Top Six Things I'm Thankful for in 2011

Just a few days left for 2011. And though I'm excited to enter a New Year, I feel I should reflect and jot down the things I'm thankful for during this year. I started with a detailed list, and after writing a really long list,  I realize I'd never finish writing this post. So I rounded off with my Top Six. What surprised me is that my Top Six things are things that I've always taken for granted! 

So here it goes:

1. Academically, this year has seen me gain another degree (or at least half of it). I finished my MPhil's Viva Voce and embarked on yet another (scarier) journey- a PhD.

2. My Family. Especially my dad. Even though I will forever long for a sister, my brothers make a 'helluva'  butt kickin' siblings. But when you have only one parent with you, you learn the value of having him for another year! I'm really blessed and immensely thankful to have my dad with me for another year of my life! I hope and pray I have him with me for many many more years to come, spoiling my (future) kids and sharing them his struggle stories when they reach their difficult teenage years!!

3. No hospitals throughout the year! :D I visited the Campus Health Center plenty and yes! I did fracture my ribs on 'the great fall' but I wasn't admitted in any hospital! Gone are my years in Shillong when I'd be admitted in a hospital every year! I was admitted thrice in a hospital during my final year of college! And though I've been to a lot of hospitals this year, thankfully, I was never the patient. To think that I'm hospital free for a year while I live in a polluted and unhealthy city! Ah! That's something to be thankful for.

4. Sunday School. When The Delhi Mizo Christian Fellowship branched out to three services in May, my heart sank for Sunday School. I was apprehensive about the number of children who would come to class and where we would meet. For more than six months, we have been meeting in the Chief Minister's Committee Room in Mizoram House, Vasant Vihar. Although a bit small, we can somehow manage by taking some of the classes in the corridors. I am particularly thankful for my class of teenagers who have made the best number of students in their Department during my five years teaching Sunday School. I know I'd sound tacky but this year, I've realized all over again that I've given my heart to Sunday School ever since I've started teaching in it since my college days.

South Delhi Mizo Inkhawm Naupang Sunday School: Group picture just after our 'interesting' Nativity Skit!

5. Choir. I'm thankful to be a part of the Delhi Mizo Choir. Being a part of the Choir has taken me to places I'd never have the chance to go had I not been a part of it. Plus I've met some of my closest and most loved friends in the choir. I know I don't have a powerful pair of lungs but I'm happy to be there for song practices and singing my heart out in the choir! I didn't think of the choir this way untill that day in November when I lost my voice to laryngitis for four very deafeningly silent days!

The Last DMI Combined Choir before branching out. (2011)

DMI Choir in 1983. I wasn't born yet when this picture was taken but we have one member who's present in both the pictures. To that person .... SALUTE!!

6. The Roommate: Sharing a very small living space with someone makes you realize the value of a good roommate. I'm extremely thankful for my present one and it's not just because of her love for karaoke! :D


Ah! The list is even more generic than I thought it would be!! But then, when it comes down to list out the things you're grateful for, I realize it's always back to the basics!

2011, You've been a good year!!

My ongoing battle with the High Heel

A friend of mine almost twisted her ankles last Sunday from wearing 3 inch heels. On her defense, she wasn't used to wearing heels and she forgot she wore heels when she ran down the stairs. The next day, we wasted several SMS rounds on the condition of her ankles (100 sms per day ain't no problem for me till date, I'm a lazy 'texter'). But the incident reminded me of my ongoing battling with mastering the art of wearing high heels.

I got my first pair of heels the Christmas after I turned 17. Two inch heels. Nothing glorious. My peers that time could have run a marathon on my new heels. But for me, I spend Christmas Eve practicing on how to walk in my new heels without walking awkward. My brother laughed at me on Christmas morning when he found me preparing breakfast with PJs and heels! I ignored his snigger. I will not be caught walking like a duck on Christmas day. 

Turns out I was wrong, he told some of his friends and my friends about my kitchen fashion. Loudmouth! It so happened that right in the middle of Christmas Tea at church, my wicked friend Jona yelled "Hey! Seni.... nice heels! You ain't walking funny at all. Geat job!!". I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me then and there! 

In spite of that encounter, I will always have fond memories of  those heels. Everytime I wore them, my dad would tease "I pheikhawk atang khan lo chhuk la, in kawm ang hmiang". I still keep the pair back home, though I never wore them anymore. I tired, several times, to pass them on to my younger cousins but was always rejected with a whiff of "a style a hlui tawh em mai"!  So I decided to keep them as souvenirs!

Ten years down the line... improvement came slow. Improvement with the height of the heels. The highest pair of heels I own is a 3 inch strap (Yes, I measured it just now!) and I wore it only once in four months. And the only time I wore it, I took a pair of flats to change into once church got over. Yes, it's much better to relax in flats during song practice! 

I don't walk like a duck anymore while wearing heels. Wait, I never walked like one! It's just that I never get scared of walking like a duck anymore. I guess I've covered a milestone. But I wear heels only in formal occasions and  to church and I've never lasted for more than 5 hours in heels. That is why I always carry a pair of flats on Sundays to change into, once service gets over. Well, most of us, at least here in Delhi do!

Once a friend of mine in the choir complained "You girls always do this! And you don't even wear that much of high heels. The PussyCat Dolls can sing and dance for hours in much higher heels!" He quipped. "The reason??" I retorted "I'm not a Pussy Cat Doll!" Isn't it obvious?

My problem wearing high heels. First things first, I wear high heels only to church or other formal occasions. And I teach in Sunday School. Well, aren't half of the high-heeled-marathon-running young women back home Sunday School teachers too?? And then I add, Delhi Mizo Sunday School is crazy. We spend half the time running after kids, jumping and prancing to action songs and sitting on the floor during art and craft hour. Sangtei, the pre-beginner teacher, I noticed, is always the first one to remove her shoes once she enters the hall. So I guess I'm not the only one! Between the heat, the 40 hyperactive kids stuffed in a painfully small room, the crazy action songs, the bible lessons and weird questions that 9 year olds would ask, the last thing I need to worry about is my feet!

I admire women who wear high heels and make it look comfortable. And as much as I want to master the art of wearing high heels, I still can't. But why bother wearing heels at all? Well, I know the majority of Mizo women will agree when I say that the Mizo puan is much more presentable when worn with heels. The higher, the better. With heels, suddenly you're puan-clad body look more svelte and suave, your curves more defined and you, all of a sudden, walk with such feminine gait. I love wearing puan and hence the heels become essential.

Battling the Delhi August heat in Puanchei and heels!! This is why if we've gone 3 inch, we've gone high enough!!

I salute the Mizo women who have master the difficult art in such a rugged terrain as our hilly abode. If you've ever worn high heels while walking downhill, you'll know what I'm talking about!! A friend of mine once told me there's a very steep road in her locality (Mission Vengthlang) that at first she thought no one would be able to walk down with heels. But no! She later told me that girls wearing 5 inch heels walked comfortably on those roads. The magic techinque??? They backed downhill!!! Smart Mission Vengthlang girls! It would be quite a sight watching girls back down the road without missing a step! I should remember to visit the friend on a Sunday afternoon the next time I go home!

I tried the same magic technique when I was in Aizawl during the summer. My dad and I were walking home from church and I was with a 3 inch heel, which suddenly felt like a 6 inch on a certain slope. I tell you, the magic technique is the smartest thing that you can do in such a situation.

Yet, my dad stared at me as if I've got some screws loose in my head.

"What are you doing?"

"Please stop"

"People are staring at you"

"Seni, walk properly please"

"Stop doing that"

And ultimately

"Stop right there and wait. I'll go home and come pick you up in a car".

He did!!!

And needless to say, the battle continues...

Ka Nu, I tan...

Ka Nu...

I haven't used that word in a long long time.

Eight years ago, on this day, my mother succumbed to cancer. No one allowed her to go even though she's been sick for six whole months. And we all knew that the dreaded day would come. It was a rainy foggy Sunday night. Church-goers were returning from the evening services and their chatter could be heard with the sound of the rain from the bedroom where she lay. She was tired of sleeping, my dad held her up on the bed. She smiled and said she liked it and then she told my dad she'd go! And she went... without a fight, without tears, without hesitation.

That afternoon, I sat quietly at a church in Shillong listening to a sermon on John 15:1-6. Pruning had been the topic. I remembered telling myself that, that time was the pruning phase in my life with my mother's sickness and all the problems that we've had within the family. I also remembered telling myself that the painful part will soon be over when new leaves start budding with new life. Little did I know how my 'pruning' would go!! After church service, my hostel bus went for a joyride at Golf Link. I stared at the setting sun for quite some time, feeling as if I've lost something great. A friend of mine, knowing my family situation and seeing my empty eyes, asked me if I wanted to pray. We did, in the meadows.

4 hours later, I received the phone call.

My 11 hour journey from Shillong to Aizawl for my Ma's funeral is another story in itself. A story, sometimes, too painful for me to retell.

However, this post is not about me reliving that painful day when I have to bury the woman who meant the world to me. This is about me attempting to pay homage to her memory.

If ever there was a life abundantly lived, it would have been my mother's. I learnt a lot of things from my mother's short yet abundant life.If I even try to list half the things I learnt from her or how much she meant to me, this post would have no end.

My Ma was no fancy woman. The only gold ornament she ever possessed in her lifetime was her wedding band. She never walked in expensive shoes or dressed fancy. She might have wanted to, she's also human, but she never did. She was one of the few women who kept others before themselves; one of the few who learnt that there's more to life than just loving, indulging and pampering oneself. I know that my Ma's no perfect woman. But here was a woman who lived such a full life that she helped prepare and plan out her funeral and stitched the cover of her very own coffin. My Ma, even on the valley of the shadow of death, walked with such grace and courage.  Knowing her, I couldn't help but say, she's the closest a human can get to being the Proverbs 31 woman.  

I hope to be like my Ma someday. Of course, I know I will never stand up to her. But trying doesn't hurt.

If these years of living without a mother taught me one thing, it's this: There will never come a day, when I'm old enough or matured enough to not long for a touch of her hand, the scent of her skin and the sound of her voice. In fact, I would give the world to hear her call my name just one more time.

Eight years ago, I stood by a window, rain fogging up the glass as I looked towards the cemetery where my mother had just been buried. I can still feel my heart breaking while realizing that I can't shield her from the rain and from the cold earth that enveloped her. I remembered opening her wardrobe and taking her scent in, wishing there was a way I could capture and keep that scent from fading. I remembered lying awake at night, thinking about her lying all alone in the cold, wet earth wishing I could do something to keep her warm. I remembered that feeling of utter desolation, of magnificent pain and gruesome loneliness. That night I made a promise to myself. And through these years, I've always reminded myself of that promise lest I succumb to the pain and loneliness.

Today, I make that promise once again.

Nu, I promise to always cherish your memory without forgetting how to live on...

Thantluangi Zathang  (1952 - 2003)

Full Name Basis

So I was on Facebook chat when all of a sudden, a chatbox popped up.

'Hmingthanzual'

'I dam em'

I realized my lips slowly curled up to smile. Full name basis!

We all know what it means to be on first name basis. But why is it so comforting for me to be in full name basis with someone?

It all goes back to green uniforms. Way back before Gatsby super hard gels. In our big classrooms with little furnitures, our teacher would call out our names just like the way we were officially named. And it caught on. Cause that's how we first came to know each other. On full name!

I finished high school with a majority of these people I called with full name. But after we graduated, we all moved on. 

Fast forwarding to five years after high school, I came to Delhi  to pursue a master's degree.

And suddenly, the 'Lalrinzuala' I used to share a lunch box in Second Grade was 'Mazuala'; the 'H. Lalnundiki' I used to sing with in Sunday School wouldn't turn untill you call her 'Madiki'. And 'Esther Vanlalruati' would sure get offended if I call her like that. Who's to blame, cause, there's no more 'Esther Sailo' who'd also look your way if you just use a first name!

Needless to say, there are a bunch of people I am on full name basis with. These are the people I've known since my first set of green uniforms and leaky lunch boxes (Was Tupperware in production then?). We all knew who cried the loudest at a teacher's cane, who lost bladder control at some point, who was the smart kid and who'd beat up a girl in class on a daily basis. We knew each other before we discovered make-up or hair gel, or the attraction with the opposite sex.

We knew each other during the awkward adolescence, when pimples and oily face was a plague, when boy bands were the center of our existence and back when the shape of our calves was the biggest problem in the world. We grew up knowing each others' imperfections and yet accepted and acknowledged each others' existence through the years.

We all know that there are some friends in life, who got seasoned with care, affection and good action. But I must say, nothing can beat friends who are but seasoned with time. And for me, those are my Full Name Basis people!

So when 'Robert Renthlei' messaged me on Facebook this morning, my mind clicked

 'Robert Lalhruaikima' Of Kulikawn. 

Lest I confuse him with 'Robert Lalchungnunga', another Robert I am on full name basis with!

To Zuali...

I know you can't quite read this yet. But one day when you do, you'll feel good to know that you are loved.

When you're dad called me up the day you were born, you were still cleaned and wrapped in the delivery room. Your dad laughed, "It's a girl again" he said. I could somehow sense the laced disappointment in the laughter. Don't blame him. He wanted a son ever since your eldest sister was born, but it doesn't mean he loves you lest.

Your two elder sisters were so excited that they could hardly speak to me when I called them up. "A Ni " they both squealed, " It's a little girl. We're gonna have a new playmate" . And though I am ecstatic for them, I somehow envy them in a way. I've always wanted to have a sister. Now don't get me wrong, your dad and uncles have been great brothers to me. But sisterhood is something much different; something that I will never have the privilege of experiencing in this lifetime. I am so glad, you will not miss out on this wonderful relationship.

When they gave you the name Lalhriatzuali  I was over the moon because you have a piece of my name. I don't know if they named you after me but it's good to know that I have a little namesake in you. Everyone may call you something else, but to me, you will always be Zuali, a perfect little piece of me.

I want you to know, my darling niece, to never underestimate yourself and the power of your existence. You are created with a purpose. A purpose no one else can fulfill but yourself. And as you grow up to face the world, there'll be times you doubt yourself. But each time it happens, I want you to remember that the moment I got that phone call from your dad, I sprouted a whole new heart to love only you. And the good news is that, I am not the only one. My love for you grew as I watched you grow through your parents' Facebook albums. I watch you sleep, cry, bathe and eat and now today, I watch you sit up with support. And I can see bits and pieces of myself in you already. You have your Grandma's eyes and that little chin, you got it from me, my little button. Yet in spite of all these little familiarities, you are a new person all on your own. Zuali, You are yet another miracle in my life.

I know that it's up to me and the family to make sure you enjoy growing up in this world. But this fallen world ain't perfect. And if ever a time comes when we make mistakes, it doesn't mean that we want second best for you. Remember, there's nothing in this life that can't be tackled with the help of a loving family, a little laughter, hard work and the Big Man Upstairs.

And as you grow up the world will tell you to follow your heart and just to be yourself. Don't listen to them my darling, for the heart can be deceptive. Lead your heart instead of following it. And never ever be content to be just yourself. Because there's honor in always striving to be the miracle that God created you to be.

Love,

XOX

A Ni

The Magic Words...

A  4 year old Sunday School student who is also a son of my classmate in high school came running to me showing me a little scrap on his tiny cheeks.

'U Zuali, niminah hei Sawmsanga'n a colour bawmin min vawm'

The other in question came running and hugged my knees before I could reply.

'Mahse U Zuali, 'Sorry' ka ti tawh a. Best Friends kan ni tawh'.

His friend nodded in agreement while proudly showing me his 'battle scars'. The two of them are neighbors and, as they declare, are also 'best friends'. Sawmtea and Sawmsanga.They always share a chair on Sunday School, meet each other everyday and, according to the family, will always end up in a fight with one of them crying. Sometimes the fights will count up to 4 times in a single day. But somehow they always make up before the day is done.

They have two magic words: Please and Sorry.

Please  is the magic word which can somehow persuade anyone into doing the thing that you 'politely' request them to do. Once this word is uttered, the other person will have to try his best to do what you request them to do... even the impossible. Once uttered, the person will do anything in his power to grant the request. Done. Once Sawmsanga wanted me to stay over at his place. Such incidents happen when a 4 year old proudly declares you in front of his family 'U Zuali hi ka chhianpa (Thianpa) ania'. I couldn't honor his request as I had an early class the next day. When I left, he was shattered, his face fell as he said 'Tinge U Zuali kha a haw? 'Please' ka ti reng sia'. I hated myself for breaking the bubble!

The other magic word Sorry mends every heart ache and every pain in the world. When uttered, Sorry, all fights stop. All wrongs are done right; everyone forgives; the slate is wiped clean; no past bruises and you can start all over again. Like the way that one forgives even though he still carries his battle scar and the other is bold enough to declare him his best friend because he has already uttered the magic word Sorry.

If only real life were this simple and we have pure hearts like these best friends, magic words like Please and Sorry would have more value in the world.

To my boys who taught me how to say and receive the magic words Please and Sorry! 

 And really mean it...

Love

XXOXX

In Chhianpa, 

U Zuali

Scale-Climbing

So after months of deciding, I finally got myself a weighing scale.  I hesitated for months only because I wasn’t sure about keeping a scale in my room lest I become obsessed with weighing myself again. I somehow, have always been comfortable with my body (even though I’m ‘pleasantly plump’) but since turning quarter-centurion (??), I decided to watch my weight. Vanity plays a questionable role in this decision. It’s not hilarious when you have to try on 23 pairs of jeans to find the perfect one which fits your curves! But mostly, I’ve become health conscious after years of watching my father with hypertension and an aunt with osteoporosis. With weak hearts from my father’s line and cancer from my mother’s side, I must say, I should be taking good care of my health.

I’ve finally kicked the habit of stocking up instant noodles in my room (the noodles in my tuck shelf are my roommates’! Pinky swear! And I promised to stop sharing!), stopped with fizzy drinks, cut down on red meat  pork, increased raw chlorophyll intake and started getting up early to go jogging! Phew!! And to top of all my hard work, I finally got around to having a scale in my room, hoping it’ll inspire me to weigh less stay fit!

Phabo (Read boyfriend) showed support in my recent fight for fitness and announced with pride that he’d buy me the scale. But after seeing the price tag and being the cool girlfriend that I am, I volunteered to pay half! I came back to my room proudly carrying the scale. My roommate screamed “Reality Check!!” when she saw me. Reality Check indeed!

So it’s been a few days since I bought it. And my favourite pastime is climbing on top of the scale. I check my weight before I eat, after I’ve eaten, before I go to bed, as soon as I get out of bed, with jeans, without jeans, with jacket, without jacket, with heels, bare feet, with boots, pre-library time, post-library time, pre-centre visits, post-centre visits. You name it, I’ve done it! It’s more like a game to me, climbing on it.

But unlike my fascination with naming everything I frequently use (like my e-toothbrush - Dr.Hawlkima , my e-blanket -  Lalbela , my hairbrush - Prof. Tawnengi,  my mini-fridge – Sir Viking , my hot-water bag - Calvin HotBod, my netbook - Lady Scarlett, mp3player – Pastor Zairemsiama, my woofer – Upa Thumvunga, my phone - Tv. Phuntinthanga etc.),  I haven’t quite come up with a name for this blue beast of burden weighing scale. And after all that he’s been through, I believe he deserves a really good name! Poor thing, I’m literally riding it! I can imagine him grunting “No! Not again!” every time I go near it. Of course, that imagination doesn’t stop me from doing what I do best – scale-climbing!

So it’s back to square one! I AM obsessed with weighing myself! I am, however, crystal clear with the fact that this obsession alone won’t help me stay fit. After all, I’m obsessed with weighing myself, and not with controlling my weight!

And with the hope that this obsession, just like all other obsessions, will one day wear off, I go scale climbing, yet again!