Photo Journal: My last week of November

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.

So how would I describe my last week of November??

One word: Actionless...

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

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!!

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!

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.

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!

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!

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!)

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.

                                               There goes my week. How was yours??

Stolen Innocence, Justice and the Dilemma of the inbetweens.

(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.)

 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.

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.

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.

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.

 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.

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,

"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".

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.

In fact, once he called me "Prefect Phunchiar ber", 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.

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...

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!

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.

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.

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.

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??

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

So my final stand is this:

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.

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.

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.

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.

Praying for the Miller family and the girls!

Through his eyes: B for 'Buata'

It's all in the eyes of the beholder!!

If only I could see the world through his eyes, life would be more beautiful than it already is.

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.

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.

Lalbuatsaiha (B for Buata)

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!

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.

It was only a few months after he moved to our campus when I was out at a dhaba 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,

 " E... Zuali, Lo thu ve rawh. Zanin chu i van nalh em em ve" 

(Zuali, come and sit. You look very good tonight!)

I stopped in my tracks not knowing how to respond when he continued...  

"Tunlai chu i chhelo hrim hrim, i hmaibawl te hi a zia tawp, i no sur bawk sia"

(You look good these days, your pimples are showing mercy and you look positively glowing)

And then it hit me that it's one of his ways of breaking ice!! I laughed so hard that night. 

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 "Nikum kha chuan i hnungzang atangin i keh mai dawn amaw tih tur alawm". And we laughed and laughed. C'mon, it's a blind guy saying all that!!!! The irony of it all!

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 "Nula  hmeltha deuh ka rim dawn" and walked back into the dark!!

He's quite a venturer. A month after he moved into campus, he knew his way around every dhaba, 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 "Pari Zun" or "Tu zunzam nge?". He's way too independent that sometimes I'd totally forget about his condition.

At our picnic last year where he decided he will be the judge of the 'mixed wheelbarrow race' !

But there's one incident that I witnessed which I will always use to pull his leg...

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! 

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!!

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!! 

Buata, the player: One girl next to him, another on the line!!!

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.

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??

At JNU Miho Kut 2011: Packing up from the park to continue with  evening programme after dinner. His favourite line that day "Lersia kawmchar zu aia thlum zawk ka rawn phawrh ang".

It's all in the eyes of the beholder. 

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! 

His acceptance speech on recieving an Honorary Award from DMZP after he submitted his MPhil Dissertation.

So here's to Buata, his kickass attitude and a full life which will be abundantly lived!

Cheers!

Seni at the Dentist

Hate is a strong word.... a very strong word. And it precisely describes my feeling when I say... "I hate dentists".

I hate dentists.

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.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. 

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 Chhurpi 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.

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!!

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!

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. :)

What's the worst thing after? I couldn't taste the blueberry icecream properly with half my tongue still numb from the LA. 

What's worse-est ?? I couldn't eat the authentic Baibing sawh that my aunt prepared for dinner. :(

On a serious note, Thank you Dr. Rathi for your very generous usage of LA. 

'Hate' is a strong word... but after today, maybe it'll be a more precise expression if I say ....

"I dislike dentists".

(PS: The Local Anesthesia hasn't worn off yet. I might change my 'precise' expression tomorrow) 

Photo Journal : A week in pictures

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.

Please do remind me if I go overboard with such posts for I'm still not hip enough to instagram!

But anyways, my week goes...

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!!

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!!

A fresh batch of readings all printed and spiral bounded. Enough to keep me busy for another week! Come on, Hard work!!! Come on, CONCEN!! 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?

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!

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.

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.)

Have a Happy Week ahead!