tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032349864805610902024-03-14T22:47:43.929+05:30Familiar StrangerUnique, but not different, yet Beautiful somehow...Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.comBlogger104125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-22279393984755259412015-03-23T10:36:00.000+05:302015-03-23T10:36:23.635+05:30'Just as I am'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-IN">The other day, I was furiously hunting for
caption for my presentation on the
college Women’s Cell when I overheard a
bunch of my male colleagues talking about being an ‘ideal man’ for girls. One colleague said, “You just have to accept
them just the way they are. Just let them be however they want to be. After
all, every woman wants a man who accepts them just as they are!!”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I was up to my neck with work for the
upcoming program but curiosity got the best of me. And without me realizing it,
that old thinking cap flew out of nowhere and snugly fits itself into my well
groomed-formal- Monday-hair. Statistics and the inspirational speeches on
International Women’s Day flew out of the window as four words kept plaguing my
mind. JUST AS I AM.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">If you ask any girl about her ideal man,
there is one line which you must always brace yourself to hear. “Someone who
accepts me just as I am”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I don’t beg to differ and I’m no rebel
without a cause. But need I wash my dirty linen in public and stress on the
fact that I failed (humiliatingly so!) on a relationship (of five years) with a
person who accepts me ‘just as I am’? </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I was once the starry-eyed girl who dreamt
of finding a man who accepts me ‘just as I am’. But after the relationship
headed for a doom, I buried that girl on wounded knees. Burying her was the best
decision I have made in my life.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Looking back, I never fully blamed the failure
of our relationship on him because the ‘just as I am’ me wasn't someone you
would want to spend the rest of your life with. The ‘just as I am’ me was an 'unnegotiably' proud individual inflicted with the disease of self-righteousness.
Even I would never settle for the ‘just as I am’ me. ‘Just as I am’ refuses to
compromise, refuses to budge or walk in the other person’s shoes. ‘Just as I
am’ refuses to grow up or change for the better because she believes that she
is already the best just as she is. Pride never allows progress with ‘just as I
am’. 'Just as I am' is an island. She's not fit for a relationship. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Wyx6KEeRVoyfWWCG9ssIHUOaaF2vVtUuIDU5_USfkuiFkJgLa9EXvzZOBB6-O1fe9DztQV71YsdQdnfxKsW2e_IIwqVMDW6JAMkpNImcaGMdVew-1BxlfF_oe4GZ0CNidcL9me9rc8c/s1600/6932817460_331fae0c5c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Wyx6KEeRVoyfWWCG9ssIHUOaaF2vVtUuIDU5_USfkuiFkJgLa9EXvzZOBB6-O1fe9DztQV71YsdQdnfxKsW2e_IIwqVMDW6JAMkpNImcaGMdVew-1BxlfF_oe4GZ0CNidcL9me9rc8c/s1600/6932817460_331fae0c5c.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">It takes a fatal heartbreak and hitting
rockbottom to make me realize that I never want to spent the rest of my life
with someone who accepts me ‘just as I am’. Because ‘just as I am’ me has never
been matured enough, responsible enough and selfless enough to be a half of a
whole.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I told myself, if I ever fall in love
again, I would fall for someone who inspires the ‘best I can be’; someone who
will work with me to grow into a better, responsible and a more matured person.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I don’t remember falling ‘head over heels’
in love with my husband. In fact, I don’t remember ‘falling’ ever. I do
remember growing in love with him. In fact, we still are, every day. Each new
day rises with a tiny new reason for me to love him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">My husband deserves my best. He doesn't
deserve a stagnant person who’s hell bent on being accepted ‘just as she
is’. My husband deserves a selfless wife
whose attitude and world is not limited to her ‘queendom’.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I am not perfect ‘just as i am’. I know I’ll
never be; yet I can still work on changing myself for the better. ‘Best
I can be’ accepts that change because she is selfless and matured and is strong
enough to bend with the wind. I’d be ‘best i can be’ anyday.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">‘Best I can be’ is selfless while ‘Just as
I am’ is self centric.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">‘Best I can be’ makes a better half while
‘Just as I am’ makes a bitter half.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKdPJcGIPQSjmqCj8hjO2ApXM0yiAWdKtwJbz_P3KJZG3-huNz8aVOGj_Crgdzds6POrtEkKtWCFNhOpQGVnXihn6gKX9prpzKRoaTS38iBoRuLdycZvLpFoHY2lj5-dBZqprc5NYFJw/s1600/change.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKdPJcGIPQSjmqCj8hjO2ApXM0yiAWdKtwJbz_P3KJZG3-huNz8aVOGj_Crgdzds6POrtEkKtWCFNhOpQGVnXihn6gKX9prpzKRoaTS38iBoRuLdycZvLpFoHY2lj5-dBZqprc5NYFJw/s1600/change.jpg" height="253" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">So I turned to my colleagues and bluntly
told them so. In my opinion, an ideal man is someone who inspires the ‘best I can be’ in any
girl rather than someone who accepts the ‘just as I am’ girl. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">They all look at me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Flabbergasted .</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">A second of eerie silence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Then all of them started speaking at the
same time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“But it doesn’t always work that way”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“You really think so???”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“But you have always been the weird one
with the weird outlook!!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Dang! I should’ve married you instead!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I went back to my laptop. Smug. Nose in the
air.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><span lang="EN-IN">I took the last
comment as a compliment.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Who would you be or who would you choose? </span></div>
</div>
Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-31699274926524886772015-01-12T15:35:00.002+05:302015-01-12T16:02:05.864+05:30Six Months: A Love Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It all started<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> on an icy Delhi morning in January
a couple of years ago. I was up all night praying on the hostel rooftop, my
blanket firmly wrapped around me. My life, at that instant, was in a deep
turmoil. It had been a year after I went through a deep heartbreak and mourning the death of a
relationship that I invested my heart and soul upon. After a year, the mourning still couldn't stop and I still didn't have the strength to pick up my pieces and get on my feet. I had given up entirely on
relationships and it was that morning that I announced my plans to my God. My
prayers were personal and quiet; a deep cry from the depths of a broken soul to
her Maker. It was at that moment when God spoke to me through Genesis 24; a
Promise that God gave me when my skies were dark and gray. I buried the Promise
in my heart while I was staunch on living my whole life as a single woman. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">June, Last year. Seventeen months after God gave me
the Promise. I was waiting for my turn at a job interview at a small town, 5
hours away from home. My life had changed rapidly during the past year. I
packed up my bags and left the city I called home for seven years. I moved back
with my family and spend a year seeking the Lord on what was supposed to be my
next step. I believed God called me for this job – a teaching job in a college
run by the church. My heart has always been for the unreached and I’ve set my
heart to go on a full time mission. But for what reason did God call me for
this job, I didn’t know; I’ve always loved teaching, yet why this town and this
college I didn’t know. The pay isn’t great, I didn’t have family in this town
and my dad was against me moving away from home, yet again. In fact, the
previous evening, I reached Lunglei with a backpack, a phone number of the
parents of an old college friend and a hope soaring in my heart that God will
lead my way. I sat quietly looking around at the other candidates, some
confident and some looking pale and nervous. I prayed quietly, reassuring
myself that nothing will stand in my way if God leads it. There I was, stepping
out in blind faith.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I met the man who would be my husband that evening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">An old friend, knowing I was in town, paid me a
visit and he brought his friend along. Not because he wanted to introduce us,
but because he didn’t have a ride! If you expect sparks to fly or a very
clichéd “Love at first sight”, you’d be deeply disappointed. The only thing I
remembered about him was that he was tall and he wore spects. We however exchanged
phone numbers out of cordiality and never used it or even tried. I left for
home the next day after I got rejected for the job. My dad was happy while my
pride was hurt. I’ve never taken rejection lightly and quietly prepared myself
for the next move, still not understanding why I would get rejected when I was
so sure that it was God himself who led me to that place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The tall person I met
in Lunglei was the very last thing on my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Two weeks later, on a rainy Sunday morning, I
received a phone call from a person who politely told me that the Committee had
decided to open a new post for the very same job I applied for and that they
wanted me to fill the post. God made a way when there seems to be no way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
very next day, I received yet another phone call from the tall person nervously
telling me that God told him during his quiet time the previous night that I am
going to be his wife....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">.....</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I flew into rage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In my anger, told my cousin that I’d reject the job
and that I’d never move to Lunglei. I remember my exact words, “The guts he
has. We met once and he had the nerves to say such things to me. If what he
said is really true, then God will speak to me too. I will never never never be
another case of ‘gospel-blackmail’ ”. In fact, mentally I cancelled all my
plans. Committing myself to another relationship is the very last thing on my
mind. I’ve already accepted the fact that I will be single and spend my days
somewhere in a mission field. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">However during my quiet time two days later, God renewed
the Promise that I buried in my heart a year ago. Genesis 24 came alive. It was
our very own story. At that moment, I knew I was Rebekah – an answer to a
servant’s prayer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">However, God gave me a choice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Then they said,” Let’s call the girl and ask her about
it.” So they called Rebekah and asked her, “Will you go with this man?” Genesis
24:57 <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I stepped out in faith. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This time, it was my turn to make a phone call.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I moved to Lunglei, joined work and he took me to
meet his family. By late October, we were planning a wedding. Both our families
couldn’t be more contented. We met in June, we married in December. And we both
knew without God we would never make a whole. In fact, I believe, this is and will
forever be our biggest strength. Friends often ask me if I've ever doubted him. After all, I knew him for only six months. God created my husband, He made him and He knew him before the beginning of time. Just like He knew me. And God, in all His wisdom, presented a man before me and spoke to both of us. Who am I to say otherwise??? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now, we are making a home in a little white house on
a hill; facing challenges together everyday. We are both imperfect humans. He
has had his past and I have mine. And it’s hardly anything to be proud of. But
we both believe we can overcome our past demons with God on our side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Like I’ve said, I arrived in Lunglei six months ago
believing I heard God’s voice. My bank account was on minimum balance and I had
no one to call my own. Today, I have a husband, a home, a family, a job and
I’ve made this town my home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Two weeks before our wedding, my cousin called me up
and asked what he’s like. I described him as best as I could.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> She squealed
with delight “U Sen, he literally ticked off your list.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“List? What list?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“The list you made back in college on the qualities
you wanted for a partner. I remember you used to pray about it”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I froze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He.Did. Tick.Out.the.List. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrV_dYTUAEiqlDp6JuhVod41M57T30Wt7Pd_3WX2hE0oMxEdORYNo3CtK88fHYqVwsiIfqKYvyPR-GCf55zEhG_eRwhb0YXj3zLKyhkO2AZjp0J270488EqJ0LdsD-41aUOr7pI_etIJ8/s1600/IMG_1084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrV_dYTUAEiqlDp6JuhVod41M57T30Wt7Pd_3WX2hE0oMxEdORYNo3CtK88fHYqVwsiIfqKYvyPR-GCf55zEhG_eRwhb0YXj3zLKyhkO2AZjp0J270488EqJ0LdsD-41aUOr7pI_etIJ8/s1600/IMG_1084.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Allow God to write your story. Most importantly, you
love story. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Believe me, He’s a better Author than you ever will be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-66429255780226655892014-08-13T14:15:00.002+05:302014-08-13T14:15:43.667+05:30From Lunglei, With Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">She smiled at me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Her eyes were brown and a lot darker than
her uniform. Her pigtails were mismatched and she was perched on the back of a
scooter with her brother behind her. Her cheeks were ruddy pink and when she
smiled, her eyes were suddenly transformed into little slits of crescents.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Little did I know that a smile of an unknown
child would make my day!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">It was my usual walk - just a five minute
uphill walk to college. However that day I was tired… I haven’t slept well in
weeks and my sinusitis haven’t been showing mercy. I burnt my hand badly while
cooking that morning and things in the family haven’t been the best with the news
of an old aunt’s demise in Aizawl a few hours before sunrise. Yet, little did I
know that the smile of a little schoolgirl at Falkawn Crossing would make my
day. I smiled to myself as I walked up towards college.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">It’s been a month since I’ve moved to Lunglei,
a little sleepy town down south. After exactly 11 months at home, I am yet on
the move again.I got a job offer from this Christian college and here I am now
in Lunglei, lodging with the family of my best friend in college (who now lives
in Bhutan) and sprinting on my way to work each morning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I love my job. My students have a way of getting through to
this heart and I am so eager to go to work each morning. My colleagues are
wonderful to work with. If I’m not
taking class, I’d bein the library catching up on readings or conversing in the
faculty room with my co-workers, powdering my oily nose or dancing before the
faculty room’s huge mirror which makes my Barbie-like figure look like a
fat-mama joke! (Heh!! I’m kidding! I have a fat mama-like figure anyway! :D )</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXTYA7RfaaCDWBD-yrFpgLtejBC68AaPIPj-2FBhWTxJk3uyzEz_ACghusD9BuzF04bP7WVr7_4u0z3_7VLpJm2G7-6igXNbKwOMysDJ5P5XTJnjSF8SATXowhEarmo9cKqbJVbaRfSI/s1600/Pictures5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXTYA7RfaaCDWBD-yrFpgLtejBC68AaPIPj-2FBhWTxJk3uyzEz_ACghusD9BuzF04bP7WVr7_4u0z3_7VLpJm2G7-6igXNbKwOMysDJ5P5XTJnjSF8SATXowhEarmo9cKqbJVbaRfSI/s1600/Pictures5.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me being me : Fooling around with a skit prop for College Fresher's day!! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">There are so many things I love about this
town. I can’t mention them all. But the fact it’s just five hours away from
home and that traffic is minimal in this town adds up to it. If I ever get
homesick, I can just hop into a cab and go home for a weekend. But I’ve never
resorted to such an act just as yet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">The weather in this town is as
unpredictable as my mood. It’ll be all bright and sunny in the mornings and
then suddenly, it gets dark and rainy in the evenings. Sometimes the fog here at
Lunglei gets me all gloomy, once it starts covering the hills. But most of the
time, I’m thankful that I no longer live in the scorching heat of the Capital. It’s
a bit too humid to my liking at times and the weather here at Lunglei has been
very hard on my skin, my sinus and my bronchi. Why!! I’ve just been diagnosed
with allergic bronchitis yesterday!! But
nonetheless, it’s good for my heart and my soul. <i>Leitlangpui</i> is indeed a ‘Mount
of Transfiguration’ for my physical and emotional being. I am so at peace here
despite my pimples refusing to show mercy!!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0Rf4pXg6Nn33Kiw2E-GIPUtcFkOIaor8nVdgJHMA4h2KIfmJMNgp4C2dLIYmMCPogMZFtB3CXioo-CMHj_9u2bzcPHsb7VCbcy2JDfwRQ98bnCUXHxrpfJV8AhPAcMfCKmqBn2EAI3Y/s1600/photo2064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0Rf4pXg6Nn33Kiw2E-GIPUtcFkOIaor8nVdgJHMA4h2KIfmJMNgp4C2dLIYmMCPogMZFtB3CXioo-CMHj_9u2bzcPHsb7VCbcy2JDfwRQ98bnCUXHxrpfJV8AhPAcMfCKmqBn2EAI3Y/s1600/photo2064.jpg" height="302" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the our Faculty Room. I lodge somewhere down there!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">But love dawns!!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I am seeing someone again... after two and
a half years of refusing to go out on a single date. There were times when
friends and family would try to convince me to meet someone. I would bluntly refuse
saying that I am not ready. After failing miserably in a five year long relationship,
I’ve become a cynic to the matters of the heart. Though I’ve told myself a
number of times that failure, no matter how huge it may be, should not maim me
or leave me an emotional cripple. I guess I never really convinced myself... until
I met him. He’s an imperfect person… a broken person (to be more precise!!) and
we would never complete each other without our “Third Cord” which somehow makes
it all the more better. The good thing about us is that we share the same dreams, the same goals and we speak the same heart language! Let’s just say, the best thing about us is Jesus
Christ.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">God is good.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">A year ago, I was scorching in the heat of
the Capital; house- sitting for a friend’s family for the summer; still licking
the wounds of a broken heart and listening to music whose lyrics sound more
foreign than Greek and Latin to me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">A year later, here I am in Lunglei,
thinking of ways to invent a special umbrella which would keep me dry from the
windy rain; planting squash and pumpkin in the kitchen garden; singing in a
choir led by my all-time-favourite Mizo Gospel composer; wearing boots in
August (because it’s actually cold enough) and meeting new people every day.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">And when things don’t go too well, little
delights appear!!! Like the brown-eyed girl with that smile! God is good!!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">So here’s a bright ‘Hello’ after going off
radar for a long time. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">New Beginnings are beautiful. Indeed!!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">From Lunglei, With Love.</span></div>
</div>
Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-41962901248903526592014-05-19T20:39:00.001+05:302014-05-19T23:13:42.841+05:30Against the Norm: Dreaming in Colours!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We are related by marriage. A very recent one. Her blood married my blood. She is a nice, soft spoken
lady. She wouldn’t even hurt a fly. We were just on a visit to her house when she started “<i>Why don’t you write one of these MPSC exams? You
are a very smart girl. I’m sure you’d get through it with flying colours</i>.”
Since she was genuinely being nice, I decided to be nice to her too. So I
smiled my sweetest, nod my head repetitively and tuned out her voice in my head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Exactly three hours later, I was with my cousin, curled up
in a sofa, balancing my three week-old niece on my knees, and sipping on a cup
of green tea. She was folding blankets when out of the blue, she started “<i>Sen,
why don’t you appear in one of these MPSC exams? It’s so much better than what
you’re planning on doing now”.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She is my cousin. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I grew up with her; fought with her, laughed and cried with
her. I lost sleep over the last three weeks, smelling of breast milk, baby
vomit and baby poop taking care of her newborn. Heck! I even let her pop my
shoulder pimples (TMI much??) She’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a
sister and I know she can handle my worst. So I let the wave wash over me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Go write the exam if you’re so keen on it”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“<i>How can I? I have three kids already. And I’m not as smart
as you are</i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Well, thank you but then, go ask your husband”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“<i>He IS writing the exam</i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Well, good for you”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I was quiet, sipping on my green tea. Being the big sister
that she is, she sensed my inner frown.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“<i>Well, Sen, I’m only saying that because I care about you</i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Thank you very much. But in the future, please do not care
for me in such a way”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I know I was rude. She mumbled to herself</div>
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“<i>You’re so stubborn</i>”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I smirked. Silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>“I’m just saying you should take the exam. You don’t have to
take the job if you don’t want to</i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Then all hell broke loose.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“ 'If I don’t want?', then
how about this? I don’t want to sit for the exam and I don’t want the job. And I
don’t know why I am having this conversation with you. You have a husband and three
kids you can bully regarding career choices, why me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I got up laying the baby back in her crib. She stirred but didn’t
wake up. My cousin glared at me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I’m going home. And I’m not spending the night here. Be
alone with your baby for a night and ponder over what you say in the wee hours
of the morning when the baby wakes you up for a diaper change” I
stormed out sulking as if I’m the most misunderstood person in the world. Drama
Queen much?!! I know it’s only a matter of a few hours before I rush back
into their home to kiss my niece and her squishy cheeks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I am just so sick of such questions or arguments that I even
resorted to airing out my frustrations on my social networking profile. The responses
are hilarious, by the way. And I believe it’s safe to say that I’m not the only
one in our generation who goes through this! Hallelujah… I’m not alone!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There’s exactly one thing that our Mizo parents and their
generation are obsessed about, regarding career choices. “To be an IAS officer”
or “To be an MCS officer”. And children
who get good grades in school are somehow lulled into that career choice. And
not many make it that far!! <i>Hats off to
all those who make it through</i>. It’s a highly respected job, deemed by
society and will definitely give you a very comfortable life… financially. I'm not against the career in general. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But I don’t think there anything wrong with me when I say I
don’t want such a job or any desk-job in general. The nature of the job just
doesn’t entice me. Of course, it’ll have its perks. But I don’t want to give
signatures and move files from one table to another for a living.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I know what I want.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I want to teach. It’s in my blood, I must say, with a high
school teacher as a mother and a grandfather who retired as a primary school teacher. People
who have influenced me in my life have mostly been my teachers and I grew up
admiring teachers both at home and at school. Besides, teaching gives me a deep
sense of satisfaction, self-respect and self-gratification – a sense of feeling
that I’m not wasting away my time and that I’m genuinely helping some young
person open their mind and eyes to the world and the mysteries that comes with
it. I knew my years as a Sunday school teacher were not wasted when my kids
cried and held on to me when I was to relocate. That was something worth
cherishing. I know that taking up a career as a teacher won’t be as
financially lucrative as that of a govt. officer, but isn’t this my life? Am I
not supposed to make my own choices? Good or bad. And suffer the consequences
if I make a bad choice?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Going for overseas missions have always, always been in my
heart. For the past decade, I’ve always suppressed that passion because I’ve
had other priorities. But now, I believe, I’ve set my priorities right. I’m
going back to my first love and my passion. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>. I’ve talked to my dad about it a year ago and
surprisingly, he supported me. And recently whenever I talk to aunts or cousins
about it, no matter how ‘church-going’ or ‘mission-minded’ they may be, the
questions and comments always came back to square one...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What about getting married? Aren’t you dating anyone? Wait,
I have to introduce you to this young man….”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So this means you’ll end up marrying someone from outside
the community?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But then you’ll have to leave home and Aizawl and your Dad?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Are you sure? Don’t take sudden decisions. You can serve
God here in the local church too”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
For a thoroughly impatient person like me, it can get very
frustrating!! I do respect marriage and I wholly believe in it. So much
that I’m definitely not getting married just because I’m scared of being alone
or because everyone I know is getting married. (Which reminds me – a cousin and
a close friend are getting married on the same Thursday on different towns.
DILEMMA!!) I have way too much ego and am way too stubborn for that! I’ll never
settle for anything (or anyone) less than God’s best! And if I’m wrong, allow me to bleed
and suffer the consequences when I’m old, poor and grey and all alone with no
offspring to care for me!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As a Mizo woman, I know that life as a married woman in our
society would be more respected, deemed and more accepted than that of an
unmarried woman; but don’t you dare tell me that an unmarried woman is
incomplete. My completion is in Christ and not in a husband!! (There I go
again! Yeah! **gives oneself a mental high-five** I just couldn’t resist it! :) :) ) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The Psalmist said “<i>As
for the days of our life, they contain seventy years, Or if due to strength,
eighty years</i>…” (Psalms 90:10). On another far end, Chetan Bhagat once said <i>“</i><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"> </span></i></span><i><span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">If we are lucky, we may last another 50 years. And 50 years
is just 2,500 weekends</span></i><span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">” Wait how old am I again?? I don’t even have 1200 weekends
left if I live to be fifty. And I’m a few years shy of half my life if I live to
be 70.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Even
if the Psalms or Chetan Bhagat fail to make a point to you, I don’t believe I
need to clarify on the uncertainty of life itself or how long it's gonna last. Well if I do, then I suggest you take a humbling walk in your local graveyard one fine evening, to see at what age people die with what reasons. </span><span style="background-color: white;">In other words, life is too short. Life is too short to waste it away on
a job you hate. It’s too short to fritter it away denying yourself your passion
and it’s definitely too short to waste it away trying to please other people
and hurting yourself in the process. Remember Dr. Suess’s famous “Those who
mind won’t matter, and those who matter won’t mind”. </span><span style="background-color: white;">I
have just one life to live. And I have no intention of living out the
unfulfilled dreams of my parents or aunts or spend my years attempting to please
all those people who never really mattered anyway. I have a team that I do
listen to… the team of my head, my heart and the word of God.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">So here I am again, after a 1500 word count... I
believe I am created with this head and heart and all the things that happened
in my past, be it good or bad, have helped shaped me into the person I am
today. And this person, today, have dreams… so many dreams. Some never see the
light of day, some got shattered along the way and some are just being born or
taking shape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white;">But I dream in colours.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I
find no sin in being different or refusing to conform to a norm. I’m no heretic
for dreaming in impossibly bright vivid colours. I’m blessed with these colours
and I refuse to let anyone tone down them down or paint them otherwise...</span> </div>
</div>
Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-79624867082220060352014-05-07T15:34:00.000+05:302014-05-07T15:46:45.391+05:30Rainy Days and Untold Stories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I’ve always loved rainy days… especially when I don’t have
to go to work or venture out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I fell in love with steaming mugs of black coffee by foggy
windows. It only gets better when your hair is still wet from the shower and
you are wrapped in a fluffy blanket. Oh how I loved rainy days!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There was a time in my life when the rain inspired me. Back
in Delhi, when it rains I either dance or write. Yep!! I have a ritual whenever
monsoon hits the capital - A rain-dance on the hostel rooftops until I catch a
bad cold. Whenever the sound of rain hits the scorching courtyard, I’d run
outside to smell the freshly-showered wet earth – one of the most pleasant
smells in the world. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Or I’d write.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Rain would always bring out the storyteller in
me. Stories about past, life and love would silently be hummed from my
fingertips to the keyboard in Font Calibri(Body) size 11. Sitting next to a
foggy window with a steaming cup of coffee (or green tea on occasional health
conscious days), words would flow, tunes would suddenly arise in my head and
untold stories would be told.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But those were days of long ago…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I woke up to rain this morning as I snuggled up in my
blanket. (Yes! I wear blankets in May! The perks of living in a hill station.)
After my usual hour with my Maker with a bible on my knee, I sat at my couch
near the window wishing that I’d not waste the rain. It’s too cold for a rain-dance,
and choir competition’s coming up, so I can’t afford to catch a cold. So I took
out my notebook wishing some untold story would materialize. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It didn’t.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
So I guess I zoned out for a good hour until my nephew
knocked on my door to tell me that brunch was served. Yep! I wasted the whole
morning zoning out!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Mornings like this makes me realize how just 8 months and a
change of location have changed me. I hardly write or find the time to write. I
hardly have time to listen to myself or my thoughts! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Church and social activities take so much of my time that
sometimes I can’t find the time to catch up with my nieces. I can forget about
having an ‘alone time’ to reflect on my own!! Believe it or not! I am free only
on Friday evenings but even Fridays are often taken away by meetings. Other
nights are taken by church services, compulsory choir practices and whatnots. I
hope I am not disrespecting or insulting the church or anyone when I say that
church activities have taken a toll on my personal relationship with God…
sadly, for the worse!! I am just so busy and tired from all the running around
that sometimes I can’t find the time to spend with my Maker, talking to Him or
just listening to Him!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And I am thoroughly ashamed to say that there are days when I don’t even
crave for my time with my Maker anymore. It’s like, you are in a relationship with
someone you don’t make the time for, that slowly you realized you are accustomed and sadly, comfortable living your everydays without that person. I
don’t want to be in such a relationship with my Jewish Carpenter!! I have no
one to blame but myself! I’m definitely not trying hard enough!! I have to make
changes!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Sometimes Mizo Christianity disappoints me! A lot! A couple
of weeks ago, we had a Retreat for the Pastorate Choir. (I know, I know… only 8
months in Aizawl and already a member of the Pastorate Choir? I still ask the
question myself!) It embarrasses me to no end that hardly any of the members
have a regular quiet time, my own self included. I wonder, with the ridiculously
little time we spent with our Maker, how can we sing ‘in the Spirit’ or expect
our light to shine?!! We hardly have ‘light’ or take time to light our feeble
little candle to begin with!! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A work colleague once asked me if I know a certain someone
from my church – a very active member of
the Youth and also a member of a renown denominational choir in Aizawl. Then he
added “<i>Down South, we know him as
Zual-Nam-Nileng-a, Zual-zu-heh-a, Zual-‘thih-ka-ngam’-a (Yep! I changed the
name for privacy reasons). Now when I see him on TV with his choir, I can’t
help but judge. I’m a bad person. Ain’t I?</i>?” I didn’t have an answer. I
probably never will…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We have been deceived thoroughly!! And we still allow
ourselves to be deceived. We judge a book by its cover over and over again that
we don’t know how else to view a book! What's worse, we weigh ourselves with the pathetic scale of that same 'book cover logic' that we are so contented as long as we wear our best on Sunday services. And I say again, we have been deceived!! Thoroughly so!!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1v-euiDMrOaU9vMvclljPBZeEUY-LjAh5MNbO69OZPw_SS2HuMtRANQ_7gTmyjQg3fgqD-BCDb6jU72POmzjBJdZfOKnpZ4qs64VgYj5kR8tLphy3PpzaazFZfA8trJ2_BpfCcUAz-U/s1600/photo1752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1v-euiDMrOaU9vMvclljPBZeEUY-LjAh5MNbO69OZPw_SS2HuMtRANQ_7gTmyjQg3fgqD-BCDb6jU72POmzjBJdZfOKnpZ4qs64VgYj5kR8tLphy3PpzaazFZfA8trJ2_BpfCcUAz-U/s1600/photo1752.jpg" height="302" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
I’ve always loved rainy days… especially when I don’t have
to go to work or venture out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I’ve always loved rainy days because rainy days bring out
the storyteller in me. The rain, today, sadly brings out a story of frustration,
of masks worn and the lack of depth and authenticity in our church and in our
Faith.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But there are two sides to every story. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And this is just my side of the story.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
What’s your story?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-74957172481826397562013-10-22T01:55:00.001+05:302013-10-22T01:55:49.027+05:30Forgotten<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Those eyes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Those eyes used to gaze at me with love, but now look at me
without a hint of recognition.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Those hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Those hands held me before I learnt to walk, now hanging
limp and lifeless by her side.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Those lips.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Those lips always curve up in a smile and shower me with
kisses, now frozen, unable to turn on the smile that lights up her face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
How does it feel like to be forgotten?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It feels like dying. Like being killed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Like your existence is wiped away from the world against your
will. Not just from any world. But from the world of someone who loves you and
someone you owe your life to. And the worst thing is that there’s nothing you
can do about it, to claw your way into being remembered or somehow try to
redeem memories of you in that world. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I am always someone in love with life. Yet, somehow I always
have this firm belief that my days are always numbered in my Maker's Hands. And
that when ‘my time’ comes, I will not try to hold on to life. But sitting by
her bedside, holding her hands, calling her, without her having an ounce of
recognition in her eyes, I wanted to fight: fight for my existence in her
memory. I wanted to claim my rightful place in her past and her present. Never in my life had I wished to be remembered. Never in my
life had I wanted so bad to live beyond ‘my time’. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Just a little bit longer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My Ma’s cousin, my other mother, my second mother who was
with the family even before my eldest brother was born; ‘<i>Ka Nu</i>’ we called her.
She was nothing short of a mother to me. Since Ma was a working woman,
she was the one who took care of me, kissed each wound, dressed me, fed me and
clothe me. A single mother, she moved away from our home after her only daughter got
married in a sleepy little town down south. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
May, this year, I was in battling the peak of Delhi heat
when I got a call from my cousin who told me that <i>Ka Nu </i>was sick and that she’s
taking her to Aizawl for medical checkup. A few weeks later, I was informed <i>Ka
Nu </i>had multiple brain tumour and that the doctors told her she doesn’t have long to
live. Treatment wouldn’t work at her condition and her age,
I was told.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The only thing I did when I heard the news was that I got on
my knees and begged God to allow me to meet her and bless her before her time
is up. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
God is good. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Within a couple of months, I underwent numerous changes in
my life. Not a thing was pre-planned. I moved to Aizawl and a month later, I
was on a bumpy road towards the southern part of the state.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It was raining when I
reached the town. And though it was September, dark rain clouds hovered with
mists fogging up the town. And to make it worse, the whole town was out of electricity!! It felt as if the universe knew what sort of emotional state I was in
and conspired to make sure I stayed in that state.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I reached her bedside, held her hand and whispered “<i>Nu, ka
lo thleng tawh asin!</i>”. Her eyes look at me without an ounce of recognition. My
cousin called out to her, “<i>Nu, hei Senmami a lo thleng asin. I koh I koh thin
kha</i>!”. No response as she stared at me. Fresh tears spilt on my cheeks as I
cried. It was guttural, it was a heartbreaking sob triggered by the pain that
has been knitting inside my core for so long. I didn’t care who was there,
there was no room for etiquette. And as I sat by her bed, staring at the lifeless
limp body, frozen by stroke; a fresh doze of emotions shot through my heart. It
was a mixture of happiness to just see her and pain to see her in such a
condition. Don't get me wrong! I had my silent "thank yous" to my Father that he granted my wish. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But to be forgotten by the woman who raised you… the pain
was magnificent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Right at that moment, all I wanted and all I wished was to
be remembered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Sometimes, when you wish for something that bad, you start a
‘make-believe’ world. Just half an hour by her side, I started creating my make
believe world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I would like to believe that every squeeze of her hands
tells me that she’s glad to see me, that she missed me; that I make her proud
every single day. I would like to believe that every blank flicker of her eyes
tells me that she loves me; that she’s happy that I came; that she remembers
every memory that we’d made together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I would like to believe that though the words are missing,
though there isn’t a flicker of recognition in her eyes, somewhere behind the
thick clouds that cover her, there is still that woman who raised me into the
person that I am today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And though I can’t see from the other end of the view,
though I don’t know what it feels like to forget, there’s one thing I refuse to
accept. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I refuse to be forgotten. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And I refuse to give up the fight until I am remembered...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1sGiz5W4bWDMot9vAWu9tRf-r3kCXWGnwP5bzqpryOalWFWScYgBuep8jZPkq3iFtlwkpv_aYLIuw90TD3pYo4OdgB-dVbe4FDgk0YChyl9bXH59PldOz81pXWS-6O996WNyBRbcM6E/s1600/photo0862.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1sGiz5W4bWDMot9vAWu9tRf-r3kCXWGnwP5bzqpryOalWFWScYgBuep8jZPkq3iFtlwkpv_aYLIuw90TD3pYo4OdgB-dVbe4FDgk0YChyl9bXH59PldOz81pXWS-6O996WNyBRbcM6E/s320/photo0862.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-33152581886663795332013-05-21T16:07:00.001+05:302013-05-21T16:07:32.945+05:30Dear Zac<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Dear Zac,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I know we’ve never met and but I’ve known you from what
other people have talked about. I don’t know when we will meet, but I know that
one day, I will meet you and there are so many things I need to ask you. But
until then, this letter will do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Last weekend, I was at a cell meeting with my group of
teenagers where we were talking about you and that one encounter you had. Zac,
I’ve heard about you millions of times and I’m sorry I haven’t paid enough
attention. I just realized today as we were talking about you that there are so
many things I could learn from you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I’ll be honest here, I hope you don’t get hurt. But Zac, my
mother, I remembered was the first person who told me about you. And I never
liked you from the start. First of all, I never liked short men. (Hehe!! It’s
just a personal preference!) And secondly, I don’t like corrupted people who
grew rich from cheating other people. My mother told me that you were that kind
of person. And just that thought of you climbing a tree was downright…
unattractive, I must say. So, I guess it’s safe to say that I never really admired
you, or liked you. And after that encounter you had with God, she told me you
changed, but doesn’t everyone?? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But last week, while we were talking about you, I
rediscovered so many things about you. There were so many things about you that
I never really cared to look: the efforts you made, your rock-hard
determination and your proactive ways. From my talks with my teen cell group, I
guess I’ve come to see you in a different light. I’ve come to admire you and
these past few days, I couldn’t stop thinking about you!! Sheesh!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
How frustrating must it be for you when people refuse to
budge when you wanted to see that one person? Did you stamp your feet and
mutter ‘I am a government official, I deserve some respect’ when the crowd
pushed you to the back that day? What went through your head when you saw that
fig tree? How embarrassing must it be for you to climb that tree among that
crowd? How awkward was climbing a tree with your tonga? By the way, did your
tonga get caught in some branch revealing more than you wanted? (Just curious,
you know. Cause skirts sometimes act that way!) Did someone make fun of you
while you made the attempt to climb that tree? Did you bruise your knees, were
there ants or insects in that tree that bit you while you were on that tree? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I heard, that One
person you tried to see that day didn’t have any plans to stop in your town.
But after seeing you on that tree, he came to have dinner at your house. Well,
that one encounter changed you. And in order to have that one encounter, you
made an effort both mentally and physically. You were determined to see him and
even climbed that fig tree.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Have you heard about Mahasen, the cyclone that was headed
for Mizoram a few days back? Well, the 5/11 Aizawl tragedy and the (then)
impending cyclone had me on the edge of my seat for a few days. I’ve been told
that people back home were fervent in praying, asking God to somehow keep us
from destruction. For the past few days, I have also been lead to have an
intercessory prayer for everyone back home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The D-day arrived and I was relieved to see on my twitter
feed that the cyclone fizzled out before it reached Mizoram and changed its
course. I was thankful then and there and I thank God for answered prayers. But
then there were some people all over social networking sites joking and making
fun of certain things about the cyclone and the prayers. It saddened my heart a
bit to see how we take so many things for granted! Even the supernatural!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Then I remembered you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
God changed His plans because you made an effort. Jesus
never intended to stay in your town, he was just passing by, but because you made such an
effort to meet him, he changed his plans. Likewise, I realized the cyclone
fizzled out because so many people stood in the gap and prayed for deliverance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And it’s not only about the cyclone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It made me realize, if your efforts could make God change
His plans, so can mine! I am a lot like you Zac, and I’m nothing like you at
the same time. But in the end, we are both imperfect people perfected by grace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But there is one mega-huge thing that I should not overlook.
Zac, after you met Jesus, you changed your old ways! Now that is a challenge
that I should take for myself. A self-reflection that I need to carry out
daily: Have I changed after I’ve met Him??<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I hope to meet you one day, and ask you certain questions
face to face! Like how short are you exactly!? Hehe! I’m short too, but I wonder
who, between us, is shorter? Or did you grab some of the fruits and eat them
while you were on that tree? (I would have, if I had been in your place.) Mindless little nothings that would start a good
conversation once we meet. I hope you will have some time for me when we meet
and I hope you don’t have a long queue of people to ask you such questions! But
then again, even there is so, when we finally meet, we will have forever (and I
mean, forever, literally) to talk!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
So until then, Zac, thank
you. You’ve taught me a valuable life lesson. You’ll be in my mind for a long
time to come. But, don’t worry! I don’t have a crush on you. Again, I’m not
attracted to short men! Heh!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Much Respect,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Seni<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
P.S: I hope you don’t mind me calling you Zac. You full name
sounds so ancient and I realized I could never relate to you in person when I
call you Zacchaeus. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>
<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-33407936029972602172013-05-08T00:07:00.000+05:302013-05-08T00:07:31.486+05:30Private Moments<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
flipped over in my bed and let out a sigh. I have been staring at the shadows
dancing in my ceiling for the past two hours. Sleep definitely doesn’t come easy
these days. “An hour before midnight is worth two after” or so they tell me. Somehow
I can force myself to retire by midnight, but going to sleep soon after has
always, always been a fight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">There’s
something really healthy that I have been practicing for this year (my post-<i>Hlimsang </i>stage, heh!). I go to bed early
and I rise with the sun! Yep! I never really knew I was a morning person until a
few months back. I often find myself praying with a smile while my heart leaps
as I watch the sunrise; watch the sky change into different shades of blue;
hear the birds sing with the break of the new day. Oh yes! My favourite
soundtrack to the scene I just mentioned is </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGlTzH9xkXQ" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Phil Wickham's "You're beautiful"</a>.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Lately, I’ve realized that the devotionals I had in the mornings are clearer,
crispier and deeper than those I would have at breakfast hours. When you wake
up to such beautiful mornings, getting through the day with a light hearted-mood
is a breeze.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Lately, I
often catch my contented reflections on windows and moving vehicles. And I have
to say, with His Grace and Mercy, just within a year, I have come a long long
way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Just a
year ago, I was always busy putting on my happy mask while my insides were torn
and shredded. I fooled the world into thinking that I was fine and that I am a
survivor despite suffering from one of the worst heartbreaks and a massive
doldrum in my life. I was always careful
to put on a smile and multiple layers of perkiness and mirth when I am around
other people. But when the day is done, I would drag my heavy feet and my weary
heart to a lonely room that I won’t care to clean for days at the end. I
would lie awake at night, sometimes cry on marathon phonecalls with my dad (the
only person I could show my true colors to), pray while wondering if God ever
heard me at all and wonder if I’d ever get through the night without… dying!! Sleep would somehow catch up with me as the
first ray of light hits my curtains; my day would start an hour past lunch and
the same cycle of a broken girl hiding
behind a happy mask would continue! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But as
cheesy as it may sound… Love heals! </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I fell
in love with a Jewish Carpenter! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Need I
say more?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I no
longer need to prove myself to the world that I am a survivor, that I am strong
and that I don’t need a man in my life. Because I am not! I’m weak and fragile;
I cry when no one is watching; I often swallow a hard lump of hurt when someone
calls me fat or say something shady about my dad. I am massively scared of being
judged and I know that even with all the academic degrees I hold, I am nothing
better than stupid! I am useless in the kitchen and till today, I don’t know
how to build close friendship with girls my age! And all throughout my adult
life, I always longed for that one man who would accept, complete and love me
despite my flaws and imperfections (Yes! Pimples and all). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But,
that deep sense of security that springs out from a heart who knows she is well
loved is something that I have never really experienced before. I realized I
don’t always have to be perfect or strong or smart because I know I am loved
even when I am not so.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A heart
who knows that she is loved no longer spends her nights tossing about worrying
about her tomorrows. A heart who knows she is loved no longer needs to put on
her mask of empty joys and smiles that don’t reach her eyes. A heart who knows she is loved is secure
enough to believe that even if she might never meet a man to love her, she has
already met The Man who completes her being. Instead, her quiet smiles, her
calms and her serene rest springs from her inner joy – the self-realisation of
being loved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But there are nights like this when sleep
don’t come easy while there’s a little voice at the back of your head that
tells you that you have to be up and running by the break of dawn!! But tonight,
I plugged my earphones as I browsed through my phone for some soothing music to
fall asleep to…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But
soothing music and falling asleep were the last thing that happened as I plugged
on my earphones as Chris Rice belted out his <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89j9zHFCxNI">"Smile"</a> in his
perfect warm honey voice. I found myself out of my bed, kicking my sheets away and up on my feet. The
next thing I remember was dancing in the dark, my earphones firmly plugged and my phone steadily held. I no longer need to gaze at the shadows dancing on my ceiling as I become the shadow dancing, hopping and swaying barefeet across my moonlit floor…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Well,
sleep has to wait tonight…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I am
having one of my private moments with my Jewish Carpenter! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-13683250692609384962013-05-05T14:21:00.000+05:302013-05-05T14:21:56.534+05:30...You...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Dancing
with the shadows, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Couldn't
help but face the dark. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Shadowed
Past bruised my heart<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">So
I bruised yours in return!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And
there are times I bled your pride<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Shamed
your name<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Cloud
your fame<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But
all the while you held my hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">They
tell me love, sweet love<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Gives
you fireworks;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Makes
your heart go racing;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Gives
you wings to fly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">They
tell me love, Sweet love<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Feels like falling;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Sweeps you off your feet; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Makes
you want to soar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But,
love is what you showed me...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I
get lost in the shadows,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">You
show me the light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">My
storm blew;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">You
bend quietly till it pasts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">You
held my hand though it bleeds yours;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Wiped
my tears instead of yours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">You’d
rather be the last so I could be the first;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The
dark sky, so my star could shine bright.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">You
gave me hope against hopeless hours;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Forgiveness
through forsaken times;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Gravity
to keep my feet on the ground;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Strength
when my fight is gone!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">So
the next time, they ask me what love is…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">No,
I won’t tell,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I’ll
show them…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">… You...!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">(<i>Found these lines scribbled and tucked away in some random folder. Brings back some really good memories.... Ah!! That feeling of being in love!! </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>I shall miss it terribly...)</i></span></div>
</div>
Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-63885792650473101132013-01-08T18:24:00.000+05:302013-01-08T18:24:32.638+05:30New Hopes and New Years<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Happy New Year.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It took me a whole week in the New Year to update a blog. But this week in the New Year had been so hectic that I hardly have time to sleep. I sleep on an average of 4 hours a day. So naturally, bad skin, pimples, dark circles and swollen face are my badges of honor these days. Not the best way, but indeed a blessed way to start a New Year. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
2012 has been a hard year for me. A very hard year. Heartbreaks, breakups, health problems, family problems, deaths in the family, academic doldrums; I've had them all. I've watched my hopes and dreams crushed without mercy; castles that I've built for years crumbled to dust and carefully laid plans turned to nothing. Prince Charming rode into the sunset without me and I've said goodbye to a dear old Grandpa, who has been a patriarch in the family for decades. My bouts of depressions were sometimes so severe that many times, I feel like giving all up, go home and be a hermit (Ok! I just went overboard there!). But in spite of everything, God had plans for me.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The Mayans were right. At least about me! Heh! 21st December marked a new era in my life. Heh!! I'll let you in the details later...</div>
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So all in all, I'm glad to be here in the New Year with new hopes and dreams. I feel this year will be a good year for me. I'm blessed with new friends and new people in my life (with ages ranging from 21 through 70), people who pray for me when needed and laugh with me when times are good. I've finally learnt how to count my blessing and not my loss. I've also learnt how to let go and forgive myself for the wrongs I've done. Well, who am I not to forgive myself when God does?!</div>
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It's just been a week into the New Year and I'm already making miraculously speedy progress in my research - something which has been collecting cobwebs and mildew for the past year. It has been such a good start to a new year.</div>
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So here's to a Happy New Year, a new year filled with new hopes and new dreams...</div>
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Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-55395196826500209702012-12-26T16:58:00.000+05:302012-12-26T17:11:52.948+05:30Photo Journal: The week leading to Christmas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Merry Christmas everyone, even though I am posting this on the 26th.<br />
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Here I am, all jumbled up in a quilt that came as a Christmas gift from someone I've never met or known before. My little piece of Christmas miracle! I love the little surprises that God tends to throw my way! Yet, I'm tired and physically exhausted from all the activities that I, as a Mizo Christian, am privileged enough to partake during the Christmas season. My throat is sore from all the singing and for the first time in my life, I am sore from dancing in church! Heh!! (Ka hlimsan kum chuan 'exer' ka la tha kher mai!)<br />
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But here's another photo post on my week leading to Christmas.<br />
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Yep! We got lucky! Zama got discharged (on request) after 9 days at the hospital. This was Day 8. Finally a fever-free day after a week. And the first thing he had to do was scrub his face. Call it whatever you want, I still call it vanity!<br />
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Our makeshift Nativity skit at our Sunday School Christmas party during the story-telling hour. The kids came up with their own lines and we had to 'make' baby Jesus from a sweater, wrap it in a t-shirt and draw his face! Heh! The gifts from the three wise men were throw-pillows too! Makeshift skit indeed!<br />
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I should stop embarrassing these two! But clearly, it seems Buata and I are the only ones who could stay awake even out of cordiality. Heh! This time they fell into slumber right in the middle of a 'thingpui senhang' conversation after lunch with an elderly couple. Manners, my dears!!<br />
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Nonetheless! Love you both. Much!!<br />
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My little bakers and their creation of chocolate chip cupcakes! Tastes better than anything I've ever baked. I'm so proud of them distributing their cupcakes to everyone that evening! I should take lessons from them and remember to appreciate all that they have done that evening.<br />
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What's 'zaikhawm' without coffee in papercups??<br />
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Nope, we ain't singing! That's my good friend Ricky and I, leading the Delhi Mizo Christmas Eve Programme at Mizoram House. After lots of songs, prayers and a myriad of special items, we ended the programme with a Midnight mass.</div>
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Need I say more, this next picture sums up the meaning of the season's greetings!</div>
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And I thought I would have more pictures on Christmas day. But I was on my '<i>nuthlawi</i> attire' with <i>puan </i>and flats dancing my way to satisfaction on the <i>zaikhawm</i> dancefloor. What can I say?? It's my<i> hlimsang</i> year! Haih Jish!<br />
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And while uploading this, I thought I'd make do with hostel mess for dinner while everyone back home is at the Christmas feast. But I just got a phonecall with a dinner invitation from a family nearby. I told you so, God and his little surprises! I try to never take anything for granted anymore.</div>
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Merry Christmas again!</div>
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Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-45015871278948104932012-12-18T23:25:00.000+05:302012-12-18T23:38:11.992+05:30Shame<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have often raised voice against sexual violence on women and children, more so recently. If you are a regular at this blog, you would know the kind of emotional turmoil I have been going through the past few months, again because of this same issue. But the current news on the Delhi gang rape left me totally speechless. </div>
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Yesterday, I was at my usual evening classes with S. I came straight for the class from the hospital where I spend Sunday night and I haven't had a peek at the newspaper. While S was working on a comprehension passage, I took a twitter break where I came across feeds on the gang rape. What was more chilling about the news was the details. The incident happened just on my 'neighborhood' on a bus route I often took. And the victim had a male friend with her when they were attacked. I could not help but be slapped on the face with the reality and the close vicinity of the incident. It could have been me!! So many times have I tread that same route with but mostly without male friends. </div>
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I'm not proud to say it, but what can I do, I live in India's Rape Capital. I travel alone most of the time and I am also in research where sometimes I have to stay out late or return to campus late. I often talked about the difficulty of living in a city like Delhi with this 'alien' face. I always make sure I am appropriately dressed; I don't venture out in certain places at certain hours; I only keep close company of people I know well; I do not party, I do not drink and I always make sure I do not mix with 'certain' people at certain hours. If I have to travel alone after dark, I always pick the busiest street and I go out of my way to stay away from big burly <i>autowallahs</i> and pick the puniest ones no matter how much they charge me. All the while I know with all my heart that such precautions are not going to work for long, if rapists run rampant in the city I live in; Delhi Police looks for reasons to blame the victims and law and order turns its head the other way.</div>
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Do I feel safe in Delhi? No. Have I ever felt safe in Delhi? Never. I always tense up when I travel alone in a lonely stretch of road even during daytime. And this evening, I panicked, screamed and ran when a huge van with dark windows slowed down next to me. The driver looked puzzled. It turns out he was asking for directions. Though it was a good hour before sunset, can you really blame me for being jumpy when such news haunts the city? But when I looked at the statistics, I was nauseated. According to the National Crime Records Bureau figures, which document only cases registered with the police, the national capital had 453 cases of rape in 2011. Mumbai, the city with the next highest incidence, had only half this number.</div>
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And all that talk about dress code, Bullshhhhh!! During my first semester in Delhi, I was 'grabbed' at the supposedly 'safe' environment of the the Library an hour after lunch. And I was clad in a full <i>salwar</i> suit, complete with the <i>dupatta</i>. When the campus security reached me, I was already a jumble of nerves and tears. Luckily they nabbed the culprit without asking me weird questions. I vaguely remembered filing an FIR before he was dragged away. I went a couple of times to Patiala House for hearing. I wasn't about to let it go easily. It doesn't matter to me if that person barely grazed my shoulders or tore my <i>salwar</i>, if he can do it in a campus library in daylight, he will do worse in a dark alley at midnight. And that was also my argument to the judge. I hope his stint at Tihar Jail intimidated him to some extent. </div>
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So many times have I taken part in protests against rape and sexual violence against women in the city I lived for the past six years. Had I known, I would have taken part in the protest organised by the JNUSU today. The NDTV crew came, interviewing students on a dhaba in the campus while I went out for evening tea. I was glad to hear that the issue was debated in the Parliament today and that Jaya Bachchan had a breakdown asking the government if it had apologized to the victim's family and the country. Good question Mrs. Bachchan. Respect! </div>
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But what can mere mortals like us do on such grounds. I'm an extremist and God forgive me if the next sentence denotes scant respect for human life. I say send the rapists straight to the gallows (I would love to say 'guillotines'!). My roommate strongly disagrees. She says castration is a better option. Let the rapists live out their life, forced to reflect on their deed every single day of their shameful existence. A few months ago I applauded when the MHIP ( the largest women's organisation in our Christian state) issued a statement saying that child rapists should be forcefully made impotent by castration. Many of my male friends disagreed saying that the MHIP should think again and are too extreme. I say, what is more extreme than rape?? You murder a woman's soul without taking her life.</div>
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I am just too disgusted and angry that so many times have I deleted certain paragraphs from this post because I can't level with my emotions yet. I would love to end this post in a positive note. But forgive me I just can't. Rather I'd end this post with an excerpt from this <a href="http://www.firstpost.com/living/from-the-delhi-police-six-reasons-why-women-deserve-to-be-raped-269957.html">brilliant article</a>.</div>
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..<i>.being a rape victim in India is so much fun. First, you’re humiliated by the cops, then your personal life is put on trial by the media. After a couple of years being ground down by the judicial process, you get your moment in court where you’re expected to recount every detail – and I mean, every detail – in open court. All this only to find that in the great majority of cases, it’s all been for naught because the original investigation was shoddy and flawed. Your assailants go scot-free while you are tarnished for life as “damaged goods” in our enlightened society.</i></div>
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Good going, Delhi!! A city who boasts of its political, intellectual and feudal elites! It's a shame you will be known as 'India's Rape Capital' and rightly so!</div>
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Praying for the victim (who continues fighting for her life as I write), her injured friend and her family!!<br />
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Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-49646437377551030812012-12-14T02:27:00.001+05:302012-12-14T02:29:47.225+05:30Photo Journal: Meanwhile....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I went off radar (for a couple of weeks this time), and was whisked away from the blogosphere by no Prince Charming but by research and a couple of other responsibilities.</div>
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Meanwhile......</div>
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I spent an evening with the sisters watching an rerun of '27 dresses', eating beef roast and lots and lots of green tea.</div>
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The Ravi Zacharias International Ministry (RZIM) held an event in the capital with Ravi Zacharias himself speaking a Christmas message on 'When it's not jingle all the way.' After pulling strings last minute and somehow managing entry passes for the guys and I, we were snugly seated inside Siri Fort. And the showdown happened... Imagine my disappointment when the guys dozed off. I took their pictures carefully. I know, I humiliate people in my blog. A lot. But these two deserved every bit of it!! **Frowny brows**</div>
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So I was making omelettes for my cousins when...<br />
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It's the first time in my life that I came across so many double yolks in one plate. Calories aplenty, dear cousins!!!</div>
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Two of my favorite things this season. An old cap that my Grandma gave me many Christmases ago and this huge huge mug that my dancing partner, Autea gave me for this Christmas...<br />
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Lazy weekends are spent like this. A steaming cup of Orange Spicer and a book that I'm currently studying - Richard Foster's 'Celebration of Discipline'. The book gave me a whole new insight on fasting, prayer and meditation while the Orange Spicer gave me a whole new insight on the word 'relaxing'!<br />
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And this is my Senior Class on Sunday School giving their annual exams. I have 11 names in the register while 9 appeared for exams. One was out of station while the other one suffered from what I call "Rawlthar Ngeng Syndrome" (U Zuali, engmah ka zir lova, thiamlo deuhin ka inexam ngailo!!). I will miss this batch a lot. Two of them are 'graduating' Sunday School this year. This coming Sunday is their 'Graduation party' in Sunday School and from next year they will be joining the service for the adults or 'Inhnuai' as we call them in Sunday School.<br />
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<i>And he looks to the light...</i><br />
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Yep!! That's my good good friend Zama who's admitted in the hospital for chronic typhoid, acute renal failure and liver complications. And whenever I stay the night with him, we have our own 'Kiki'. I already have so many stories to gun him down with once he gets better.<br />
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Get well soon, Mr. Facebook/Twitter Addict!!! And please stay away from social networking at least while you're sick. People don't even believe you're this sick! Heh! :P<br />
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What happened in your 'meanwhile'...??<br />
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Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-52169838654388980532012-12-14T00:49:00.000+05:302012-12-14T00:49:42.918+05:30Not Another Christmas Post...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It all started one blue night in late November. My roommate was out for the night and I was alone; in a Christmas mood and hunting new Christmas songs to download. (Yes, I'm a pirate. Notoriously so!). But I ended up being disappointed. Well, almost every album I downloaded has songs like 'All I want for Christmas' (though I'm partial towards the the Michael Buble version), Frosty The snowman, Santa Claus, Winter wonderland, White Christmas and Blue Christmas (and whatnot colored Christmases) blah blah blah! </div>
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Then a friend of mine (a very good singer) told me to try his favorite Christmas song - 'Tennessee Christmas' where the lyrics go something like </div>
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Another tender Tennessee Christmas, the only Christmas for me </div>
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Where the love circles around us like the gifts around our tree</div>
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Well I know there's more snow up in Colorado than my roof will ever see</div>
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But a tender Tennessee Christmas is the only Christmas for me</div>
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(Yes. I googled the lyrics)</div>
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I went from being disappointed to confused. My first problem is that I've never been to Tennessee (or any other place mentioned in the song), and I can't fall in love with a song where the lyrics are so foreign and removed from my psyche. C'mon, I've never even seen snow yet, to even decide if I would at all love a 'winter wonderland'. (Though I strongly doubt it, my knees already sing every Delhi winter morning.)</div>
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Then my ultimate frustration blew last Monday when the auto that I rode on stopped on a red light. A street vendor came up to me carrying a Santa Claus mask and while coaxing me to buy it, said "<i>Madamji, le lo! Aapke Prabhu hein!" </i>(Take it. It's your god!)</div>
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I'm against Santa Claus. I always have been. I don't blame myself especially after my incident at a certain red light in South Delhi. I grew up in a household where my parents also take care of cousins three times the number of our siblings. Christmas time is always a headache for the earning members of the family. And there was no place (or the finance) to fool us kids with the 'Krismas Putar' story. I consider myself lucky now. Compared to some of my friends who grew up otherwise, Santa Claus never had a place in my heart. (Goodness Gracious, I sound like a Scrooge!) Maybe it's because I felt that Mr. Claus stole all the attention from the King born for the world, especially in the hearts of children.</div>
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A week ago while googling for the Christmas songs, I told my roommate, a Buddhist, how disappointing it is for me when all these songs talk more about the weather and the decorations and Santa Claus rather than Christ and the gospel. That very same evening, while having dinner at a friend's place, a much older friend, a church leader expressed the very same sentiments that I had the whole week long. He quickly added "I must be getting old. I'm so narrow minded". I laughed because he is one of the most broad-minded church leaders I've ever come across.</div>
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Don't get me wrong. I'm not exactly Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes but I've been very particular about the core of Christmas. Yes, Christ Himself. And I feel that all these chart-toppers are a little bit too far off. If I look for a Christmas song, I want something which soothes not only my auditory senses but even my spiritual senses (Am I making sense at all?).</div>
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A week ago, I went for an Advance Christmas Celebration with some friends. The service was good, the programme entertaining and the food delicious. But after, a few of us decided we'll join a group of old ladies singing together in one of their homes. We ended up singing and praying the whole night. </div>
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The next morning, on our way back to campus, I realized I hunted for the Christmas songs that I wanted in the wrong place. The Christmas spirit that I so longed for was not in the chart-topping music or in the decorations and tinsel town.</div>
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The Christmas spirit I longed for has always been in the heart of worship.</div>
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So here's to wishing you 'heartfuls' of the true Christmas Spirit every single day!</div>
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(And I stay away from a picture of a Christmas wreath or of colors red and green. :) )</div>
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Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-35382212431644076002012-11-30T23:58:00.002+05:302012-11-30T23:58:59.872+05:30Photo Journal: My last week of November<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Okay! I admit I do this 'Photo Journal' thing whenever I feel too lazy to blog. Or when I have lots of half-finished write-ups and I don't know which one to complete. Or when I have pictures on my phone that I want to make it look interesting. Or when I have a lost week and I just want to be heard.</div>
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So how would I describe my last week of November??</div>
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One word: Actionless...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3os9HHlexMRWtah_z-2pH70Af7_kjanKLJoSyRxw6f4IHC8m_I_BQSAr38ABXICny1j68ksnHNdQuMjWvlQiHLUmh1gxVM-rM3gwDo2bUoKewpfOFYymc5aqmWCZofj7Wsg1hp6i0oA/s1600/November+in+pictures.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3os9HHlexMRWtah_z-2pH70Af7_kjanKLJoSyRxw6f4IHC8m_I_BQSAr38ABXICny1j68ksnHNdQuMjWvlQiHLUmh1gxVM-rM3gwDo2bUoKewpfOFYymc5aqmWCZofj7Wsg1hp6i0oA/s400/November+in+pictures.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have been hunting around for a good source of Daily Bible Study after I finished my last study. Today, Lydia, a friend from Campus Ministries dropped by and she gave me a link to this page. And I'm geared for a year. Yay! If interested please check out www.lsm.org</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVqTmc882LjyhWNV87QfBxsDuWbPhfWdzVDi_8pdfWWdjWIwad7t139Uyet8gmBI7Dxv-rDj-2Z37wFCAvjBkvwVAo30vX4VPqyPv5c8qnDOzUTWzjSxDi18sSMDCqYjo1IGhhR9bRt4A/s1600/photo0091_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVqTmc882LjyhWNV87QfBxsDuWbPhfWdzVDi_8pdfWWdjWIwad7t139Uyet8gmBI7Dxv-rDj-2Z37wFCAvjBkvwVAo30vX4VPqyPv5c8qnDOzUTWzjSxDi18sSMDCqYjo1IGhhR9bRt4A/s400/photo0091_001.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">They're not new books. I know. And I've read them all; borrowed them from this friend or that friend over the years. But I finally got around to ordering them. Homeshop18 delivered them the very next day I placed the order!!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOI3a1Lc8K4td3DWlLc57tFZWzQoGw_Zb5P30DveNkeJnAWlTo4k7iig5S_B0V_QKKbAsh0mkXxBwzfQw7A1_cE-tAb-ZXftJ-nKjA5bpq4jn2BD24hW6XizF9skKe6h5bDBsOcuxRNB8/s1600/photo0183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOI3a1Lc8K4td3DWlLc57tFZWzQoGw_Zb5P30DveNkeJnAWlTo4k7iig5S_B0V_QKKbAsh0mkXxBwzfQw7A1_cE-tAb-ZXftJ-nKjA5bpq4jn2BD24hW6XizF9skKe6h5bDBsOcuxRNB8/s400/photo0183.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Two of my three top favorite boys for the season. Hehe!! I have this very bad habit of 'mothering' 'young' people. I should kick the habit . Soon. Hopefully!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOf5Pfbt1kVS7CICqxAutJYFaKC5ORhdm3-1OlX8XQThkhLxvKVxNd-3j5y06huXkCbeReGFTJRzeeTRpzbrJcGi1qajndCZDMOnXJ96k6sbZBa5BX2PACkLj1PQDj4lncDHDjJHwd028/s1600/photo0185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOf5Pfbt1kVS7CICqxAutJYFaKC5ORhdm3-1OlX8XQThkhLxvKVxNd-3j5y06huXkCbeReGFTJRzeeTRpzbrJcGi1qajndCZDMOnXJ96k6sbZBa5BX2PACkLj1PQDj4lncDHDjJHwd028/s640/photo0185.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Last month, I fell off climbing this 10 foot wall. I don't know what's more tragic, me falling off a wall or me climbing a wall at my age!! I'm just lazy, I'd rather climb over a wall than walk for 2 extra kilometers around it. I tore my beloved pair of jeans and sprained an ankle on the fall and since my trusted neighbour, the Color Engkima (aka the Loudspeaker) already moved back to Aizawl, I had to limp for a kilometer and a half to get a tube of Diclofenac gel and a roll of crepe bandage. I swear I was in tears by the time I got to the pharmacy. I don't know if it's because of the pain or if it's because of self-pity. I stayed away from the wall for more than a month.</span></div>
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But, this week, I was ready to climb the wall again. And guess what I saw? Heh! I am loved. By Someone up there or someone from the Construction Company!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprXN5FveP6AwZFKzNM57loc1Lh5NM-kA-y-I0UYyP7yLNvcqy4mUluHl3b7vnYLJLQYhgFeWzn5so5EahiQFQrbuxPFGiRlyA55d8nePMP7vOs_XwLBTKcLUmunhhz11v7_yEGnM0Hc4/s1600/photo0203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprXN5FveP6AwZFKzNM57loc1Lh5NM-kA-y-I0UYyP7yLNvcqy4mUluHl3b7vnYLJLQYhgFeWzn5so5EahiQFQrbuxPFGiRlyA55d8nePMP7vOs_XwLBTKcLUmunhhz11v7_yEGnM0Hc4/s400/photo0203.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I spend my Friday evening with these Dudes. There's a fourth one too, and I'm glad he's not in the picture. Heh! Relax! We were just working on the Kut Souvenir for this year! I know exactly why I'm the only female in the editorial board!! They told me it's because I'm efficient. But I know too well, they want someone whom they can work with as a guy but would still have the opinion and the eye of a girl! Hmmph!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhodx32cFyvBkYBhmWiu6bVgw_cyAIROnQNk9-OyWRKVML1wD7oNJhk4FuP3zgGoArsA6AN3qTDJR-47cQTwCQaMkjh-7i99aWCfNV1SrW2lfBKDsRnQG_uAtxp6XkcNRYLefhwPhHZSg0/s1600/photo0194.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhodx32cFyvBkYBhmWiu6bVgw_cyAIROnQNk9-OyWRKVML1wD7oNJhk4FuP3zgGoArsA6AN3qTDJR-47cQTwCQaMkjh-7i99aWCfNV1SrW2lfBKDsRnQG_uAtxp6XkcNRYLefhwPhHZSg0/s400/photo0194.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">These two cuties kept me company while I took a break in the other room with a mug of green tea. (Health first! Always! Heh!)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgchjZciSssvjKnV6mJ-atr8_tMtwc5n5VOhTI2TglIwapZU5FDAZdkoffKKXJ4Jc_sg1Xfo129i0MOh2ARi5Z4G9rg03xaC1euMTRSBWthaPW_h9sGlTKLb1Po_xdAgfrF4AyffGB2Udw/s1600/photo0197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgchjZciSssvjKnV6mJ-atr8_tMtwc5n5VOhTI2TglIwapZU5FDAZdkoffKKXJ4Jc_sg1Xfo129i0MOh2ARi5Z4G9rg03xaC1euMTRSBWthaPW_h9sGlTKLb1Po_xdAgfrF4AyffGB2Udw/s400/photo0197.jpg" width="363" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm not a dog person. Or an animal person. And I get disgusted when Minky, the pug, tries to lick me! Sorry!! But I'd gladly hug the pug when the cutest lil' thing on the planet wants to cuddle.</span></td></tr>
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There goes my week. How was yours??</div>
Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-82363304214922971692012-11-21T22:57:00.000+05:302012-11-21T23:00:00.864+05:30Stolen Innocence, Justice and the Dilemma of the inbetweens.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN">(Note: I have this post tucked away for more than a month now. I know I tread on hot coals by writing this post. But despite all the
flack and the stones I expected to be thrown my way, I know where I stand.
Though my test may be relatively diminutive, I realized my set of principles
are something no one should or could take away from me.)</span></div>
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<span lang="EN"> I haven't been sleeping well for
more than two months now. Yes, research has a part to play in it. But most
importantly, it was the horrific news I heard on a Sunday evening almost two
months ago. A friend of mine sent me a link to Shillong Post where the
headlines read. "Reverend arrested on charges of rape and molestation of
minors". The contents were more ghastly. Another headlines read, "Six
Children rescued from New Life Home". It was a good hour before I realized
I was sitting in my dark room peering at my phone. I was shaking
the whole hour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">New Life Home has been my home for three years. I have often told people
that I met the Lord during my stay in New Life Home. And Reverend Miller, the
man charged with rape and molestation had been my father-figure and my
spiritual mentor for the happy years I spend at New Life Home. And now to read
this after 6 years, I don't even know how to have a reaction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">I stayed at New Life Home for three years during graduation, two out of
which I was a Girl's Prefect. I was part of the worship team in the church
headed by Uncle Miller and I taught in Sunday School all those three years.
Brought up in a traditional Mizo Baptist church, there were a lot of issues and
questions I had during my spiritual infant years. It was Uncle who guided me
with passages from the Bible and I wouldn't be lying if I say it was Uncle
Miller who taught me to always go back to the scriptures rather than what 'this
evangelist or that evangelist' said. Uncle saw a leader in me even when I
didn't see it in myself. He polished it and helped me shape and structure it
and it was he who taught me how built my principles on the foundations of truth
and justice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">I respected Uncle Miller enormously, but we also had our differences. I was
famous for one thing in New Life Home - my fights with Uncle Miller. And I was
the Prefect. Well, there were a lot of things I didn't like about the way he
handled the mess, the mess workers and drinking water issues. And when it comes
to issues regarding the welfare of the girls, I very often put my foot down and
take a stand against him. When I'm ignored, I just get fiercer in my fight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"> I also admit I'm hot-headed and
stubborn too. The fight I had with him when I was admitted to Bethany Hospital
is one fight that my friends (who were present there) still laugh about it till
today. I had complaints of breathing problem and Uncle had ignored me. I went
to the hospital by myself and when the doctors found out that I had fluid in my
lungs, I was already just too angry with him. So when he came to visit me in
the evening, the volcano erupted. I was later diagnosed with TB when my dad
decided I should be home until I'm cured. But then again, it was Uncle who
stood by me, telling my dad that he'll take care of all my needs and convinced
him to let me stay instead of losing a year of college. I fondly remembered
Uncle Miller dutifully dropping me to the shared cab station to Guwahati, for
my monthly medical trips which lasted for almost a year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">My fights with him weren't always personal though. Once I sprinted up to
his kitchen, when one of the junior girls cried after Uncle scolded her for
getting a phonecall from a boy. Kakuli, between her sniffles, told me that
Uncle asked her what her family will say if she 'gets pregnant' from such
'misconducts'. I specifically remembered me lifting a finger and shouting down
the stairs as I left the kitchen after a heated argument, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span lang="EN">"Getting a phonecall from a boy is not a
misconduct, Uncle. It is biblically proven. And you cannot get pregnant from a
phonecall with a boy. It is technologically proven. Alexander Graham Bell didn’t
invent the telephone for that purpose. Ahoy! Ahoy! Uncle Miller. Don't fill my
girls' heads with stupid ideas"</span></i><span lang="EN">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">I made sure I had my voice selected on pulpit mode. Well, I always had a flare
for drama, and I was close enough with Uncle to irritate his face with my
imaginative feather boa; which I often did on many occasions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">In fact, once he called me "Prefect <i>Phunchiar ber</i>", but then
again he never removed me from my position and kept me in-charge up to the day
I graduated. I have very fond memories of him and I'm friends with his
children. I'm also very fond of Aunty Nimri who took it as her personal duty to
take care of my diet while I was undergoing treatment from TB. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">A couple of days after I got the news, I met up with Athungo, a dear friend
and a senior from New Life Home who also stays here in campus. We were both
hurt and shocked by the news and we needed to talk and console each other. We
laughed through our tears, talked about our days in New Life Home and tried to
figure if the allegations could be true. Were there any signs during our stay?
If there were, what could we have done? There were a lot of regrets and a lot
of questions asked that evening. Most of them, unanswered...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">Since that evening I have been unsuccessfully trying to contact New Life
Home and Uncle Miller. It felt awkward when people here ask me about 'the news
from Shillong' and all I know is what I read from the papers. What the papers
say and what the New Life Alumni say are totally different. Some say Uncle
Miller was framed and that the children were smuggled out and were forced to
say that. But then again, how could seven year olds frame a 65 year-old well
connected, well established pastor?? It just doesn't make sense. And to think
of Uncle Miller being a rapist doesn't make sense either. Again, maybe I'm in
denial. I can't be sure, I'm torn here!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">My ultimate heartbreak came when pictures of Uncle Miller taken to court
surfaced. His head was covered, his frame frail, old and thinner than the way I
remembered, as he was escorted on his way to court by gun trotting security
personnels. Just like the way terrorists and murderers are escorted to court.
And to think that he will be police custody for 10 days for interrogation? I
realized I don't want even my most hated enemy to go through what he went
through. It broke my heart to see him end up like that at such an old age. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">But then again, if you ask me my honest truth. I’m torn. Because I don't
think children lie in such issues. And when they do talk of such incidences, I
think society should lend a ear and act quickly on it. I am no social activist, I'm not a social
worker either, but I say this from the heart because I am a victim of childhood
molestation. There, I said it! Only a couple of my best and most trusted
friends knew about it untill now. Oh!! Seni revealing her ‘painful secret’ in a
blog?? Yes, a couple of times, I’ve talked about it with girls who went through
the same thing I did. But it was always a confidential thing. But now I have a
reason to talk about it from such a platform, because I want to make a point,
and I cannot rest easy until I do so. Sometimes I'm grateful that my mother
went to her grave without knowing about it. I've managed to keep it from my dad
and my brothers till now. But since my brother and some of my cousins read my
blog, I know it'll just be a matter of time until my phone rings with the
question “Who?”. I can't, even in my worst nightmare, even pretend to
comprehend even a glimpse of what a raped victim would go through. I think
it'll be like having your soul murdered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">Our society takes molestation too lightly. When it comes to rape, the issue
may be a bit different, but childhood molestation is more often, than not, neatly
swept under the rug. I guess people think that the children will grow out of
it; parents hope that the children will forget and whispers are quickly hushed
into silence. And more often, than not, the offenders are families and
relatives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">A couple of years ago, when I revealed my painful secret to someone I have
been dating for a few years, he told me, "A lot of girls go through this.
You should not take it too seriously". I stopped then and there. I've
never talked about it with him (or anyone) again until today. Sometimes, I like
to tell myself that he has forgotten all about our short conversation because I
felt foolish that I've let him in on such a painful secret only to be treated
with indifference. I’ve never convinced myself yet. If the educated youth of
our generation have such an attitude, then no wonder the generation before us
hushed everything into silence. But then I wonder, what will the same man say
if the victim is not a girl he dated but his very own daughter??<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">Well, no! How can I not 'take 'it' seriously' when I've lived in denial,
shame and guilt for 16 years of my life? Even till now, in weak moments, pangs
of shame, helplessness and desperation still overcome me. For many years, I
realized, my young mind blocked it away. But to be honest, it was a closed
wound; hardly a scar on the surface but the insides infected and festering with
worms. I was so ashamed of myself that sometimes I tried convincing myself that
it was all a very horrible nightmare which never really happened. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">I couldn't reconcile with myself until I have the strength to assure myself
that I wasn't the one at fault. I
couldn't heal until I had the strength to truly forgive the person who stole my
innocence. It's not easy to do so. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">My ultimate test came when I met him in person. Even after 20 long years, I
shook while I handed him his cup of tea, looked into his eyes and wondered if
he ever realized how much he took from me. He is old and frail now, his eyes
empty and his hands shaking, giving away his years of alcoholic lifestyle. All
those years, I lived my life in shame and helplessness because of this person.
But now, I realized, I'm big and strong and I do not need an apology from him
to have closure and start living a life free of shame, guilt and denial. I sat
there, forgiving him silently in God's name. In the end, healing, redemption
and reconciliation comes only with forgiveness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">But then again, it is a tragedy that many girls never had the chance or the
conviction to take that road of redemption towards freedom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">By now, I hope I give you a gist of why despite my relationship with Uncle
Miller, I believe the girls. A seven year old girl cannot make up stories on
such offense. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">So my final stand is this: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">I may not know the truth. Yet. But even then, I will stand up for truth and
justice irrespective of my personal relations. I know a lot of people back home and especially New Life Alumnis will hate me for saying this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">If any of the allegations are indeed true in this fallen world, I pray that
Uncle Miller will have the strength to admit, repent and face the consequences
of all the wrongs that he had done. I pray he'll have the strength to apologize
to the girls and their families. I pray the girls will get help and I pray
they'll come out of this situation with the least scars possible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">If the allegations are untrue, I pray God will restore and deliver Uncle
Miller from all the hurt, dishonour and humiliation he has gone through, and
most importantly clear his name from such allegations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">I will stand up for Justice irrespective of my personal relationship with
Uncle Miller. I proudly call myself a 'New Life graduate' and if there's one
thing I've learnt in New Life Home, it is to make a stand for truth and justice
against your sentiments, emotions and personal relationships. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">Praying for the Miller family and the girls!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<br /></div>
Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-2871095146032750332012-08-04T15:24:00.000+05:302012-08-04T15:28:47.227+05:30Through his eyes: B for 'Buata'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's all in the eyes of the beholder!!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If only I could see the world through his eyes, life would be more beautiful than it already is.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I met him a few years ago here in Delhi. We attended different universities back then and I used to admire his spirit from a distance. He was a Master's student in JMI and also an active member of the Church Youth. A light hearted young man, you'd often catch him laughing away or in a deep conversation with his friends. I used to look at him and wondered how he could juggle everything with his condition.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
You see, Buata was born blind. ('Visually challenged' might be a politically correct term). He has been tested to be above 95% visually impaired where he retains less than 5% of full sight. But his condition never stopped him from living a full and abundant life.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfT37hUD2G1exnITtvBHll7mOUMLTis7b7ms-2dXAzTI0g_NVhY2TOKYnrJA1niyxQ1DLvxOWOlmjW9X9kyvEZV-mg4Ocz9HvzvpOUk4E7M3GxDKxInHr-iEKLSDZR3HxwffzqO70eNHs/s1600/408808_2704622295516_1125802823_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfT37hUD2G1exnITtvBHll7mOUMLTis7b7ms-2dXAzTI0g_NVhY2TOKYnrJA1niyxQ1DLvxOWOlmjW9X9kyvEZV-mg4Ocz9HvzvpOUk4E7M3GxDKxInHr-iEKLSDZR3HxwffzqO70eNHs/s400/408808_2704622295516_1125802823_n.jpg" width="313" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lalbuatsaiha (B for Buata)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He was born in a little village called Keifang, attended a blind school in up till matriculation, graduated from a regular college and came to the Capital to pursue a Master degree. Recently he completed an MPhil, making history to be the first blind Mizo ever to complete a Master degree and an MPhil. Wait that's still not enough, today he's still working towards a doctorate degree. And to add more feathers to his already colourful crown of glory, he's an executive member in the JNU Christian Fellowship, the Convenor of the JNU Visually Challenged Forum and also the Co-Convenor of the North-East Student's Forum in JNU. Man!!! Some people are just out of this world!<br />
<br /></div>
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</div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But enough praises about his social skills and his academic accomplishments, one thing which makes Buata stands out from the rest of the world is not his diplomatic social skills or his pile of degrees, it's his attitude towards life and himself. I have never met a person (physically challenged or not) who doesn't have self-pity but Buata is one of the few people I know who doesn't dwell on one. Have you ever noticed that with some people you tend to 'not' talk about certain stuffs because you don't want to hurt them or end up in an awkward situation? Well, Buata has a whole new approach to those situations.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It was only a few months after he moved to our campus when I was out at a <i>dhaba </i>for a late night tea. I noticed Buata sitting alone in one of the benches when I approached him and said 'Hi'. His answer totally threw me off balance. He turned around to the direction of my voice, smiled and replied,</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"<i> E... Zuali, Lo thu ve rawh. Zanin chu i van nalh em em ve" </i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>(</i>Zuali, come and sit. You look very good tonight!)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I stopped in my tracks not knowing how to respond when he continued... </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>"Tunlai chu i chhelo hrim hrim, i hmaibawl te hi a zia tawp, i no sur bawk sia"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
(You look good these days, your pimples are showing mercy and you look positively glowing)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And then it hit me that it's one of his ways of breaking ice!! I laughed so hard that night. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Somedays, he'll tell me that I gained weight when I'm in my lightest and just last night, he told me I've lost so much weight (I'm in my heaviest) compared to last year!! And somehow he added "<i>Nikum kha chuan i hnungzang atangin i keh mai dawn amaw tih tur alawm". </i>And we laughed and laughed. C'mon, it's a blind guy saying all that!!!! The irony of it all!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Once I met Buata walking alone at a busstop on my way back from the library, it was an hour past midnight. I called out to him and asked him where he's going. He waved his walking stick at me and hollered "<i>Nula hmeltha deuh ka rim dawn</i>" and walked back into the dark!!<br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
He's quite a venturer. A month after he moved into campus, he knew his way around every <i>dhaba</i>, every school, the library and yes even rides the bus to get to different hostels in campus. On nights when there are some social callings to attend to, we'd pick him up from the busstop nearby his hostel and we'd drop him there on the way back. On some nights when, we'd meet up for dinner, he'd be the first one to pick up the guitar and the whole gang would go screaming, singing and dancing to a familiar chorus of "<i>Pari Zun</i>" or "<i>Tu zunzam nge?". </i>He's way too independent that sometimes I'd totally forget about his condition.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At our picnic last year where he decided he will be the judge of the 'mixed wheelbarrow race' !</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But there's one incident that I witnessed which I will always use to pull his leg...</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A couple of years ago, I saw Buata at North East Night celebrations, being totally dependent and helpless during the function and the dinner afterwards. He needs to be ushered, led by the hand and practically fed (oooOooooh!) and he couldn't take a step by himself. One thing I also noticed was that a very pretty, soft spoken Naga girl was hovering around him, running to his every whim! </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After that we'd tease him mercilessly, saying he knows who has the softest hands or who smells the nicest among all the Naga and Mizo girls in campus! He'd laugh along. But then again, his defenseless laughters are often louder and more boisterous!!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And with questions about the significant other, he's someone who, ironically, often gives hope to the guys here in campus. He'd say that he just needs to find one girl who loves him, not seven. If he had to find seven, he told me once, then he might find it a bit challenging. Well, he wouldn't tell me if there is someone. But last month, he asked me which market in Delhi has the best and most comfortable salwar kameez and last night, while he was hesitantly posing for a picture with me (he didn't like his new haircut), he was on call with a female! Heeee!! </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buata, the player: One girl next to him, another on the line!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's people like Buata who made me believe in the power of the human spirit. It's people like him who makes life beautiful. It's people like him who struggled with hardships and somehow takes it as an easy stride, who reminds me about the beauty in life! And it's people like him who found tiny specks of sunlight in a dark dark cave, who makes me want to find beauty in everything. And most importantly, it's people like him who makes the most of what he's given and who doesn't blame God for the hardships in life but rather find blessings in everything. I'm glad I have met Buata in my life and I'm proud to call him a friend and an inspiration.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If someone like Buata, who hasn't seen the beauty of sunrise and sunset, the greenery of the forests during monsoon or a white lily blooming in the wilderness can have such a no-nonsense, self-pity-free, bright and positive outlook towards life, tell me who cannot??<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At JNU Miho Kut 2011: Packing up from the park to continue with evening programme after dinner. His favourite line that day "<i>Lersia kawmchar zu aia thlum zawk ka rawn phawrh ang".</i></td></tr>
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It's all in the eyes of the beholder. </div>
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Sometimes, those eyes maybe blind, but as long as the person refused to be blind, there's beauty in the world and life is lived abundantly! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His acceptance speech on recieving an Honorary Award from DMZP after he submitted his MPhil Dissertation.</td></tr>
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So here's to Buata, his kickass attitude and a full life which will be abundantly lived!</div>
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Cheers!</div>
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</div>Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-47786722224961002892012-07-28T01:26:00.002+05:302012-07-28T01:27:46.915+05:30Seni at the Dentist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hate is a strong word.... a very strong word. And it precisely describes my feeling when I say... "I hate dentists".</div>
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I hate dentists.</div>
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And I don't really care if you got me wrong. A few of my close friends are dentists. And I like them better when they are not in their clinic. I have too many bad experiences with dentists since I was a child. Well, there was that dentist at Civil Hospital who 'forgot' to give me a Local Anesthesia when he extracted 4 of my lower front teeth altogether. Then there was that dentist who extracted my new teeth instead of my old teeth. And then, there was that Sadistic Monster Dentist from Shillong who refused to use a Local Anesthesia during a Root Canal Treatment even after I've begged him to. That dentist was the cruelest dentist I've ever known. I still feel sick when I remember his face. RCT sessions with him would end up with me half blind from the pain and sleeping in and skipping the hostel devotions the next day. A week into his treatment, I packed my bags and went home to consult another dentist who goes to the same church as I do. She was the only dentist I could somehow force myself to consult, but then she got married and moved abroad.<span style="background-color: white;">I guess I have valid reasons to hate dentists. And I avoid them as much as possible... which is, sometimes, not the smartest thing I've done in life. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Well, today I said goodbye to a tooth. A left lower Number 6 (who cares if I really named it right), it's the really big tooth. I have battled for this tooth for 11 long years. I've had a Root Canal Treatment without a crown which worked for a few years until I cracked it during a </span><i style="background-color: white;">Chhurpi </i><span style="background-color: white;">eating marathon while I was in Bhutan. After that it had been a constant battle to save the tooth in whatever way I can. Let me confess, I was on such a battle because I'm dead scared of tooth extraction. I lost the battle today.</span></div>
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When the doctor told me that we need to extract the tooth, I died a little inside. Partly because I've wasted so much money and have so many memories with it (Wait! Did I make sense at all?), but mostly because I'm scared of the extraction part. I told the doctor straight up that I am scared of extraction and he, in turn, assured me that there'll be no pain. I did not believed a single word he said. Even after he administered the Local Anesthesia, I couldn't put my mind at ease. When he asked me how I'm doing, I told him that I felt sick. I did so. I felt sick in the stomach as if I'm gonna throw up any moment. For the rest of the procedure, I closed my eyes and went to my happy place: playing video games and having babies with Zachary Levi and raising a clan of adorably goofy Hranglung-Levi kids!!</div>
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When I opened my eyes after all the tugging and pulling with the really big pliers, I realized I could still hold my food in, I had only 27 teeth and there was absolutely no pain. I could feel them tugging and pulling and jabbing my jaw, but then was no pain. Thanks to all the LA! Biting on a huge ball of sterilized cotton, I cheekily asked the doctor if I could have my extracted tooth. He laughed and kindly wrapped it for me in a tissue paper which I brought home and will bury it if the tooth fairy decides to give me a miss tonight. Ah! It's just me being me!</div>
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So what's the best thing about going to the dentist today? Well, it's definitely the icecream that follows afterwards. And I'm following doctor's orders. Strictly. :)</div>
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What's the worst thing after? I couldn't taste the blueberry icecream properly with half my tongue still numb from the LA. </div>
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What's worse-est ?? I couldn't eat the authentic <i>Baibing</i> <i>sawh</i> that my aunt prepared for dinner. :(</div>
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On a serious note, Thank you Dr. Rathi for your very generous usage of LA. <span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">'Hate' is a strong word... but after today, maybe it'll be a more precise expression if I say ....</span></div>
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"I dislike dentists".</div>
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(PS: The Local Anesthesia hasn't worn off yet. I might change my 'precise' expression tomorrow) </div>
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</div>Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-70039909498556803002012-07-22T00:21:00.000+05:302012-07-22T00:21:17.568+05:30Photo Journal : A week in pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I must admit, these kind of posts are much much easier... and quicker too. They work great as fill-in posts especially when you've gone M.I.A or are about to, just like me, who might be off for the next few weeks. Sorry, research calling.<br />
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Please do remind me if I go overboard with such posts for I'm still not hip enough to instagram!<br />
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But anyways, my week goes...<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">BabySitting at the Mall: The Little Princess wandering around, getting interested in statement rings and necklaces at Forever 21. Wait! This was only a few minutes before her batteries ran out and she fell asleep in the escalator. Yes, an ESCALATOR!!! Well, she's someone who can fall asleep right in the middle of a Sunday School action song!!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;">Recharging with coke after she refused a frozen yogurt and an ice-cream. Aaaand... she's back to prancing around the stores, chattering about Harry Styles (Harry who????), Korean serials and her favorite colors, pink and purple. And btw, yes, I believe in feeding sugar to kids in 'cases of emergencies' or parties or for Sunday School snacks or breakfast cereals. Heee... I can't be partial to sugar! I might not be a good mom as I would like to be, after all!!</span></div>
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A fresh batch of readings all printed and spiral bounded. Enough to keep me busy for another week! Come on, Hard work!!! Come on, <i>CONCEN!! </i>Haih Jish! My humdrum student life! This is exactly why I complain about my back and shoulders all the time. I should marry a physiotherapist. Any takers?</div>
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A much older friend of mine was showing me his new laptop. ('Much older' because two of his kids have already 'graduated' from our Sunday School, the youngest in the graduating class now) While he was going on an on about the weight, look, color and processor of his new laptop, all I lusted after was all that free memory! Sigh!</div>
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A moment of truth! Who doesn't like Sale Season??? And don't judge, it's the only time that all those mall contents don't look ridiculously expensive and are finally student-budget friendly with their slashed prices. Oh! and btw, don't worry, the shoes are walking different streets in different states in extreme ends of the country.</div>
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And after 27 years, I've finally dared to wear Fuschia ( It's an extravagant shade of pink. For all you color-blind men out there!) You need a lot of confidence to carry off such a color and finally, here I am, gathering all my confidence. On an honest note, it's just a matter of minutes before I eat it all up!! (Note to Self: Lipstick ain't no grub.)<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have a Happy Week ahead!</span></div>
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<br /></div>Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-28460430220817767782012-07-21T22:47:00.000+05:302012-07-21T22:47:29.435+05:30Mindblock: The attack of the 'scumbag brain'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So, it happened to me again...</div>
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I was in line to pay for a ballerina shoe I picked up from a shop in Lajpat Nagar Central Market. I had just dropped by from a meeting in the same locality and had no time to stop by an ATM. I gave my Debit Card to the shopkeeper, and when he told me to punch in my pin, I realized I couldn't remember the four digits! I looked around, my friend was still busy trying on shoes in the very crowded shop. I looked at the shopkeeper again, who, I reckoned, by the time, couldn't make out if I have second thoughts about the shoes or if I suffered from a sudden attack of.... <span style="font-size: xx-small;">constipation</span>!! I smiled and asked if they had any sandal section. He pointed towards the first floor and I quickly escaped, not to try on the sandals but to give myself sometime to recall my pin number.</div>
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Mindblock.</div>
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It happened to me so many times before. But with my ATM pin number, this is the second time. Thankfully this time, I was able to recall the number with the help of a hint sentence I saved in my phone. What's funny is that, just yesterday, I was at the mall and swiping my card the whole afternoon. And then suddenly today... well!!</div>
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The last time my 'scumbag brain' decided to troll me with my ATM pin, I stood in front of an ATM machine, a ridiculously long line behind me and then suddenly, the little consistently turning gears on the back of my head decided to stop. I stood there for a good ten minutes after punching the wrong pin twice; the bald-headed uncle behind me peeped through the glass door, pimple-like sweats beaded his forehead and finally decided to come in. Maybe he thought I needed some assistance. I did... just in ways he can't assist. I quietly left without a word. That was when I decided to come up with my hint sentence which helped me remember the digits, just in case, my brain decides to pull a prank on me again, like today. </div>
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Mindblock!! Hmmm... A mindblock that I've never forgotten happened when I was in Class 9 and I forgot the spelling of 'because' in a Geography exam!!! I couldn't make out if the spelling was 'because' or 'becuase'. I ended up avoiding the word altogether which made my answers very blunt and awkward. Two weeks later, my geography teacher asked me what was wrong with my answers. He told me that I've written all the facts right but my sentence formation was very weird and awkward, that it was as if have no command over the language. There was no better excuse than the truth!!</div>
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Mindblock! Ha... have you ever had instances when you forgot tunes to a song you knew so well!!! I'm no stranger to that either!</div>
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I was 9 when I was asked to sing in Sunday School Special Event. A few weeks before the event, my mother taught me the hymn "Shall we gather at the river" for the school solo competition. I came second place. Imagine our surprise when one evening, my brothers and I were watching a Western Movie (Read: Cowboy Film) and the very same song was sung by the crowd at an execution scene. We decided that I'll sing the same song for the Sunday School Event and my brother Edward and his friend worked for over a week with their acoustic guitars, trying to give me the perfect music for my first ever church solo.</div>
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The day came, I was decked up on stage; Ed and his friend tuned their guitars for a good five minutes and gave me a very grand intro. I sang through the first verse without any glitch, but when I came to the chorus, I forgot the tune. I remembered the words perfectly but then the tune was lost. And I started making up the tune as I sang along. I knew I couldn't just stop because I, unfortunately, have two guitars accompanying me. </div>
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I looked at my mum in the crowd, I could see she was choking with pity. From the corner of my eye, I could see Ed looking up at me, puzzled, all the while trying to keep up with tunes which were clearly getting out of hand. From the other corner, I could see some kids giggling while their teachers told them to be quiet. I wanted to cry. But I sang three verses and make up the tune to the chorus as I sang along. By the time I finished the song, I realized I was sweating and had tears on my cheeks. When I went back to my seat, my mother hugged me and whispered that God would really like my song. When my brother Mama mentioned about the solo over dinner, I cried, a firm hush from my mother quickly followed. The 'solo incident' was almost a taboo in the family.</div>
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Well, we, or rather I have never talked about it again... until this post!!! </div>
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That was definitely <span style="background-color: white;">my worst mindblock till date! I wonder if I'm ever gonna top it! Not that I'm eager to or I'm even trying to! Sometimes, the scumbag brain just randomly decides to go out of its way to put me in a state of inconvenience or worse, humiliate me! </span><span style="background-color: white;">I wonder what I've done to make it decide to!</span></div>
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</div>Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-6263700104600110282012-07-17T02:32:00.000+05:302012-07-17T02:32:48.370+05:30Life so fragile<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white;">Sticky July with all its humidity ain’t no fun in the capital. I waited for more than half an hour and walked more than a kilometre just to hail an </span><i style="background-color: white;">auto</i><span style="background-color: white;">. Every </span><i style="background-color: white;">auto</i><span style="background-color: white;"> I came across would go only at double the price. I haggled, quarrelled and threw a mental punch at one </span><i style="background-color: white;">auto wallah</i><span style="background-color: white;"> who refused to look at me after I named my price. I scolded them with what was left of my atrocious Hindi after a long hard day. I was on my way to Mizoram House for a grievance service of a young girl who passed away in Jalandhar and whose body will be taken back home. I don’t even know the name of the deceased and all I know was that the body will be brought down from Jalandhar that night itself. But such occasions in the Mizo community are something I never want to miss in a place like Delhi.</span></div>
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It was only after I reached Mizoram House that I learned that the deceased was a girl I went to school with, for half of my life. An Army Medical Officer with a Captain rank, she was found dead on her table. She had no previous ailments, no previous complaints of her health. I froze for a good couple of minutes, the only words I could utter “You mean, Melody, ‘our’ Melody, Mary Mount St.Paul’s Melody??”. My old classmate nodded. Apparently it was all over Facebook but I haven't learnt about it as I have been really busy lately, with mountains of work pending and “hospital duties” still in full swing.</div>
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I sat there in the lobby. Quiet. I was alone in a crowd with everyone else buzzing about me...</div>
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The girl I remembered was a tall gawky girl, hair pulled back to a low pony tail (as was the school regulations), a mole on her face, someone who used to have scented pens of various colours and sandwiches for lunch. We haven’t remained in touch for ages but it felt just like yesterday when the whole class was punished for making noise in Class 7, Melody and I knelt face to face, giggling all the while. And that girl is now just a body in the casket, underneath the pile of flowers and tears of family and friends. It all seemed surreal.</div>
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We make plans for the future, running after financial gain, working so hard and not having time to cherish and enjoy the company of our love ones. We all know that death often comes to those who expected the least. It doesn’t leave out the richest or the poorest, the strongest or the sickest, the youngest or the oldest. And to think that something as obvious as that crosses our mind only once in a blue moon or maybe only at funerals…</div>
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I pray I am reminded of how fragile this life is often and again. And I pray I live life to the fullest, love those who matter and not waste my time and worries for those who don’t. I pray I live my life in such a way that I be a blessing to people who cross my way. </div>
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But most of all, I pray I remember that each new day is a gift and I learn to be grateful for this most precious gift. Most importantly, I pray, I learn that how I decide to live each day is a gift I can give to myself every single day. I pray I learn to give myself a beautiful gift each day!!</div>
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Live each day well, for you never know when you'll not wake up to a new day!!</div>
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</div>Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-63641577461744418322012-07-08T01:20:00.000+05:302012-07-08T01:20:01.992+05:30Photo Journal : A week in pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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They say '<i>A picture is worth a thousand words'.</i> And tonight, after a super hectic week, I'm in no mood to review it in words. </div>
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So here you go.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz02gx4xDWoThDoiT8m8tuTCgk5NFrF7kAXFm1M6fPM1FjOzk7aHzkfNrvJ3Esb0E6_fWqSHlvNw_I8RK0cT-HUZ3z2Gyd8lkUVH3IeBshUuQGP8bcLliu_gHNMq-LHkww_ML-nPbvJ9w/s1600/Praying+Tom+on+Sunday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz02gx4xDWoThDoiT8m8tuTCgk5NFrF7kAXFm1M6fPM1FjOzk7aHzkfNrvJ3Esb0E6_fWqSHlvNw_I8RK0cT-HUZ3z2Gyd8lkUVH3IeBshUuQGP8bcLliu_gHNMq-LHkww_ML-nPbvJ9w/s640/Praying+Tom+on+Sunday.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I name this guy Tom - Praising Tom and Praying Tom. He's just an Intercession Prop I made for Sunday School from the lid of an old shoe box. I spend the whole morning cutting him out and painting him. I'm not much of an artist, but at the end of the day, kindergarten art is all I really need. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HUlxhGMeTrAQUGZ3GyC3PLGr9NvJAlAWtWJ5x4LVl8v9yOADTsYByMKd6kAfgUdyQ_diutCqNFyVbwLt_WPhruR40-_8ufBrWTGdHZ9JyZKJXEY2Da5ApB4jIFyez9o9iws4zOZP6XI/s1600/Recently+Updated.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HUlxhGMeTrAQUGZ3GyC3PLGr9NvJAlAWtWJ5x4LVl8v9yOADTsYByMKd6kAfgUdyQ_diutCqNFyVbwLt_WPhruR40-_8ufBrWTGdHZ9JyZKJXEY2Da5ApB4jIFyez9o9iws4zOZP6XI/s640/Recently+Updated.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Spring cleaning my vanity tuck-ins. Yes, I would love to lay them all out in a pretty vanity, but while I live in dusty Delhi, I'd rather have them hidden away in plastic tuck-ins. BTW, I know this is way too much make-up for someone who grew up a tomboy!! Sheeeesh!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75zXkbOD5AfBan4OCy_pfZ8jDV75KgzqeB16Rvg0NlGWVO5Vf1JGDVlDZewjSsKrgMlNf4wPs9dZh0jQZzz4Z7ltyjS8p-Phz_eW4lQ4O-zb_fM79-_tXGTfipLi6kKDyh9BxuSz0kzs/s1600/lipstick.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75zXkbOD5AfBan4OCy_pfZ8jDV75KgzqeB16Rvg0NlGWVO5Vf1JGDVlDZewjSsKrgMlNf4wPs9dZh0jQZzz4Z7ltyjS8p-Phz_eW4lQ4O-zb_fM79-_tXGTfipLi6kKDyh9BxuSz0kzs/s320/lipstick.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And I discovered I own eight lipsticks!!!!!!!!!!! 8 year old me would have hated me....<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZG7yXa4bJEXNqoIOWwYJDKX_ERkTV_73APoi-5tLzkq9WLr4UlNOndPuEnPnsX-p1StQ73juxs9bjGZPUCPtTaQ_1heaAaUr2ux83c_MagajnKhuq8LEGZTMndTNuMsH5_xjhzOuJs8/s1600/DSC00247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZG7yXa4bJEXNqoIOWwYJDKX_ERkTV_73APoi-5tLzkq9WLr4UlNOndPuEnPnsX-p1StQ73juxs9bjGZPUCPtTaQ_1heaAaUr2ux83c_MagajnKhuq8LEGZTMndTNuMsH5_xjhzOuJs8/s400/DSC00247.JPG" width="370" /></a><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm old-fashioned. I'm always armed with my Pocket Planner, my Pocket Financial Diary (Hahaaa!!) and my old beaten phone that my teenage cousin bedazzled for me during the Christmas Holidays. And yes, people do find my phone amusing and immature!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibEEWMmUipPKB_UfkQSFzqCuKs1jjFBo2bp77HZ5XqFLDVgA0ItUxxl4OgNqi6fxT685wEXrf7OI4wuG2g2fmAZSaXP1F41H3eZYhXeo5CeeMofbE-5nv7Hh0akOqIW3w8PDeAS_qG3aU/s1600/DSC00251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibEEWMmUipPKB_UfkQSFzqCuKs1jjFBo2bp77HZ5XqFLDVgA0ItUxxl4OgNqi6fxT685wEXrf7OI4wuG2g2fmAZSaXP1F41H3eZYhXeo5CeeMofbE-5nv7Hh0akOqIW3w8PDeAS_qG3aU/s400/DSC00251.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wonder how big is the paspot size of a mint???</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtz-NDK38lAYAZSO4D81-MZxMrswXik3fje45PngvB77FFFHxilc6GE_qRQxVhxMEkzbMWtL7Dt4Iy7LwgYMUwm86kz4UIwPmjW1NnKJ1jXJ0fD0VT3npMp02hS04rZbPUvxOdemaNEk/s1600/DSC00257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtz-NDK38lAYAZSO4D81-MZxMrswXik3fje45PngvB77FFFHxilc6GE_qRQxVhxMEkzbMWtL7Dt4Iy7LwgYMUwm86kz4UIwPmjW1NnKJ1jXJ0fD0VT3npMp02hS04rZbPUvxOdemaNEk/s400/DSC00257.JPG" width="321" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Heck No!! That's not a mouse!! Ignore the lung infection, but this is what a pacemaker device looks like through an X-ray film. I'm not a cardiac patient but we have a cyborg in the family. :D And when the cyborg gets sick, lives from Delhi to Tripura to Aizawl to Saiha gets disrupted!!! BTW, that lung infection is what made me spend the better part of my week in a hospital in South Delhi. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I just can't help but notice the single vowel that made all the difference!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My heart breaks each time I cut a pomegranate this way. It triggers some old friends - the childhood case of OCD</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">In my perfect world, I'd peel a pomegranate this way and waste an hour on it. Heee... but in my real world, I was just bored and jobless while waiting outside the ICU.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGiBjWb4O_m0G1pNPjxoM0u3K6DveqgMhdZUBFs9YT2bQg-4RflTUUh2QN5LGNaBoWaD6vwKdYU3t-v92mUY2WHasXV2k40Mp_neuN6SG23aNqabzlHIgDTtXb65MLYDUlDTkeIGhTdQ/s1600/DSC00311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGiBjWb4O_m0G1pNPjxoM0u3K6DveqgMhdZUBFs9YT2bQg-4RflTUUh2QN5LGNaBoWaD6vwKdYU3t-v92mUY2WHasXV2k40Mp_neuN6SG23aNqabzlHIgDTtXb65MLYDUlDTkeIGhTdQ/s400/DSC00311.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My breakfast, lunch and dinner for three days. Oh! how I crave for <i>buhchangrum</i>!!!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYeZptJvOfD7KjHQsHNfTQvFV0FDs1sCQe_q4ddFlig-FsCxmnUR_699FVRjvKga87YDT4e1P48BZDo9HruHDfljMA4qytxFCNA5gIBozfz8F3V3bOcpoC33n60_1SOLWMcndzXpwe34/s1600/DSC00312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYeZptJvOfD7KjHQsHNfTQvFV0FDs1sCQe_q4ddFlig-FsCxmnUR_699FVRjvKga87YDT4e1P48BZDo9HruHDfljMA4qytxFCNA5gIBozfz8F3V3bOcpoC33n60_1SOLWMcndzXpwe34/s640/DSC00312.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next building. Pigeons all lined up. An hour before the constipated Delhi skies finally get cured of its chronic ailment.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinuYL0DxJqz2Yf0G87WQhl-i6wc802DIyCiqcwm1pJEVAQfRPBPXQ6jQfl1H4z7xxLzLHx5QazxRcnrbWb1NDce6J5znaBWv7yXLaku5J94CRRKEKcI1doOSDs1YC9Dil-7krOC3Q-_8A/s1600/Friday+rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinuYL0DxJqz2Yf0G87WQhl-i6wc802DIyCiqcwm1pJEVAQfRPBPXQ6jQfl1H4z7xxLzLHx5QazxRcnrbWb1NDce6J5znaBWv7yXLaku5J94CRRKEKcI1doOSDs1YC9Dil-7krOC3Q-_8A/s400/Friday+rain.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Love Rain!! :D :D </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZYveXK-HUv1PeiQBvdUmUUsPD1sK0yvtlLyShAO8XJzTQ-a_8cnuxSE6BuzJT-A-kgO3BAfiWDHKVWx5EXHNkHF7E-hzl40huCaUCEFvc04aWoQPpbHwBya8mhCD_DG38T25A6nHpzcc/s1600/Drogo+on+Friday+night+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZYveXK-HUv1PeiQBvdUmUUsPD1sK0yvtlLyShAO8XJzTQ-a_8cnuxSE6BuzJT-A-kgO3BAfiWDHKVWx5EXHNkHF7E-hzl40huCaUCEFvc04aWoQPpbHwBya8mhCD_DG38T25A6nHpzcc/s400/Drogo+on+Friday+night+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">After I've put down the sick cyborg for the night, I finally settled to watching that scene from Game Of Thrones Season 2 Finale. My heart skips a beat all over again. The Khaleesi should have a Dothraki flashback in every episode on Season 3. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHZAqyFSaFGbGM3KF-9ojfjdWDau55i2wxsOvPlFEUfNwjPVDFa-W1ZRZhmLiWyVdOMj0priVozuj1oznQacND9EwkHW5H375YLvCS11fjFtVn4pB70gVdlZlYphP1ujI93HQLVWBTb8/s1600/DSC00296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHZAqyFSaFGbGM3KF-9ojfjdWDau55i2wxsOvPlFEUfNwjPVDFa-W1ZRZhmLiWyVdOMj0priVozuj1oznQacND9EwkHW5H375YLvCS11fjFtVn4pB70gVdlZlYphP1ujI93HQLVWBTb8/s640/DSC00296.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know it's not quite the season for bangs, but you know the combination of me + a pair of scissors + bored = weird fringe I will pin away the next day itself.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />So what am I doing in the weekend??<br /><br />Yes, I badly need to feed... on <i>buhchangrum</i><br />And catch up on sleep!!!<br /><br /><br /><br />Have a Happy Weekend everyone!</span></td></tr>
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</div>Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-70083665934551119072012-07-07T01:28:00.000+05:302012-07-07T17:56:26.389+05:30The Garage Encounter: Why I am a Christian and why I choose to be one...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I'm sure I'm not the only one who comes across such questions...</div>
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"Why are you a Christian?"</div>
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"Aren't Mizo's all Christian?"</div>
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"Had you been born into a different religion, would you still be a Christian?"</div>
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And lately in University...</div>
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"The Bible is so patriarchal. How can you accept such injustice to women?"</div>
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"Creationist theory? C'mon, Zuali, you know better than that? Fossils don't lie"</div>
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Well, let me start by reintroducing myself...</div>
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My name is Hmingthanzuali. I am known as Zuali by most and Seni by family. I was born in a Christian family and I made the choice to be a Christian a few months before I turned 19. Of course, I would be lying if I said that my upbringing in a Christian family didn't influence my decision. But since then, I have never looked back or regret my decision to do so. <span style="background-color: white;">I made the decision to be a Christian when I was in the darkest abyss of my life, with a mother dying of cancer. The reason why I chose to be a Christian is because Christ gave me hope through that dark time and everyday since then.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">If you are a Mizo, you will agree with me when I say that many, in fact most, of the Christian-family-brought-up-Mizos are 'born again' at salvation campings that the churches in Mizoram love to organise. I have nothing against that. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">But my story is a bit different. </span><span style="background-color: white;">I met Jesus Christ in a garage.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">A makeshift garage with an old rusted tin roof as one of its walls. It was a rainy July night in Shillong and I had just got off the phone with my mother who, without wavering, told me her exact condition after her latest checkup. "I am going to die" she told me " the doctors gave me a maximum of three months to live. I don't want to hide the truth from you because I want you to prepare yourself for it ". I cried and told her that I will be strong, that I am not afraid and asked her to be strong and not be scared. </span></div>
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That was in fact, the last lie I told my mother.</div>
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The truth was that I hung up the phone, collapsed on the cold hard floor of the PCO and wept. My mother was my fortress, my savior and someone I always run to at the end of any problem. And I don't want to live in a world without her in it.</div>
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That night whatever prayer I said wasn't enough to help soothe the pain. So that's when I escaped into the old garage so that I could have my time to confront God, get angry with him and blame him for the things that are happening to my mother - a good Christian woman. I never did. Because I didn't have the strength to fight. So instead, I begged God - my mother's God, the God that she had been serving for all those years, to help me. My prayers were from a broken soul and is not made up of words pleasing to the ears. I did not make any promises to follow Him nor did I offer any leverage.</div>
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<i>"Ka nu Pathian kha Pathian nung I nih chuan, rawn che ta che"</i></div>
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(My mother's God, if You are alive, make Your move)</div>
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And move, He did. The peace in my heart right at the moment was assurance enough. Then and there, my heart was filled with hope and courage. And I know that Jesus Christ indeed lives. I made the decision to follow Christ that night in front of the old green jeep with a rusty bonnet cover. Why would I not?? If you felt the peace and safety I felt in my heart that night, you would too.</div>
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My mother succumbed to cancer three weeks after. I miss her everyday, but I am at peace because I know that it's just a matter of time before I meet her again. Having that divine peace makes me look for a brighter tomorrow. It always makes me see a silver lining in every dark cloud and a rainbow after every rain. It's that divine hope which tells me that no matter how dark the night or how big the problem, God will lead me out of it one day, and I will learn something from that pain and hurt. That divine peace is the reason which makes me say today, that if my mother had still been here with me, I would never learn how to love my dad like I love him now. </div>
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Being a Christian is not easy. It will never be easy. It's a struggle everyday following the Perfect Man's footsteps. And I am definitely not the best Christian. Sometimes I wonder if I ever make the cut of a 'good Christian' but nonetheless, despite all the problems and the struggles, it's definitely worth it because in the end, you have the hope and peace that 'transcends all understanding'.</div>
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This post is not about a philosophical viewpoint on the faith that I follow. And sadly I cannot argue on the fact that we Christians are sometimes, the biggest hypocrites in existence. History will confirm this ugly truth. And I'm not here to argue about how you practice your faith or if it's good or bad. I'm not here to be 'Miss Goody Two Shoes' to boast about my Christian upbringing or how regular I am in front pew of the church. This is, but, my brief account on my personal encounter with Christ and why I choose to follow Him.</div>
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By the time you get to this line, you might already find this ridiculous or even have an unconscious sneer on your face. But my point is that, I met God when I was at the lowest point in my life, when reason and religious cordiality have totally eluded me. If you think that God is present only in the vicinity of religious buildings or religious people, or that you can have an encounter with Him only in church gatherings, crusades or salvation campings... just remember that I met Him in a garage.</div>
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After all, it's the heart that matters...</div>
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</div>Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-65153902885720366022012-07-02T21:16:00.000+05:302012-07-02T21:16:40.443+05:30Summer in the Capital<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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June heat in the capital was magnificent. Now July rolls in with its 'I-drown-just-by-breathing' humidity and here we are, still praying for rain. I couldn't help but sigh when I flipped today's paper to see reports and pictures of priests performing <i>pujas </i> to appease the rain gods. Rain - Something which already is more of a curse back home in the hills, is an awaited blessing to the people in this city. An awaited blessing, this evening too, as the skies darken but still no rain. Maybe tonight is the night it will finally rain, or maybe it's just another evening when the skies decide to troll us - rain-deprived folks, yet again.</div>
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<i>Dear God, </i><i style="background-color: white;">Please heal the Delhi skies of its chronic constipation problem.</i></div>
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I have lived in the city for the past six years and I pride myself in being one of the very few Delhiites who live without an AC or a cooler. But this year, when the minimum temperature refuses to go below 32 degree Celsius, I was tempted to buy a cooler. Tempted. But then the humidity peaks up, and I changed my mind. I have weak lungs, you see, I survived a hereditary TB (unlike two uncles) during my second year of college and I am a fan of well ventilated areas. High humidity makes it difficult for me to breathe and that is why I hate cities like Kolkatta (I make sure I never get out of the airport during overnight transit flights.),Guwahati and Chennai. And I can assure you I will never be a beach babe.</div>
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Probably because of the heat, twice this summer, snakes have entered the ground floor of our wing in the hostel, to seek solace in the bathrooms and cooler areas. In both the occasions, I was so glad I lived on the first floor. But I was curious enough to sit on the steps, sweating while watching the hostel guards try to catch the snakes with their <i>lathis</i> !!!! And catch they did not, until a professor from the School of Life Sciences showed up and caught the snakes with his bare hands!</div>
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This summer, whether we want it or not, we have to bathe in hot/warm water, even at 1 AM. Thanks to the 'room' temperature! The only time, I've noticed, that we get access to cool water is in the mornings yet before sunrise. So we all take a hot shower and cool ourselves under the fan!! Ah!! Had it been winter... if only!</div>
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But what's great about Indian summer?</div>
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Oh! The amount of water we drink!! I drink about 5-7 litres of water every single day, I sweat like a pig and pimples are at bay. Whether you like it or not, it's a free sauna/steam bath for every hour of load-shedding when the electricity goes out. All that water intake and all that sweating must be good for something. <span style="background-color: white;">The summer glow beats any make-up look!! A little kajal and a lipbalm, you're ready for church or any formal event, though you have to arm yourself with tissues and blot sheets.</span></div>
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It takes only a few hours to air dry your laundry even in the shade. Before the humidity sets in, it takes about an hour. Yes, I've timed them. There was a day when I did three batches of laundry in an afternoon, all dried and pressed by sundown.</div>
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A midnight walk in the campus with a melting ice-cream in hand or a glass of refreshing <i>Nimbu Paani </i> is something I always look forward to.</div>
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Water Melons. Cheap, juicy, sweet water melons!</div>
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Aaaaaaand......... that's about it. ^__^</div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Delhi summer in its peak ain't that great. Of course, everyone knows this. But when you live in such heat, you take it with a generous pinch of salt. </span><span style="background-color: white;">And we don't complain, rant or update our angst about the heat on every single Facebook status updates, like many of my Facebook friends from Aizawl do, when the heat in the hills reaches to the minimum of what we have here!!</span></div>
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(Aha! There I go! I'll brace myself for the negative thoughts some of you might be spearing my way for my last line! :D )</div>
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</div>Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-303234986480561090.post-17563535591031281472012-06-21T21:23:00.000+05:302012-06-21T21:23:01.067+05:30My perfect Now Vs. My real Now<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In my perfect now,<br />
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I study 8 hours a day<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I sleep 8 hours a day.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I 9gag less, Facebook less and blog more.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I'm a morning person. I wake up a skylark at 6 AM, half of the day's chore is already done by 9 AM and I retire for the day two hours before midnight.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I'm a lady through and through.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I eat healthy and I exercise well.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I'm best buds with the hottest nerd on the planet, Zachary Levi. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I master the Government and Binding theory of Syntax.</span><br />
Delhi is in it's November temperature.<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I trust God without panicking.</span><br />
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But,<br />
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In my real now,<br />
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I hardly study 3 hours a day<br />
I sleep 5 hours a day on an average.<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">9gag, Facebook and studies go hand in hand, which muddles my mind on what to blog about.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I wake up so late that sometimes I miss breakfast and as a result toss around in my bed till 3 AM.</span><br />
Sometimes, I get tired of being a girl.<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Fresh veggies and fresh fruits are things of the past and a walk to the mess hall counts as my daily exercise.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I get overexcited when Zach Levi's bot retweeted me and kept watching his videos on Youtube.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I bang my head on the table by Page 21 of the 600 paged Syntax Theory book that I am currently studying.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Delhi records the highest minimum temperature of the season. Read: 34 degree Celsius.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I get overly agitated and confront God with my problems!!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">In my perfect now, I would have concluded the post with a positive tone.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">But this is my real now...</span><br />
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<br /></div>Senmamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15191549410169560907noreply@blogger.com3