncontrollable spasm pumping and pumping me until that first sip of Heavenly coffee flows down my throat. Only then does the pain stops. Ask me anything about coffee and I will fire back a quick reply. Bean sprouts, arabica, chicory, robusta, estates in Tamilnadu hill stations which cultivates the best coffee, price ranges of all coffee products in the Indian Market, Irish coffee ingredients, you name it. Coffee is my area of expertise. By the way, a brief advertisement. Coffee lovers of Bangalore, please do check out Kalmane Koffee. It’s in Forum, Koramangala, right next to the entrance from the Car Parking on the 2nd floor, opposite that miniature car model shop and Jockeys if I am not mistaken. That place is amazing, selling a huge variety of blends with exotic names like Bluegrass, Cantata, Harmony, Ethiopian, Sidamo, Rich Columbian and Mysore Nuggets. Place is owned by a very close friend of mine Dhiraj Prabhu, real estate developer n entrepreneur running his dad's company Skyline Construction, blood-brother from school days, my Local Guardian while I was in IIM, and a devoted born-again Christian.

Nicotine: Another addiction of mine. I smoke close to 15 ciggies a day. Dad and I never discussed this but mom keeps on nagging n nagging me to quit because she herself used to be a chain smoker once (her nick-name those days was “train engine”) until she caught my eldest sister puffing away years ago. It was then that she realized this was not the example she ought to show, and quit abruptly. Dad on the other hand, still smokes like a chimney, and I guess that’s one of the reasons why he has never fatherly-advised me to stop smoking. My room is the only room in our house where smoking is not prohibited. And my three elder sisters never let this opportunity pass. I'll be playing a game on my comp and one of my sisters would usually come and sit with me and light up a ciggie. And if mom or dad suddenly enters my room, she would slyly place the ciggie on my hand. And my mom would be like, how can you sit with him in his stuffy room with all these smoke, don't you know passive smoking is injurious to health? LoLx. But I am slowly cutting down. Eve once sent me an sms. “I know I don't want you to change for my sake, but please remember that if you live longer, we can love each other longer.” Sweeeeeet . That has indeed been a great motivation for me to try quitting. Right now I am trying to keep it at 10 ciggies a day. By next month, reduce to 5. And eventually, nilch.

The problem with smoking is that, after most of us picked up the habit of smoking, one place where we always smoke is in the loo while we're crapping. One reason is to subdue the smell and another reason is, it just feels so damn good to smoke “under pressure” Hence, every time we crap, we smoke. This became such a strong habit that, there are actually times when I'm happily smoking and suddenly feel like crapping And this really looks bad, especially when I'm with my gurl in a cozy posh restaurant or on my way to Church.

Apart from all that, there are various other stuff I am addicted to. One of the first things that come to my mind is “Puchhkas”. But then, I’ve already dedicated an entire post to Puchhkas so enough of that for now. KFC Zinger burger? Well, honestly, I think that is just a passing phase, although it does feel a lot like addiction. There had been many incidents in the past where me and my frens would drive for hours just to devour a zinger burger at the local KFC joint. How can one tell the difference between an addiction and a passing craze? This is how I figure it out. Masked gun men armed with AK-47s grabs me by the hair and gives me an option. My life or KFC burger. I would definitely go for my life. But if the choice is between my life and the juiciest, tamarind and jhaal and chaat masala dressed, mouth watering scrumptious puchhkas, I fear I might go for the latter!

Flirting is another thing I feel most people are addicted to, if they have been doing it many times before. As for me, I seriously feel flirting is embedded deep within my genes by now. By flirting, I am not necessarily talking about casual sex talks, that leads to brief necking n pecking, that in turn leads to uncensored action under the bed sheet (or on the back seat of your car or in the bathroom of a night club, which ever you prefer). Clean flirtatious fun. When I broke up with “N”, I was on the worst rebound of my lifetime. Flirted like a wild beast on heat, yet afraid of any commitments that came along my way. Now that I am once again sane, and in a very serious committed relationship, I still find it a bit hard to let go of old habits. I mean, I don’t cheat on my girl. No way Jose. But there are times when I am hanging out with my girl’s girlfriends and suddenly I am like teasing them flirtatiously, like a brief compliment or a dirty joke sandwiched in the conversation… They are all harmless ofcourse, but sometimes I wonder why I do it. When Eve n I started becoming serious, a very close fren of mine in B’lore “M” who is now in Mizoram told me, “Once a flirt, always a flirt”. I argued with her saying I know myself well and that I will never hurt Eve. It was then that she told me something that will forever stick to my head. “Flirting need not be necessarily about cheating. You have the habit of replying to every god-damned thing that others say in your own sweet but smart-assed way. That’s one of the reasons why people love to hang out with you coz you make them laugh. And you understand women really well compared to most guys, which makes you say all the right things at the right time.” Ok ok I am blowing my own trumpet way beyond the legal limit. But I swear those were her exact words. Gentleman promise! (ok, I don’t know what that means. It’s what my girlfriend taught me recently, and it’s supposed to mean something like a promise guys should never break. Never heard of that term before. I think its some North-Indian lingo coz after all she’s from Delhi) its like how Chandler Bing finds it really hard to let go of an occasion to let a smart comment pass.

Apart from all these, I think there are a couple of other things I am really addicted to. But let’s save that for another day. I am dying to hear what all you viewers are addicted to. Could be anything right from a cartoon network channel to a hindi kasauti soap. Do let me know so that we can have a good discussion regarding it. Ciao.

Chp 56. Mizo Nite Bummer

Does being rebellious mean that one must rebel about anything?

Well believe me, I have no intention of speaking out against our Bangalore Mizo community, but I really could not let this one pass.

Last nite we had our first Mizo culturals after a gap of 4 years. It was conducted by the MSA (Mizo Students Association) and not the BMA (Bangalore Mizo Association) as most Mizos perceive it to be.

Check out http://www.bangaloremizo.org the people there claimed the function was a big success. From my point of view, all I can say is huh???

Let us just backtrack a bit and look at the entire building up process of this event. According to a certain unnamed source (who may or may not be reliable), the MSA was formed a couple of months ago after some of the students protested that the BMA is not doing enough for the Mizo students (There is a huge Mizo population in the employment sector) and that with the number of Mizos in Bangalore reaching close to a thousand or more, they felt that the BMA alone cannot look after everyone. Hence a new association specially dedicated to the students was created. Ofcourse it will never be as powerful as the DMZP (Delhi Mizo Zirlai Pawl) but atleast it is a good initiative.

Many BMA and BMCF (Bangalore Mizo Christian Fellowship) officials objected to this but anyway the notion was passed and a new Organization was formed. And to gain publicity and recognition, MSA decided to conduct a Mizo Nite here in Bangalore. But it wasn’t politically correct to call it a “Mizo Nite” so it was changed to “Chapchar Kut”. Chapchar Kut is a harvest festival of my State, similar to Onam and Pongal, which is celebrated with much pomp and gaiety back home.

So, various students all over Bangalore started practicing and preparing for this grand event. Bangalore is lucky to have a couple of celebrities like pop singer Mami Varte and gospel singers Nunu-i and Zorina Pautu studying here, who are extremely famous all over Mizoram (and maybe the North-east). And apart from that, there are also many amazing guitarists playing for various bands in Bangalore. And to top all these, Michael M.Sailo, the hottest rap artist in North-east was invited as a celebrity guest.

A couple of my frens were really busy with the publicity, going from one part of town to the other with posters and tickets. I was also assigned 10 tickets to sell to my IIM frens. But unfortunately, only Amol, Tommy, Anand, Nitya and Anita could make it. Monu, Shubha, Ankita, Amra etc all had one more exam on the 1st of March.

Anyway, the first sign that the function was doomed to flop was the fact that it was held on 28th of Feb 2006. A freaking weekday! Many Mizos had to take leave from their work and a couple of Mizos from Chennai, Mysore, Mandya etc who were planning to come for this occasion had to cancel it. And why was it held on a Tuesday? Because it was the only day our chief guest, Dr. R.Lalthangliana, the Hon. Minister of Education of Mizoram, could be free.

And so time came n went. 27th Feb. The eve of our function.

Phillia was participating in the fashion event and needed to go shopping. I had the car with me because the previous day I went to Church with Teii, Zorini, Saii etc followed by MSTa’s farewell party and since Amol and the rest were busy with their final exams at IIM, nobody was utilizing the car. So I went shopping with Phillia and her mom, bought earrings that will match the gown she’s going to wear (which we searched for nearly two hours! Women!), and finally dropped them back. After that I picked up Arimteii and Somteii from Lifestyle, and went to Vasant Nagar to pick up, guess who? Michael M.Sailo!

I was like his special entourage! (Actually, more like a chauffeur). I had to take him to the special dinner function at Koromangala conducted by the MSA. The other guests and all the office bearers of MSA will be there.

So I reached Vasant Nagar and Arimteii went inside to call Michael. I waited by the car like a good puppy pet. Man, when Michael came out, his first reaction was, hey where have we met before? I was like, what the fuck, he remembers me! Actually we met once on Christmas day 2005. I was in the hospital visiting my niece who was down with meningitis. Michael n his bro came and paid a visit to the Children’s ward with sweets etc and it was a brief intro. And here he was, recognizing me. How cool is that!

So I took Michael to our destination. He was a really nice guy. We talked about hiphop and Bangalore life. One thing that I have noticed: Most mizos, if they know a little bit about a certain celebrity or person, like if they have met him once or twice or talk to him, they always act as if they know that person so well, as if they grew up with that person and have been through many things together… well, I ain’t one of those people. Here sitting in my car, was Michael, a celebrity I really admire, and yet a complete stranger to me.

Anyway, when we reached our destination, the entire Ramthar Veng Cultural Troupe was already there. We had a brief introduction, get-to-know-each-other thingie, followed by a grand buffet dinner. After dinner, I dropped Michael at Forum coz he said he had to meet “somebody”. We were all curious as Hell to find out who this somebody is And then I took Arimteii, Thaari, Shirley, Esther and Puia to the airport to welcome our honourable Chief Guest who was supposed to arrive at 10pm that night. The other guys came in a couple of bikes.

We were all waiting for him with a welcome banner, bouquet etc, when we learnt his flight was delayed! Aaargh. Just as any other normal mizo would do, we just huddled together and cracked jokes to pass time. Somebody came up with a “hur mu keh” joke which everybody used over n over again. We really had good fun. Hriatpuia and somebody got engaged in a cock-fight and people around us stared at us, after all it was 1am in the middle of the airport. LoLz.

Finally Dr. R.Lalthangliana arrived around 1:40am. We shook hands with him, had a brief moment of speech making and gratitude for waiting for him this late. And then he left in his official State car. I dropped everybody back and reached home around 2:30am. Was completely exhausted.

The next day, D-Day, woke up at 9, picked up Phillia and took her to Mami’s place. Mami Kawlhring is one of the designers who were supposed to perform that day. Since she was the senior most mizo designer in Bangalore, she had the luxury of using the hottest mizos as models. From her place, I transported Mami and her models to the event location. St.John’s Auditorium, Koromangala. And then I went to IIM to pick up my frens.

We reached the venue around 7pm. The event has just started. When we entered the hall, Mami Varte was performing. Tommy loved her voice. Who wudn’t? We found a place to sit, and I was glad everything was going on so well. Until our Chief Guest came on stage and blew up everything.

He started his speech with “Since there are only 10% non-mizos here, I will make 10% of my speech in English and the rest in Mizo”. I mean, what the *beep* was that????? He’s not only insulting my non-mizo frens and all the other non-mizos present that nite, does he also mean to imply that 90% of those present who are mizos, don’t understand English???? Yeah maybe he was trying to win the hearts of the mizos by being patriotic to the mizo language. But duh! This is Bangalore, not Mizoram. Plus many of us invited our non-mizo frens so that they can learn about our culture and traditional dances etc (and also because the MSA need to get back some amount of cash for all their expenditure). What’s the point if the medium is in mizo? And our honourable Minister spoke n spoke n spoke for nearly an hour in mizo. Amol and Tommy slept and I am sure many of the people that night, non-mizos and mizos, found it extremely boring. No offence dear Minister, but sometimes, one must adjust to the surroundings accordingly. That marathon speech of yours really put off the mood of most of the guests. Later when Mr.Sangliana came on stage, he asked the audience how many didn’t understand mizo, and nearly 50% raised their hands. So he spoke in English. See, that is exactly the reason why he is elected as an MP in Bangalore while the only place you’ll ever find recognition is in Mizoram. No offence intended.

Nunu-i and Zorina Pautu sang in Mizo. Wasn’t a great hit among the non-mizos but never-the-less it was much better than a 1 hour long speech in mizo. The Cheraw and Chawnglaizawng dances performed by the Cultural troupe kinda really made the audience sit up and watch in amazement. Sammy’s martial arts performance was a big hit among the non-mizos. Everybody was awestruck by his raw talent. The same goes to Michael M.Sailo who always managed to pump up the crowd. The greatest hit that night was the Fashion show. Three great designers, back to back, showing off their creations one after the other, using the hottest mizo girls in Bangalore as their models. Everybody just loved that. But one rotten apple is enough to spoil the whole basket. If only the speech had been shorter or in English…

During the break, my frens and I went to Tamarind and Enigma which is located just a stone’s throw away from the venue. After that, I guess I was completely pissed off for some strange reasons, and decided to go back to IIM campus with my frens. But later changed my mind coz going back from campus to home the next day seems an arduous task. I really needed some time alone that night. Personal reasons.

Thus ended our much talked about “Chapchar Kut” nite. To some people, I guess all the sacrifices they made for this event paid off, while others were disgruntled a bit. Even though there were many rooms for improvement when it comes to organizing, I guess over all it wasn’t such a bad event, considering the fact that the entire event was handled by the student community. Kudos to them, especially Nu Rini (Senior Advisor), Thamawia (President), Samuel (General Secretary), Puia (Asst GS), Arimteii (Treasurer), Shirley (Asst Treasurer), Thaari (Secy, Information n Publicity), Atea (Secy, Cultural, Games n Sports), Esther (Secy, Fund raising) and other executive members like Papari, Robert, Terence, BZi, Jennifer, JKa, David, Dana, Isaac, Mimi, Zawmpuii etc…

Hoping to see another “Chapchar Kut” next year.

Chp 55. Racial Ponder

I was typing a reply to Matt’s excellent comment on my previous post when I realized it was growing longer n longer every passing hour. Hence I decided to publish it as an entire new post as it contained different substances not necessarily related to what Matt had pointed out. Given below is the reply I initially meant to post as a comment.

Dear Matt,

As I promised, here I am back with a few cents to contribute... First and foremost, I completely agree with you on the whole gender issue. All over the World it is an unfortunate occurrence that a man who sleeps around a lot is considered "Da Man" while a woman who does the same thing is labeled a whore. My apologies for unfairly generalizing the fairer sex. I guess this notion is deeply rooted in some of our minds because of the assumption that a man is ever ready to take off his pants while a woman isn’t. And when a women does take her pants/skirt off all the time, then it is automatically assumed that she is not normal, that something is wrong with her… hence the slut label.

Well, during my party days, I once went to this Pub on Residency Road called Spinz. Amazing place… and the crowd had a good mix of Mainland Indians, NE and foreigners. Well, I met a couple of mizo girls I know and it was all like a casual hi and stuff. I was with my mizo fren (who, believe it or not, is now my current roomie) and his girlfren. As the party reached its peak, there was this one mizo girl (who I shall not name) who got a bit high and suddenly started smooching everyone around her. And most of these guys happily accepted her advances and seriously, it was a very bad scene. My fren and I, even though we got no rights to interfere, were embarrassed about her behaviour and tried stopping her. Instead she pushed us away. I mean, seriously, here we are, a group of frens happily contented with ourselves and who shouldn’t be affected by the behavior of someone we hardly know. And yet deep down inside why are we concerned about her action?

I guess this once again has a lot to do with the whole tribe and small community thingie. And being a minority, we are subjected to a much more harsher stereotyping than the majority. I still remember when I was in school, I was a House Captain. One day, I couldn’t take it any longer and went up to the Principal and these were my exact words. “Bro (as in a catholic brother, that is how we refer to them here in India), why is it that when Asif or Ajay breaks a rule, people say Asif or Ajay did it. But when Stephen or Puia (who were my Mizo classmates) break a rule, people say a mizo guy did it? I mean everyone knows these two by name, and yet, why are we always given the mizo tag? I have never seen our Principal more uncomfortable than that. It was on that day that I finally faced what reality was really like. Throughout my childhood, my school, Montfort, a residential boarding school, has shielded me from all these harsh realities. It was on that day that I finally came out of my cocoon.

A couple of years ago, one of my frens threw a big party in TGIF, the one on Airport road, B’lore. I was the only person with a mongoloid character in that group of ours. The guys blew a lot of money, bought tequila by the bottle, and ended up misbehaving big time. Yes I know it was very embarrassing even though we had a blast. And till today, I dare not step inside TGIF. Now the next morning a fren of mine called me up and asked me if I had created a scene at TGIF the previous day since he knew about my party plans with my frens there. With a pounding hangover in my head, I meekly confessed and asked him how in the hell did he know about it. Its seems some people he knew were there at TGIF that same nite and they told him “A group of guys and a chinky were completely sloshed and started giving each other wedgies right there in the middle of the Pub until the Management had to kick them out”. There, the chinky label once again.

Sometimes oppression can really change the character of a person and the way he or she thinks. Similarly, so does stereotyping. A very close fren of mine, Pawan, wrote a testimonial on my orkut community page… “Kima is a blah blah blah…Dude...I have to sandwich this...one flaw that u have...you care too much about what other people think about you!!”. Well, this has never occurred to me, but yes, I just realized I really am. The other day during my times in Hyderabad, I was with another very good fren Jason, a tam. We decided to eat out. We came across this really posh restaurant and decided to check it out. And I immediately said Hell no, I aint stepping in there. He asked why and I said, look we are in our shorts and sleeveless and chappals while every person in there look like some big shot CEO in his business suit. His immediate reaction was “Kima you are so fucking vain!”. Ouch that hurts. But seriously it is so true. Why have I become this person I never used to be?

Could this be the reason why we mizos as a whole are so concerned about the way we dress up and groom ourselves? This has always been the Universal question every time I am with my non-chinky frens. They always ask me why we take so much longer to get ready than most Mainland Indians (Comon Amra, Ankita, Shubha etc, just because I take longer than you girls to get ready doesn’t mean all mizo guys are like me.) and why we always seem to over-dress for every little outing. Ofcourse there are some people from the NE who truly don’t care about their appearance but yeah, most people from the North-east do take that extra mile when it comes to dressing up for an occasion. I did a little bit of bio-technology after school and I am pretty damn sure the adenine or guanine or cytosine or whateva do not have any genetic DNA coding for a dress code. It is something that is inborn in us. The real question is why? We used to be head-hunters for Christ’s sake, dressed only in a thin film of animal skin or handcrafted cloth wrapped around our private parts. And yet suddenly, we are now transformed into this much western oriented citizens wearing the latest hiphop attire or Paris fashion house products. Why this sudden transmogrification?

Are we ashamed of our past, the way we used to dress up? Or are we plain perturbed about the fact that Mainland Indians might make fun of us?

Anyway Matt, I believe I am diverting a lot from the topic we initially discussed. The point I am trying to make is, sometimes, what happens around us everyday really affects the way we think and percept things. And most of the time, we never know about this change within us because everything happens at the sub-conscious level.

Take for example, your Hollywood movies. Correct me if I am wrong but isn’t it one of the regulations there in the US to compulsorily use a person of colored origin as one of the characters? And somewhere in a sleepy town in America, a couch potato who spends his entire day watching the idiot box is affected sub-consciously when he sees a black dude save the life of a white dude. Ofcourse this may not reflect the perception of most people, but I am sure atleast a small percentage of viewers have changed their attitude based on such story lines. Similarly, maybe it’s high time the Indian Government does something on the lines of that, like, maybe a tiny representation in Bollywood movies by people from the North-east.

Anyway, what I am trying to point out is that, it is not that easy to change the mindset of people who have lived through decades of strong cultural and traditional norms. That is why I pointed out that no amount of social revolution will ever uproot the practice of identification and segregation from our system. Yes I now admit using the word “never” may be a bit too strong, but that is what it feels like for some of us. African Americans marched under the banner of solidarity and shouted slogans such as “We shall over come”. It worked. But that does not necessarily mean that other countries will follow its footsteps. China is still a communist country after Tiananmen Square and Myanmar is still ruled by the Junta after Aung San Suu Kyi was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize 15 years ago. Similarly here in India, it will take many more years before North-east people are identified as true Indian citizens, with nobody questioning them as to why they look so different or dress up so differently. Look at Raja Ram Mohan Roy for example. He pushed for the abolition of Sati and Child Marriage as early as 1829. Even though he had been quite successful in the Sati department, the practice of child marriage is still very much dominant in present India, and we even have politicians, elected by the people, endorsing such activities.

I guess racial profiling is something that will be always there in our society for a long long time and the best solution to it is to learn how to live with it. All comments are welcomed as usual.

Chapter Interlude: Arsenal 1 Real Madrid 0

Muah ha ha ha!!!!

Its 4 in the morning here in sleepy Bangalore and yet here I am, rejoicing like Hell after just watching my Arsenal beat the crap out of Real Madrid on a precious away score margin of 1-0. Man I've never seen my team play this good. Nevermind the 1 goal difference, the gunners had a hell lot of chances to pump in more goals, if it was not for the brilliant predictions Casillas made. The score line even forced Ramon Lopez to activate an injured Raul who, fortunately for Arsenal, missed a free header that nearly made my blood pressure rise to 250. Arsenal dominated the entire game, and I just hope and pray they play their EPL matches this way too. Kudos Arsenal Kudos. You have definitely made me proud.

Chp 54. Inter-racial relationship

Given below is an article I've just submitted for our BMA (Bangalore Mizo Association) Annual Magazine. I'm sure most of you must be surprised at my standings, but really hope we can look at this maturely and have a good discussion regarding this. Thanx.

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Isn’t it strange how things that happen around you or around people close to you make you ponder on it deeply, and in my case, write an article about it?

This particular article is probably one of the most controversial topics in our Mizo culture. It’s something that every Mizo knows about, but prefers not to talk about in public, especially when they're in the midst of their non-Mizo friends. Before reading any further, I would like to warn you that this is just my personal opinion with no intention of maligning anybody, and would also like to apologize in advance if I have hurt anybody’s sentiments during the course of this article.

Inter-racial relationships.

Aghast! I have just uttered the forbidden word! Such audacity. Surely I must be an exile, banished from the homeland thousands of miles away. Haha fat chance. I believe the right word would be “candour”. I’m just an average Mizo living in Bangalore with lots of Mizo friends, who regularly go to the Mizo Church on Sundays and actively participate in various Mizo activities in Bangalore.

Since time immemorial, we Mizos have always been protective of our women. We are a tribe. No matter how deep Nike, Reebok, Pepsi, cable TV, cellular phones and western music have penetrated our cities, culture and the minds of our youth, deep down inside, we will always be a tribe.

A tribe always looks out for each other. If your brother’s blood is spilled, it is your honour to avenge it. If a woman of your tribe is humiliated, it is your duty to protect her honour and retaliate. Anybody resembling the faintest threat to the existence of one’s tribe is either annihilated or viewed with much skepticism. It’s an immediate call to arms.

And most Mizos still look at Mainland Indians as the aggressor, the evil perpetrator. After all, most of us have been through years of abuses under the Indian Army, journals after journals of absurdly falsified information over-sensationalized by wanna-be journalists who have never even set a foot inside the North-east, days and days of discrimination from the public majority just because of our different looks or customs.

Anyone victimized by such ordeal will definitely look at the World from a completely different perspective. Every little thing that befalls him, he blames it on racism. A bunch of drunken idiots out looking for trouble sees him and roughens him up. Racism. It’s been ages since he asked the waiter for the bill and it hasn't come yet. Racism. A really mean son-of-a-bitch suddenly cuts the queue and stands in front of him. Racism.

From my own experience, I must admit that things are actually never THAT bad. Of course yes there have been many incidents where the balance is skewed purely due to one’s identity, but this is a part of life, and this definitely does not mean that every other little thing that does not work out in my favour is because of racial discrimination. Not every apple in the basket is sour.

Similarly, when a Mainland Indian goes around with a woman of our tribe, our blood pressure rises. How can one sleep with the “enemy”? Treason! Treason! Burn her to the stake!

I've always been struck by why so many of us do not appreciate the fact that a Mizo girl is going around with a non-Mizo. One of the first impressions most people get is that, she’s a slut (Excuse my French). This is due to the fact that there are some girls from the North-east including Mizoram who go to various late night discotheques and pubs and flirt openly with even strangers. If you have a car and money, chances are, you can do almost anything you want with these girls. And this makes the common people stereotype other north-eastern girls into thinking they are there to be picked-up when in fact all they wanted to do is just have nice clean fun at such places.

And there are also many girls, really nice girls, who have genuinely fallen in love with a non-Mizo, not because of the size of his bank account or the number of BMW’s lined up in his garage. We’re talking about true love here. Love is blind and cupid is drunk. His arrows know no such distinction. Where they fall is where love sow.

My dear brothers, do you really think that sitting around that table with your homies and bitching about Mizo girls who have a non-Mizo boyfriend is really going to change anything? Wake up and smell the coffee! I know more Mizo girls with non-Mizo boyfriends than those in a relationship with Mizo guys here in Bangalore. They keep it a secret from people mainly because of the way you tend to judge them and look down upon them as if they are an outcast.

These girls face an enormous amount of pressure from the community. I have met a couple of guys who have met their cousin/friend’s non-Mizo boyfriend/husband and believe me, they are impressed. Instead of talking trash about these people, why don’t we just look at this whole scenario and try to analyze why this is happening.

One of the first reasons is because of our tribe. We Mizos are in a Patriarchal society. Father is the head of the family. The man works and makes a living while the woman does not have any recognition in the society even if she has a more prestigious occupation. Laws are made by men. Executed by the same men. Judge, Jury and Executioner. If the father is not a Mizo, the progeny aren't, legally speaking.

Another reason is, I have noticed the way some of us treat women. Respect would be a word nearly void in our dictionary. We take pride in boasting about how many virgins we've slept with, and yet if a girl is in a lot of relationships, we brand her as a whore from Gomorrah. Most guys just assume that Mizo girls are theirs for keeps. Maybe during the days of Kroll the Cave man. Duh! Today’s Mizo woman is groomed with Cosmo and exposed to a world of glitterati. They are educated, strong and independent. They would occasionally like to be treated to a romantic candle-lit dinner or a walk together in the beach with the waves slowly hitting their feet under the bright moonlight. Times are a changing; either keep up with it or be left behind.

Most urbanized Mainland Indians residing in the Metros (and by this I mean “Vai changkang chin tawh” from an open and liberal family, and not your average roadside romeo or somebody from a conservative background) have been brought up with a sense of respect for women. Be it their mother or sister, they respect them like how the baker Enzo Robutti respects Don Vito Corleone. Whereas in our society, we sometimes make the mistake of taking girls for granted. Sure, it may work out for some women, but the vast majority wants something more than just a boyfriend who will bash up anybody they’re jealous of. They want someone who will genuinely listen to them when they want to talk or just hold them without crossing any boundaries. Someone who will be there for them when they need them the most, and not out drinking with his buddies. Of course I too used to be in the “Bros before Hos” bandwagon, where my loyalty was always with my group of guy friends rather than some girl I've just met at a party. But once you’re in a committed relationship, the better half deserves to get all the attention she can get. Your priorities must be reshuffled.

Yes after reading this far, some of you may rub me off as somebody completely frustrated with our Mizo culture, somebody who encourages inter-racial relationships. This is where you’re wrong. I love my culture and tribe, and I still advice all my friends to get into a relationship with a Mizo. Here is where racism takes a backseat. My advice has nothing to do with one’s race or colour or creed. We, as Indians, live in a society where everything is based on one’s background and caste. India is not the US of A, where multi-racial relationships co-exist harmoniously. No Sir. We still live in the Dark Ages. Wherever one goes, be it North India, South India or NE India, that person always carries his identity tag along with him. That is how things have always been for the past thousand years. No amount of social revolution will uproot the practice of identification and segregation from our system (maybe in the future, but not soon). Mind you, this has nothing to do with discrimination.

Hence when you are not married to your kind, you are cutting off a part of your culture and history. To some, it feels like your entire bloodline ends there abruptly, giving birth to a new line of genes. Maybe that new offspring is much better than the old one, as had been proven medically. Any matured Mizo girl/guy deeply in love with a non-Mizo is definitely well aware of these facts too. But woe is them, for what can they do? Are they willing to sacrifice their happiness just to continue their bloodline with somebody, a Mizo, whom they may not even love as much as their current girlfriend/boyfriend? Well, I've done it once, and believe me, it was not easy at all. I broke up with my Marwari girlfriend mainly because my family was not going to accept her and her family was not going to accept me either. But now, I've found somebody else again, and I've never been this happy in my entire life. Sometimes we think a torn heart will never heal. Believe me, it WILL heal.

And then of course there are the children. Most of these children are brought up in a confused atmosphere, not sure of what their exact identity is. Had it been in the US or Europe, they would easily fit in. But as I've said before, in India, we must all carry our own identity with us, and also whole-heartedly cherish family values. Family background plays a very important role in one’s status and welfare. One area where Mizos and mainland Indians have a lot in common is when it comes to joint families. Even though we as an entire family don’t usually live together like most Mainland Indians, we are extremely close to our relatives. People in the west are more independent, and there are also more cases of family feuds. With such close proximity among family members, children of mixed parents usually feel left out. They frequently become the butt of racial abuses, and what makes things worse is, they get abused from both sides! And all for no fault of theirs. They're usually either unpopular in school or popular for the wrong reasons. A fortune's fool.

And then there is the reservation factor. If one is a pure Mizo by birth-right, that person immediately gets various benefits like State quota where they can get an admission into the best Engineering and Medical colleges in India while a person of mixed birth (read, a half Mizo) will have a lower rank even if he/she scored much higher in the entrance examination. But then I don’t wanna dwell much into this topic as I've never been a strong proponent of reservation. Reservation only makes us weaker as we tend to take things for granted. But then, this is a completely different topic which I will not discuss here.

My last two cents on this whole issue is that, a majority of Mizos who have tied the knot with a non-Mizo reside outside Mizoram for various reasons. And most expatriates usually feel homesick later on in life. A deep inner longing to be back among one’s own people, one’s own brothers and sisters. Sure they are content and satisfied with their current life, but sometimes there is something deep within them that feels so hollow, something that they really miss. Maybe it’s the “bekang” or the “vawk lu bawl”, or the Christmas and New Year feasts, or the “tlawmngaihna”, or the way life seems so normal and simple, or the idyllic sunrise view, or the Church bells chiming across the silent valley on Sundays, or the hilarious Mizo jokes that are not funny when translated in English… There is usually a small speck of unhappiness in their life, though there are those who are content too.

The bottom line is, everybody’s free to do what they want and marry who they love. Love is blind, but unfortunately reality is not. It all depends on how the person decides to weigh the scale. How involved are you going to be with society, with your family, with your community. Yes there are times when such people spend restless nights thinking about the situation, debating about whether to commit further or not, maybe even thinking of an alternative. I for one am speaking from such an experience too. Trust me, it's not easy at all. Unless you have been in a relationship with a non-Mizo before, you won't understand.

And similarly, if somebody, a non Mizo, “stole” the princess of your dreams, don’t bitch about that person. Be fair. If you really want to win her back, go after her with all guns blazing. Don't whine about how she fell for him instead ONLY because he's not a Mizo. Maybe it has nothing to do with race. Maybe it's the way you treated her or the way you ignored her. Woo her like how Don Juan would. Respect her. Worship her. Listen to her. Put your Mizo male ego at the back seat. And believe me, you CAN win her back. As long as you are completely honest and truthful, nothing is difficult. Because deep inside, know that she would probably rather be with a Mizo than a non-Mizo because of all the complications I've stated above.

Thank you and have a nice day.

Ps. I know some of you may disagree with my opinion. Do feel free to contact me if you want to discuss about this. – Kima , phone no. 9845-5-KIMA-5 (that’s 9845-5-5462-5 if you don’t understand).

Disclaimer: My views and opinions are entirely my own and are not influenced by any external pressure, and my views does not necessarily reflect the views of the Editor of Chhinlung Magazine or anybody else related to this magazine.

Chp 53. Skeletons in the Cupboard

I am no fan of the Spice girls (eeeeww), but long long time ago, when my generation first started partying, the hit songs on the boogie floor those days were songs like “Be my lover”, Backstreet boys’ “Get down” and Spice Girl’s “Wannabe”. Hence the lyrics of that particular song kinda stuck to my head. “If you want my future, forget my past”.

Man, how true is this. Think about it, it’s much deeper than you think.

How many times have we judged someone solely on the basis of his/her past? How many times have we said “Oh she used to sleep around back in school, don’t ever get involved with her?” or “Him? He was into LSD n all sort of crazy stuff man while we were slogging for our publics exam, don’t ever trust him”.

Everybody change. That’s what the Human life cycle is all about. But why does our perception about a person we’ve known before seems so hard to change?

When we were young, our hearts were restless and wild. We wanted to experiment on all sort of crazy stuff, after all, that’s what youth is all about. What is youth without curiosity? It would be just a mundane boring dullsville occupied by nerds and geeks of all ages. I’m sure when you were young you must have taken at least a drag from that magical ciggaweed, downed a couple of sleeping pills or painkillers, drank a bottle of cough syrup etc just to see what’s it like, or even switched to higher forms of synthetic or street drugs. The thing is, most of us have been through all these, either in our school or college days. Curiosity is more to blame rather than foolishness. And this is what life is all about.

Recently, a certain celebrity from my community has been ostracized for a certain video that surfaced in public. In that video, she was bare bodied, and yeah, I’m sure every up-to-dated mizo (including me) have downloaded her clip from the net. Sure some of us drooled, while others laughed. But coming back to reality, I’m sure most of us don’t think she deserves to be kicked out from her community. Yeah her boyfren dumped her and yeah her employers fired her. The former I can somewhat understand. I mean, here is a guy who is deeply in love with her and completely honest with her while she goes around shooting sleazy videos behind his back. Must be pretty embarrassing for him. And about her getting fired from her job, well, I guess her employers simply wanted to avoid a controversy. But what rights do the local YMA (read my previous post on YMA, the so called Young Mizo Association) have, to kick her out from her locality? Utter bullshit. This poor girl has now found a shelter in the local Salvation Army Church. Rejected by her own flesh n blood, all she can think of now is an uncertain future.

It is incidents like this that makes my blood simmer slowly. We call ourselves a complete Christian state, the last bastion of Christianity, and yet when it comes to understanding and forgiveness, I’ve never seen anyone more hypocritical than these. How different are we from the Talibans or the communists of the Forbidden City? Jesus preached about showing the other cheek while some of our Church leaders stress on an eye for an eye. Shame on us.

But enough on the religious doctrine of our current system for now. Right now I would like to revert back to what I initially meant to talk about: The strength to trust someone with a clouded past.

At one of the mizo forums where I actively participate, one mizo dude (or dudette) posted that my comments were indeed sympathetic, but in real life, am I ready to do the same thing? Practice what you preach was what she really meant to say. This made me think a lot. Yes, would I be ready to accept anyone regardless of their dark past? It’s really easy to say it out on paper that true love knows no past or mistakes. But just take a moment off and think deeply. The love of your life used to be a hooker before. Will you marry her?

Dilemma. I guess I’ll never know since I’ve never come across anything like that in my life. But right now, all I can do is speak out to the person that what’s past is the past and what one should really concentrate on is the future.

Forget the Past. Build your future.

Chp 52. Kamanahalli

Kamanahalli. Yup that’s my new address.

Kamanahalli, an interesting part of Bangalore… I mean Bengaluru (Damn, I even had to program my Word document to recognize this word).

The first impression I got when I first landed here was, man, this is some really rural shit. But OMG, how wrong I was. Kamanahalli had everything I needed. Right from shopping malls to places where I can buy contact lens solutions. Carpenter shops selling wardrobe, utensils market, mattress shops, hardware outlets, groovy restaurants, electronics shop, you name it, its all here. They even have vigilant night cops (who by the way trashed one of my roomie “Jupiter” coz he was drunk while speeding on a bike). Pork shop, junk food outlets and hundreds of liquor bar, man, this is sheer Heaven!

Its not even 3 weeks since I got here, and I’ve already signed an unwritten mutual tie up with one of the bar owners here. He is willing to sell me a bottle of Old Monk rum for just a mere 115 bucks! Plus a discount of 10% on Jaguar beer if the total cost exceeds 300 bucks. How cool is that!

Our house warming party was a blast. More people than we ever expected turned up. It was one of the best parties I’ve ever had. It went on till 5 in the morning.

And here’s the best part I like about the place. The locality where I live is almost 70-80% Christians. I am not trying to draw a religious line out here, but all my life I’ve been in places where I’ve been waken up at really odd hours in the middle of the night by a nearby Mosque’s prayer blasting on the loudspeaker or can’t sleep in the night because of one of the many Puja celebrations breaking the sound barrier in a nearby field. Here, everything was all peace and quiet.

The only problem is, it’s very difficult to find an auto that’s willing to take me to Kamanahalli from, say Koromangala or even MG Road, especially after sunset, coz they don’t usually find a customer back from here. Hence, if I don’t have any transportation, all I do is stay at home like a desperate housewife. Its fun though, in its own way.

Lots of “small eyes” brothers n sisters reside in this part of the town too. From my frens, I’ve found out these people are Koreans. Have no idea what Koreans of all the people are doing here, but yeah, I’ve seen a lot of them when I go shopping at MBO’s like Nilgiris. It’s really strange but yeah, we can make out if a “chinky” is an Indian or not. Many of my non-“chinky” frens have asked me so many times how I’m able to differentiate such people because “we all look the same”. I dunno how to explain this; I guess u’ll just have to understand. To us, its Childs play to identify which one is from North-east India and who’s from South East Asia.

Anyway, I’m really looking forwards to a swell 3 months here in Kamanahalli. It maybe quite far from the more urban part of Bengaluru, but as long as the Bloody Mary is served with the right content of tomato juice, I don’t mind having it without the glass that is rimmed with celery salt.

Chp 51. The Return of the Kim

Sup everyone. Am finally back on the Blog World. Really feels good to blog again after such a long time. It’s like that feeling you get when you’re a passionate guitarist who gets the feel of a guitar after a really long time because he broke his hand. Man, the vibe. You feeling me? Worddd.

So what have I been up to? Well, I dropped out of IIMB, went home for X’mas n New Year after a gap of ten freaking years, caught up with all my frens back home, met my sister from UK after such a long time, spent some quality time with my 9 years old niece and made my 3 years old niece cry all the time (evil me), and met Evelyn’s folks. Yeah they kinda like me.

Went home and mom immediately nagged me on how big a failure I was and how much money they wasted on me. T’was a very happy family reunion indeed. *smiley* Dad ofcourse wasn’t so hard on me. Mazami too had changed a lot. She’s much more responsible and matured now (not that she wasn’t before). Maybe it’s the fact that she’s earning now n not depending on dad anymore. Lapuii (my eldest sis) on the other hand was still the same. Dinpuii didn’t make it home coz she didn’t have vacations.

Mizoram, ah, the sheer beauty of it. Idyllic sunsets, romantic getaways, serene atmosphere. There truly is no place like home.

Many a times, when people I haven’t seen in a long time (especially the older folks) see me, they exclaim “Oh my God, look how fast he’s grown, it seems like just yesterday when he was a mere baby”. Well, I’ve always thought this was the standard way of greeting somebody you haven’t seen in ages. But when I went home this year, I realized what they said actually made sense. My two lovely nieces. Oh my God, how fast they’ve grown. They walk, frighteningly smart, and are growing bigger n bigger while I seem to be stuck in oblivion.

Strange how kids grow so fast while adulthood seem to last forever. Made me realize, after all this I’m gonna become an old grumpy grandpa that people will show concern only out of pity. Damn, this sux.

Anyway, I had an amazing time back in Mizoram. We had our usual traditional X’mas n NY feast, and ofcourse the regular “getting drunk on local booze”, which gave me the meanest hangover I’ve ever come across. A full bottle of McDowell’s was selling at a price not lower than 800 bucks! What a freaking rip-off, but what can we do. The local booze sux, but beggars cannot be choosers.

And then ofcourse there was the usual “Buh zu” (Rice wine) and “grepe waine” (grape wine). If cottage industry was to be promoted full-scale, I’d say Mizoram wins hands down on fermentation! *GRIN*

Anyway, from now onwards this blog of mine will be updated regularly. Just like two years ago back in Hyderabad, here I am, living all alone. Me, a complete bachelor, once again. But the difference between now and Hyderabad was, when I was in Hyderabad, I was completely miserable from breaking up with my girlfren, whereas now, I am miserably deep in love with the greatest person on Earth. Two miseries, completely opposite to each other.