Now and Then: Torn Jeans vs. Torn School Socks!

It's a blue monday today. To chase the blues away, a friend of mine and I decided to go flea market shopping! Armed with multiple layers of sunscreen, full sleeved shirt (lest I get sunburnt), a ninja scarf for protection against dust and my favourite pair of comfy jeans, we headed out. And as I got out of the auto, I heard a rip, felt a breeze and looked down to a 3 inch inverted L tore right on my upper outer thigh!!! The auto driver and a couple of shoppers nearby looked at me and giggled. While the car driver on whose number plates my pants tore, looked on, slightly amused with my exposed patch of skin and my clumsy walk while trying to hide the tear.

There was no way I was going back. For this will be my last Monday Sale shopping for the next  three months. Well, I couldn't shop with a huge gash on my jeans either. So guess how I rocked the look.

Wonder if it'll set off the metal detector??!

OooooOO... nasty!

Safety pins to the rescue!!!! All five of them!! And needless to say, I roamed around in the market for five whole hours. And I must say, I have never felt more confident haggling and walking away if the price wouldn't come down to what I bargained for. But by the time I came back with a huge plastic bagful of clothes and 30+ neck pieces (Yes, 30+ !!!), I thought back to then ....

I was fresh in high school just getting used to my knee-covering skirt, border striped green socks and to using our classrooms as rabbit holes. I was still at that age when I'd look down when I pass a senior in the corridor and run away just even when I feel a senior's eyes on me. One fine day, during a morning break, I was on my way down the stairs when a group of Class 12 boys was heading up. I quickly hopped to the side to give them way when a small loose wire near the stairs caught my socks. I heard a rip and the next thing I knew, my knee length socks were down my ankles. To make matters worse, those boys haven't passed me yet. One of them offered to help but I was so close to tears I couldn't even accept the help. When I reached my classroom, I was so embarrassed that I cried for two whole periods. My friends, as soon as lunch break came, ran down to the school stationary to buy me a fresh pair of socks. While a classmate and I switch seats because my swollen eyes were too visible as I was in the front row!

Now and Then! Huh?????

Who would have known, the girl who cried for over an hour because of torn socks would run around a busy market with a safety pin cluster on her torn pants?!! 

And it took only 12 years. 

Wait, 12 years???!!! I was in high school 12 years ago? No wonder, the torn pants didn't bother me much!! What can I say? Enjoying accidents are just one of the many perks of  getting old maturity! And blogging about them are again, just one of the many symptoms of uber-confidence!! 

Wait!!! Does confidence come with age too??!!

Sleepless Nights and Long (Lost) Loves!

Recently I downloaded an old movie "Practical Magic" for the only and sole purpose of drowning myself in these lines...

"Sometimes I feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. The moon tonight, there's a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing... I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen. I don't know. Maybe I had my happiness. I don't want to believe it but, there is no man, Gilly. Only that moon. "

I was once accused of being an 'emotional masochist'. That was a long time ago, yet I believe that accusation is still valid. And on hot sleepless summer nights, the masochist comes out to play, plunging bittersweet memories into my heart. Of long lost loves and a love that never was! I will never admit to being a fool during my youth. In college my grades were always consistently good, I never dabbled with drugs, never smoked and didn't even know what alcohol tasted like. I never fooled around, always kept a physically safe distance from the opposite sex and always 'saved' myself for the right one when he would come along. But I admit, I broke a few hearts and got mine broken really badly that it took years to heal. What goes around comes around ey?

And as the gentle night breeze blows on my lacy curtains, I stare at the shadows and knowing full well the regrets that I will have even before the night is over, I tread down on memory lanes that I often don't have the strength to take even a step on.

There will always be that guy, that one guy who liked you before he met you in person, before you grew out of  the awkward composure and the acne infested forehead. That one guy who shifted his school so that he could be in the same city as you are. That one guy who told your cousin after three years, "Seni's never gonna like me, Is she? I've done everything I could but please tell me what to do next". Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the affection. But I hated myself for chewing my nails and staying quiet instead because somehow even my stupid heart knew that such a guy with such a devotion deserved much more than pity... which was, Alas, the only emotion I could gather for him!

Then again, there is that guy whom you just clicked with. When you are together, CHEMISTRY's in motion. That guy who was one of your punch-buddies and that one person who laughed with you and held you when you cry. That only guy you could sing your heart out with and never get scared of a criticism because he pretends to believe you have a 'good' voice. Yet, you remained quiet and never revealed what you really felt because you know that your inter-cultural background will pose problems in the next stage and in the long run. Friendship was all you showed each other. You stayed friends and parted as friends, as good friends with no hard feelings. Yet, years later when you look at his wedding invite on Facebook, you feel empty... and happy, altogether at the same time. And you're surprised with how deep a place that person still has in your heart, and you realized, all at the same time, the deep sorrow yet inner peace you had in letting such a special person go!  My Love that never was!

Then of course, there will always be that one guy who pales out the rest. The one guy you worshiped. That only guy you put in a pedestal only to come crashing down and taking your heart along with his fall. That hurt that was so bad that you expected not to wake up the next morning. That pain that you thought will follow you for the rest of your life. Yet, you struggled on your feet and got your pace back on. And in spite of all that happened, some of the principles and values he taught you are the very things you live by till today. And years later, you bump across him online and you are comforted to know that he still has respect and good thoughts for you!!

Your thoughts finally hop on to the Unlost Love. The one who stood by you now. You are aware of the petty fights and the misunderstandings you both have. Your differences which often pushed you on the verge of a breakup, your difficulty in compromising which often ends up hurting you both. Yet, through it all, you stick together and you chose to be together. Because you both know that what you have is worth holding on to. And because in spite of all your differences and the times that you hurt each other, you know that at the end of the day, he is the one person who will always be loyal to you. And because you also know that the strength of a relationship lies not on how less you fight but on how well you patch up after each single fight!

And as the shadows turn to grey which fade in the morning light, I rolled over, hugged my cover sheet and remind myself to be grateful for the loves in my life, lost and unlost. For each love taught me a lesson, each different from the other yet each as equally important. Each love took his part in shaping me and moulding me into the person that I am today. And I'd say, they didn't do a bad job!! :D 

I thank God for sleepless nights!

Lest I hardly have time to look back and cherish my long lost loves

Lest I forget to admire and adore my Unlost One!

Sleepless Nights remind me to be grateful for what I have and what I've lost! They gave me time to count my blessings and renew my tired and numb heart to continue falling and growing in love with my Unlost Love!

The Singing Mizo

Recently, after coming late from a funeral, I sat quietly and suddenly blurted out to my roommate.

"No wonder Mizo's sing well. We sing at weddings, funerals and every single social meeting. We literally sing every time we meet!"

My roomate shrugged " Really? "

I got all excited. "Especially when we wait overnights for funerals, we sing through the whole night!"

She looked up from her laptop, quizzed her brows, " Really?? I thought you guys just sat there quietly, you know, with the dead body and all."

And she sounded more appropriate. Staying overnight with a dead body with the youth singing the whole night?? It seems more like a celebration.

A friend of mine once joked about how we, Mizos wish and greet each other. A handshake for each and every occasion, be it good or bad. It doesn't matter if it's a wedding or a funeral, a handshake is appropriate for every single occasion. I remembered my dad greeting me with a handshake when I went home for my mother's funeral. He also greeted me with a handshake when we met after I finished my master's degree. I, on the other hand, greeted an old friend whom I haven't met since high school, when I met him at his sis-in-laws funeral recently. So I thought, maybe, it's the same case with singing. We sing when we're sad, when we're happy, when we are in love, when we fall out of it, we sing when we meet, we sing when we part, we sing pretty much all the time. The Mizo life looks like one big musical. No wonder we are known for our singing! And it doesn't matter if we're mediocre at it.

But of course, there will always be exceptions like a close friend of mine who once declared "Zai hi chu Pathianin min kohna ani lo tih ka chiang e". And true to his words, I have never heard him hit a right note with a single song. And yet, that doesn't stop him from participating in the choir occasionally. Wait, I believe  he lip-syncs with the choir!! He doesn't attract stares that way. Sometimes, I wish it could be the same when he sings off key at funerals and get-togethers. What can I say? He is a Mizo, just born with the wrong vocal cords!!

And tonight, as I punched these words into my keyboard, I don't even feel like talking to my roommate. Why? Because, today is an Easter Sunday and I just got back from a series of services filled with singing, singing and more singing. Just the church service had four different choirs, including the children's choir. And I had to go and be part of three of them. I know, I just sound overboard. But let me confess, I'm a Mizo. **Read: I love singing**.

And to sign off, here follows a picture taken a few years back from an Easter service here in Delhi. It has been doing it's rounds in Facebook for a couple of years now! Now that is what I call "The Singing Mizos." 

Competing with a yawning Hippo????

Can't you just adore her?

A song by Mandy Moore goes like this...

She likes chocolate in the morning

She drinks her coffee late at night
You can sense that she is guarded
But that's alright
She'll fall asleep while your still talking
With unfinished books beside her bed
She'll cancel all of her appointments
And go shopping instead

And in spite of what is right

Far beyond what she'd except

When the moon begs the question

Will you have the answer yet?

Can't you just adore her?

Can't you just adore her?

She loves to watch the sunset

But she is partial to the rain

With those tears and that umbrella

Her allure goes unexplained

You made dinner in your apartment

You both assume that she'll be late

She always has the best intentions

Her goodness is innate

And in spite of what is right

Far beyond what she'd except

When the moon begs the question

Will you have the answer yet

Can't you just adore her?

Can't you just adore her?

Why can't you just adore her?

I like chocolate in the morning

I drink my coffee late at night 

The first time I listened to this song, I thought I could be the woman that the song talks about. And needless to say, I fell in love with it. 

But today, as I listened to this song while attempting to cook chicken in my uncle's hole of a room, a friend of mine popped into my head. Our very own Mapuii whom we lovingly christened 'Lalgo-i' just because she's exactly the woman that the song talks about. Yes! precisely to the 'innate goodness' and the 'unfinished books beside her bed' bit. And it's surprising how different she and I are, in our own little worlds, when the song could talk about both of us with all of our uncanny nature. It kept me shifting my thoughts to another friend to yet another friend. I soon realized that this song fits for every single one of us. 

So, this song is for all the less-than-perfect women who somehow always have the best intentions in their hearts. These women and I, with our clumsiness and our imperfect nature, deserved to be loved and adored just the way we are! Yes, with flawed bodies and all!!

And so the question remains...

O Sons of Adam, can't you just adore Her?

From the mouth of babes.

I've always been a fan of kids ever since I was 11. Why? At that age, I would bathe, clean up, feed (with a bottle, dum dum!), dress and put my new born cousin to sleep while my aunt was recovering from child birth. And that baby cousin just passed his Matriculation. Sigh!!!.  Aunts would call me over to babysit my infant cousins whenever I have school holidays. In fact I was so booked that my mother would complain about me staying with my aunts to babysit. Then, a day finally came when she wouldn't allow me to go stay over at my aunts. With a firm "No" she added, "You are my only daughter and I will not allow you to look like your aunts' awmpui."

The fascination with caretaking babies and young kids stayed intact through the years. I was usually the cousin sister that my younger cousins would look up to. There was a time when two of my kid cousins were such big fans that they'd come over every single day. When questioned why, they'd answer "U Seni bulah chuan thil kan ei deuh reng a, kan zai deuh reng bawk a". These lovely boys would be my bodyguard when I was preparing for my 12th exams. They'd stand guard at my door for hours and hours with their toy guns lest 'misualhovin an tibuai palh ang'.

My interest with kids grew as I began teaching in Sunday School during my first year in college at Shillong. I loved my first and second batch of 8 year olds and my batch of 14 year olds I taught when I was in Final year.

My favorite and most cherished summer during college was when I and two close friends went to teach at a mission school which a friend of ours headed. This little mission school was situated in a little Bodo village called Patkijuli at the Indo-Bhutan border. In fact, Bhutan was so close that the border gate was just 15 minutes walk from the school. I had a great time teaching primary kids English Grammar, Cursive writing and Social Sciences. It was interesting and also a challenge teaching these kids who would say

"Miss, pencil me no hab"

"Miss, book me no bring"

"Miss, Toilet please to go"

After a month, we had to leave. I cried while doing so. I don't know to what extent or if I've helped them at all, but my summer with the children at that school did help me find my passion... teaching young kids.

After I came to Delhi to pursue a Master's degree, I shamelessly asked a friend who taught in Sunday School if I could also do the same. I was welcomed and it was one shameful thing I've asked which I sure don't regret till today.

If you'd ask me why, my Sunday School kids are those who kept me sane through my M.Phil years. They are my best stress-buster weekends and the reason I keep control of myself. They keep me in check and I make sure I don't let go of myself and am always level headed because I know that I have to be a role model for my 50 kids in Sunday School. Teaching them had me make sure that I don't stray far from the Bible, keep my spirituality intact and tread my everyday with careful steps.

There are times when parents would come up to me and thank me for taking care of their kids. Then I'd be humbled. Because I, in return, learn so much from these kids.

And I tell you teaching in Sunday School comes with its perks. Because of the mouth of babes...

A teacher in Primary Dept. once asked a student who is the most beautiful person in the world. That kid quipped "U Zuali" without batting an eyelid. This same kid always made sure I join his siblings' outing at the zoo or the park. And his kid brother tells his family that U Zuali is his Chhianpa. There is this cute chubby girl in Beginners Dept. who always shares her lipgloss with me 'cause she doesn't like it when my lips are dry. This same kid tells me I look good in white. And nothing in this world would boost your confidence and self esteem more than the compliment of a 6 year old who, with her round eyes and out-of-breath tiny voice, tells you are 'the kindest and prettiest big girl ever'.

It's been four years since I've started teaching in Sunday School here in Delhi. And I've realized, I've watched my kids grow through my FB albums. But I still find joy each time I step foot into the Sunday School Hall after a long hard week, to these kids who waved at me, giving me their toothless smiles or sharing their latest Justin Bieber crush with me. My heart warms each time the 6 year old Ruati thrusts yet another new lipgloss in my hands; each time 3 year old Feli calls me Zuali instead of U Zuali; each time the 12 year old Hlui stands next to me to make sure she's already grown taller than me and each time the 14 year old Benjamin tells me that Barca FC had a late night match and makes him lose sleep.

Being with these kids gives me shelter, a comfort corner and a passion that my heart burns for! I hope I never forget and never let go of this one thing.

And to my wonderful mini-mentors...

I hope I always carry the innocence that you carry in your hearts, 

The fascination with which you view the world through,

 The zeal you renew each single morning, 

The wonder you hold at each new thing learnt,

 The grudge you never hold and 

The excitement with which you face life every single day.