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!

Against Cancer...

It all started when my roommate came across a certain pamphlet about a certain walk against cancer on World Cancer Day.

Cancer. The word made me sit up. I decided then and there that I will be a part of the walk.

So, Sunday Morning, after a fitful sleep, my roommate and I left for the venue which we still have to locate. All we know is that the walk will be flagged off at some sports ground at Vinay Marg in ChanakyaPuri at 8:30 AM. We left campus at 7:00 am, sleep deprived and hungry. We reached the venue before the gates were opened and we were one of the first people to spot-register!

The event turned out to be an international event organised by an NGO CanSupport. The walk aimed to sensitise people about the growing threat of cancer and the need to face this challenge by aiding the growth of services that help people cope with the aftermath. Rubbing shoulders with VIPs, ambassadors and cancer survivors, we walked 4kilometres that day around ChanakyaPuri.

.

In the crisp morning air, with late-winter sunrise, it felt good to be a part of something worthwhile. It was an emotional moment for me when cancer survivors took their ‘lap of honour’ in the sports ground. They were later carried in a special vintage cars and motorbikes at the 4 km walk. People from all age groups, different nationalities and backgrounds were present in the walk. Children on bikes and rollerblades ran along us, while toddlers in prams with milk bottles could be spotted occasionally. We all walked against Cancer, we walked for hope and support !

Cancer survivors walking the 'lap of honour'. They were the rockstars of the day!

Walking down the scenic Shanti Path at ChanakyaPuri!

I walked for my mother, who succumbed to a battle with cancer seven years ago. I remember the agony that this dreadful disease threw the family into; I remember the hopelessness the family felt when Mom was diagnosed; I remember the pain of letting her go and the dark, dark cloud that shrouded us in the years that followed. I won’t want anyone else; any family to go through that. Yet, every other month, I hear news about a distant relative, a neighbour, a family friend inflicted with the disease. There’s not much I can do for them except pray. But today I walk. I walk for all my far and near ones who suffer from and who succumbed to cancer.

I walk for hope, I walk for support, I walk against cancer!

Candle of Light.

Be a candle of light;
To someone today.
Bring hope and care;
A long their way.

Reach out your hand;
To a survivor’s path,
Help them now;
To smile and laugh.

For love is healing,
No greater gift.
Found in a heart;
Who gave a lift.

Mona Adams . .. survivor

Dual Identity??

I remembered the first time I felt different for being a Lai. I was 9.

I stood second in class, getting ahead of my best friend who was also my classmate and who also lived in the same locality. The next day she blurted in class, “Ka nu in ‘Hmingthanzuali te chu Pawi Chhia alawm an nih. Anni hnam chhia aiin engngatinge I tihchhiat?’ min ti”.

I cried on my way home that evening.

Yes, I am 100% Lai. Trace both my parents and you will not find a single drop of Lusei blood in my veins. Yet I was born in Saiha, the Mara capital where my father was previously posted and I grew up in Aizawl where my family settled down. My name is definitely not a Lai name. The first language I speak is Mizo and I like Puanchei much more than Hnika. I know that my parents hailed from the south and as a child I looked forward to visiting my grandparents at the end of every year. I know I am a Lai and I also embraced myself as a Mizo. Yet at the tender age of 9, I didn’t know that being a Lai, would somehow provoke my best friend (or her mother?) into labelling me to something as derogatory as ‘Pawi chhia’!

After that incident, I struggled to embrace myself for years. I always thought that being a Lai would somehow mark me apart. And I hated being different! I didn’t like being a minority.

When I reached high school, my life changed. My best friend and I drifted apart due to some reason and I learnt how to embrace myself. I started learning Lai, my ethnic language and explored the traditional norms. I talked to a few family members asking why we are called Pawi in the north rather than Lai. I traced back history, what little we had, read some papers back from even the colonial period. My research was mostly fuelled with anger and past bruises. I made a conclusion but never reached reconciliation. I taught and convinced myself to be proud of who I am and my lineage. But I prefer to stay silent! Silent, when a neighbour accused a family friend saying “Pu Muana hian kan vengah Pawi chhe veng a siam” Our family colony had just come up and Pa Muana had helped us acquire the land. I stayed silent when I feel alienated; silent when I feel different!

When I was in college in Shillong, a good friend of mine who was also a one-time Lai Student’s president told me about an incident. He was invited to certain tribe fresher’s social where he was given time for a 2 minute speech. In his speech he mentioned that we, Lais, Luseis, Maras, Hmars etc are all Mizos. After he was done speaking, he realized not a single person in the hall gave him a clap. He told me he felt all eyes on him as he walked back to his seat. The next person who stood up however thundered to a huge applause “Lai chu Lai, Mizo chu Mizo, Mara chu mara. Chu chu chatuana kan nihna tur ani!” I clearly remember his sour smile as he said “Mizo nih do fe fe hi chu kan awm mawle”.

When I finally came to Delhi for my post-graduation in Linguistics, for the first time I felt special for being a minority. Since I speak a language, two languages in fact, which are lesser known, my term papers and my presentations were always viewed with keen interest by my professors. In fact, one professor stole a Mizo sound from my term paper for a Phonetics Practical Exam. I smiled silently and transcribed it while my classmates scratched their heads. And finally now, for my PhD, I picked a topic on the typological study of Mizo and Lai. It will be another four years before I familiarize and master myself with this topic, but even just writing a synopsis on two languages I call my own, makes me excited. I know that I will learn more about myself in the coming four years through my topic. Apart from that, I will be the lucky one when I go for fieldwork with half of my relatives, who still reside in the south, are still fluent with the language and still well-versed with Lai traditions.

Today, I’ve finally reached reconciliation.

I am a Lai. I am a Mizo.

I have learnt that being a Lai doesn’t stop me from being a Mizo. And being a Mizo will not swallow up my Lai identity either.

I prefer to be silent but don’t blame me if I laugh when so-called-best-friends call me ‘Pawichhia’ and certain wasted neighbours talk about ‘Pawichhe Veng’. I have to come to learn that in life, irrespective of tribe and caste, it’s always the small people who try to keep other ‘small’ people down. Those people are the ones who are insecure about their own identity. Those people are actually the ‘Hnam Chhia’.

January: Highs and Lows

Well it's second week of February already! And my review of January, my highs and lows; my yays and nays finally got listed!

Highs

E-blanket/bedwarmer: Eversince my college days in Shillong, by October, I always swear I’ll get married. Well, because of the cold. And the winter ‘swearings’ followed me down to Delhi.

Well, not this winter!! A friend of mine got a new e-blanket/bedwarmer and ordered one for me too (all the way from Champhai). We named it ‘Lalbela’!! With Lalbela to warm my bed before I get in who needs a warm body next to you? I survived the cold Delhi winter only with a single blanket, and it’s all thanks to my Lalbela.

Jogging started: After almost six months, my four year old jogging shoes are finally put to use. I jog 5 km in THE MORNINGS! Waking up at 6 AM in Delhi winter can be painful, but somehow I rolled out of my bed and put on my shoes and jogged. I was just so proud of myself that I have to pick up the phone and call my dad!

Microsoft One Note: I am so so in love with this darling. I’ve been handling everything from daily notes to timetables to brochure designs to research notes with this baby.

Facebook’s Cityville: One word: ADDICTIVE!!

Wella Kolestint hair colour: Finally a grey coverage without drying my ‘steel-wooly’ hair. I am not the type to usually colour my hair. But a friend of mine once told me that I couldn’t rock the salt and pepper look even with my confidence. I colour my hair ONCE a year. Repeat ONCE a year. But I gave in this year to Wella Kolestint Colour. No more greys and yes! I do rock the Plum hair rather than the grey temples.

This picture - definitely a high! I found this stack of newspapers in a friend’s room and I simply have to click a picture with it!! Seems he was saving it for rainy days! What can I say?? I admire persistence (and height!).

My new 10 inch screen Netbook: Worth every penny! I’m in love with it. I'm still hoping to blackmail my Dad into buying me a new desktop so that I wouldn't dump everything on this baby. I know, I'm being greedy but I really miss photoshopping!

Lows

Snail MTNL connection: It’s three weeks and counting for these MTNL people to connect the modem after the phone connection!

Winter Dandruff really got me to oiling my hair with all kinds of oil, some of which gave me permanent headache with their smell. I gave up, bought a pack of Nizral and there goes my dandruff (and my almost silky tresses)!! I feel like I have jute on my head rather than hair! :(

Writer's block??? I can’t bring myself to write a single page for my research work! I should sit in the library more often!

Torn contact lenses speak for itself. I have to wait for my next fellowship installments for a new pair of contacts. Until then, i'll give rest to eye make-up and look dorky!

Well, there goes my month! I hope to have more highs in February! :D

Blast from the Past!

My phone rang as I was carefully removing my waterproof mascara. People who know me will know that it was a Sunday evening because I'm one of those lazy people who wear make-up hence mascaras only on Sundays. So, it was just another evening after a youth fellowship when my phone rang. I picked the call holding the phone with my shoulder against my cheeks, squinting so as not to get the makeup-remover in my eyes!

A very familiar voice struggled to speak in Mizo “Hello, meltranu khonge i om?” with all the flats and highs. I paused everything. Ouch! As my eyes sting with the makeup remover, I realized I recognised the voice and not everyone calls me ‘meltranu’ especially with that tone! I also know that the voice belonged to someone I haven’t met for five long years. The voice asked me to come to a certain eating joint where ‘four handsome guys await’ for me.

I ran all the way to that eating joint.

Not because ‘four handsome guys await’ for me; not because I haven’t met the owner of the voice in a million years; not because I’m particularly fond of the running exercise but because I was excited to get a surprise blast from the past.

When I reached, it wasn’t four but five guys who waited for me… (The ‘handsome’ part, I’m not too sure!) My seniors and my friends from my college days! Well, we weren’t in the same college back then but we all were churned in the same ‘character home’. Back then we were more proud of being “New Life Graduates” rather than being college graduates with whatever honours. And all that ‘character building’ somehow still gave us a bond.

We talked, laughed, poked and yet talked within the 30 minutes that we get to meet. After they left, I came back to my room, crawled under the blankets and realized just how much I miss them. We’ve changed over the years. Some of us gained a lot of weight, some came pathetically thin and some of us stayed the same (hopefully). Two of us are in research while some are future civil servants. One however turned out to be an associate pastor (which doesn’t surprise me at all!!).

We had an unlikely meeting, totally unplanned and I’m not sure if we’ll ever meet again but I’m indeed glad to have such a meeting with my ‘old’ people.

I can’t say I will always remember this blast from the past. But when I do, I’ll be happy and maybe steal a few silent laughs!!