'Just as I am'

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!!”

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.

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”

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’?

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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’.

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.

‘Best I can be’ is selfless while ‘Just as I am’ is self centric.

‘Best I can be’ makes a better half while ‘Just as I am’ makes a bitter half.

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.

They all look at me.

Flabbergasted .

A second of eerie silence.

Then all of them started speaking at the same time.

“But it doesn’t always work that way”

“You really think so???”

“But you have always been the weird one with the weird outlook!!”

“Dang! I should’ve married you instead!”

I went back to my laptop. Smug. Nose in the air.

I took the last comment as a compliment.

Who would you be or who would you choose? 

From Lunglei, With Love

She smiled at me.

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.

Little did I know that a smile of an unknown child would make my day!

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.

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.

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 )

Me being me :  Fooling around with a skit prop for College Fresher's day!! 

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.

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. Leitlangpui 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!!

The view from the our Faculty Room. I lodge somewhere down there!

But love dawns!!

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.

God is good.

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.

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.

And when things don’t go too well, little delights appear!!! Like the brown-eyed girl with that smile! God is good!!

So here’s a bright ‘Hello’ after going off radar for a long time.

New Beginnings are beautiful. Indeed!!

From Lunglei, With Love.

Against the Norm: Dreaming in Colours!

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... 

Rainy Days and Untold Stories

I’ve always loved rainy days… especially when I don’t have to go to work or venture out.

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!

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.

Or I’d write.

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.

But those were days of long ago…

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.

It didn’t.

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!

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!

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!

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!!

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!!

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 “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 didn’t have an answer. I probably never will…

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!!

I’ve always loved rainy days… especially when I don’t have to go to work or venture out.

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.

But there are two sides to every story.

And this is just my side of the story.

What’s your story?

...You...

Dancing with the shadows,

Couldn't help but face the dark.

Shadowed Past bruised my heart

So I bruised yours in return!

And there are times I bled your pride

Shamed your name

Cloud your fame

But all the while you held my hand.

They tell me love, sweet love

Gives you fireworks;

Makes your heart go racing;

Gives you wings to fly.

They tell me love, Sweet love

 Feels like falling;

 Sweeps you off your feet;

Makes you want to soar.

But, love is what you showed me...

I get lost in the shadows,

You show me  the light.

My storm blew;

You bend quietly till it pasts.

You held my hand though it bleeds yours;

Wiped my tears instead of yours.

You’d rather be the last so I could be the first;

The dark sky, so my star could shine bright.

You gave me hope against hopeless hours;

Forgiveness through forsaken times;

Gravity to keep my feet on the ground;

Strength when my fight is gone!

So the next time, they ask me what love is…

No, I won’t tell,

I’ll show them…

… You...!

(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 shall miss it terribly...)

New Hopes and New Years

Happy New Year.

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. 

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.

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...

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?!

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.

So here's to a Happy New Year, a new year filled with new hopes and new dreams...

Shame

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. 

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. 

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 autowallahs 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.

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.

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 salwar suit, complete with the dupatta. 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 salwar, 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. 

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! 

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.

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 brilliant article.

...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.

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!

Praying for the victim (who continues fighting for her life as I write), her injured friend and her family!!

Photo Journal: Meanwhile....

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.

Meanwhile......

I spent an evening with the sisters watching an rerun of '27 dresses', eating beef roast and lots and lots of green tea.

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**

So I was making omelettes for my cousins when...

It's the first time in my life that I came across so many double yolks in one plate. Calories aplenty, dear cousins!!!

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...

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'!

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.

And he looks to the light...

 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.

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

What happened in your 'meanwhile'...??

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??

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!

Mindblock: The attack of the 'scumbag brain'

So, it happened to me again...

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.... constipation!! 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.

Mindblock.

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!!

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.  

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!!

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!

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.

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. 

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.

Well, we, or rather I have never talked about it again... until this post!!! 

That was definitely 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! I wonder what I've done to make it decide to!

Life so fragile

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 auto. Every auto I came across would go only at double the price. I haggled, quarrelled and threw a mental punch at one auto wallah 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.

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.

I sat there in the lobby. Quiet. I was alone in a crowd with everyone else buzzing about me...

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.

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…

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. 

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!!

Live each day well, for you never know when you'll not wake up to a new day!!