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 “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.”
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.
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 “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”.
She is my cousin.
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.
“Go write the exam if you’re so keen on it”
“How can I? I have three kids already. And I’m not as smart
as you are”
“Well, thank you but then, go ask your husband”
“He IS writing the exam”
“Well, good for you”
I was quiet, sipping on my green tea. Being the big sister
that she is, she sensed my inner frown.
“Well, Sen, I’m only saying that because I care about you”
“Thank you very much. But in the future, please do not care
for me in such a way”
I know I was rude. She mumbled to herself
“You’re so stubborn”
I smirked. Silence.
“I’m just saying you should take the exam. You don’t have to
take the job if you don’t want to”
Then all hell broke loose.
“ '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?”
I got up laying the baby back in her crib. She stirred but didn’t
wake up. My cousin glared at me.
“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.
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!
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!! Hats off to
all those who make it through. 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.
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.
I know what I want.
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?
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. J. 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...
“What about getting married? Aren’t you dating anyone? Wait,
I have to introduce you to this young man….”
“So this means you’ll end up marrying someone from outside
the community?”
“But then you’ll have to leave home and Aizawl and your Dad?”
“Are you sure? Don’t take sudden decisions. You can serve
God here in the local church too”
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!
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! :) :) )
The Psalmist said “As
for the days of our life, they contain seventy years, Or if due to strength,
eighty years…” (Psalms 90:10). On another far end, Chetan Bhagat once said “ If we are lucky, we may last another 50 years. And 50 years
is just 2,500 weekends” 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.
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. 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”. 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.
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.
But I dream in colours.
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...
