The Garage Encounter: Why I am a Christian and why I choose to be one...

I'm sure I'm not the only one who comes across such questions...

"Why are you a Christian?"

"Aren't Mizo's all Christian?"

"Had you been born into a different religion, would you still be a Christian?"

And lately in University...

"The Bible is so patriarchal. How can you accept such injustice to women?"

"Creationist theory? C'mon, Zuali, you know better than that? Fossils don't lie"

Well, let me start by reintroducing myself...

My name is Hmingthanzuali. I am known as Zuali by most and Seni by family. I was born in a Christian family and I made the choice to be a Christian a few months before I turned 19. Of course, I would be lying if I said that my upbringing in a Christian family didn't influence my decision. But since then, I have never looked back or regret my decision to do so. I made the decision to be a Christian when I was in the darkest abyss of my life, with a mother dying of cancer. The reason why I chose to be a Christian is because Christ gave me hope through that dark time and everyday since then.

If you are a Mizo, you will agree with me when I say that many, in fact most, of the Christian-family-brought-up-Mizos are 'born again' at salvation campings that the churches in Mizoram love to organise. I have nothing against that. 

But my story is a bit different. I met Jesus Christ in a garage.

A makeshift garage with an old rusted tin roof as one of its walls. It was a rainy July night in Shillong and I had just got off the phone with my mother who, without wavering, told me her exact condition after her latest checkup. "I am going to die" she told me " the doctors gave me a maximum of three months to live. I don't want to hide the truth from you because I want you to prepare yourself for it ". I cried and told her that I will be strong, that I am not afraid and asked her to be strong and not be scared. 

I lied. 

That was in fact, the last lie I told my mother.

The truth was that I hung up the phone, collapsed on the cold hard floor of the PCO and wept. My mother was my fortress, my savior and someone I always run to at the end of any problem. And I don't want to live in a world without her in it.

That night whatever prayer I said wasn't enough to help soothe the pain. So that's when I escaped into the old garage so that I could have my time to confront God, get angry with him and blame him for the things that are happening to my mother - a good Christian woman. I never did. Because I didn't have the strength to fight.  So instead, I begged God - my mother's God, the God that she had been serving for all those years, to help me. My prayers were from a broken soul and is not made up of words pleasing to the ears. I did not make any promises to follow Him nor did I offer any leverage.

"Ka nu Pathian kha Pathian nung I nih chuan, rawn che ta che"

(My mother's God, if You are alive, make Your move)

And move, He did. The peace in my heart right at the moment was assurance enough. Then and there, my heart was filled with hope and courage. And I know that Jesus Christ indeed lives. I made the decision to follow Christ that night in front of the old green jeep with a rusty bonnet cover. Why would I not?? If you felt the peace and safety I felt in my heart that night, you would too.

My mother succumbed to cancer three weeks after. I miss her everyday, but I am at peace because I know that it's just a matter of time before I meet her again. Having that divine peace makes me look for a brighter tomorrow. It always makes me see a silver lining in every dark cloud and a rainbow after every rain. It's that divine hope which tells me that no matter how dark the night or how big the problem, God will lead me out of it one day, and I will learn something from that pain and hurt. That divine peace is the reason which makes me say today, that if my mother had still been here with me, I would never learn how to love my dad like I love him now. 

Being a Christian is not easy. It will never be easy. It's a struggle everyday following the Perfect Man's footsteps. And I am definitely not the best Christian. Sometimes I wonder if I ever make the cut of a 'good Christian' but nonetheless, despite all the problems and the struggles, it's definitely worth it because in the end, you have the hope and peace that 'transcends all understanding'.

This post is not about a philosophical viewpoint on the faith that I follow. And sadly I cannot argue on the fact that we Christians are sometimes, the biggest hypocrites in existence. History will confirm this ugly truth. And I'm not here to argue about how you practice your faith or if it's good or bad. I'm not here to be 'Miss Goody Two Shoes' to boast about my Christian upbringing or how regular I am in front pew of the church. This is, but, my brief account on my personal encounter with Christ and why I choose to follow Him.

By the time you get to this line, you might already find this ridiculous or even have an unconscious sneer on your face. But my point is that, I met God when I was at the lowest point in my life, when reason and religious cordiality have totally eluded me. If you think that God is present only in the vicinity of religious buildings or religious people, or that you can have an encounter with Him only in church gatherings, crusades or salvation campings... just remember that I met Him in a garage.

After all, it's the heart that matters...

Summer in the Capital

June heat in the capital was magnificent. Now July rolls in with its 'I-drown-just-by-breathing' humidity and here we are, still praying for rain. I couldn't help but sigh when I flipped today's paper to see reports and pictures of priests performing pujas  to appease the rain gods. Rain - Something which already is more of a curse back home in the hills, is an awaited blessing to the people in this city. An awaited blessing, this evening too, as the skies darken  but still no rain. Maybe tonight is the night it will finally rain, or maybe it's just another evening when the skies decide to troll us - rain-deprived folks, yet again.

Dear God, Please heal the Delhi skies of its chronic constipation problem.

I have lived in the city for the past six years and I pride myself in being one of the very few Delhiites who live without an AC or a cooler. But this year, when the minimum temperature refuses to go below 32 degree Celsius, I was tempted to buy a cooler. Tempted. But then the humidity peaks up, and I changed my mind. I have weak lungs, you see, I survived a hereditary TB (unlike two uncles) during my second year of college and I am a fan of well ventilated areas. High humidity makes it difficult for me to breathe and that is why I hate cities like Kolkatta (I make sure I never get out of the airport during overnight transit flights.),Guwahati and Chennai. And I can assure you I will never be a beach babe.

Probably because of the heat, twice this summer, snakes have entered the ground floor of our wing in the hostel, to seek solace in the bathrooms and cooler areas. In both the occasions, I was so glad I lived on the first floor. But I was curious enough to sit on the steps, sweating while watching the hostel guards try to catch the snakes with their lathis !!!! And catch they did not, until a professor from the School of Life Sciences showed up and caught the snakes with his bare hands!

This summer, whether we want it or not, we have to bathe in hot/warm water, even at 1 AM. Thanks to the 'room' temperature! The only time, I've noticed, that we get access to cool water is in the mornings yet before sunrise. So we all take a hot shower and cool ourselves under the fan!! Ah!! Had it been winter... if only!

But what's great about Indian summer?

Oh! The amount of water we drink!! I drink about 5-7 litres of water every single day, I sweat like a pig and pimples are at bay. Whether you like it or not, it's a free sauna/steam bath for every hour of load-shedding when the electricity goes out. All that water intake and all that sweating must be good for something. The summer glow beats any make-up look!! A little kajal and a lipbalm, you're ready for church or any formal event, though you have to arm yourself with tissues and blot sheets.

It takes only a few hours to air dry your laundry even in the shade. Before the humidity sets in, it takes about an hour. Yes, I've timed them. There was a day when I did three batches of laundry in an afternoon, all dried and pressed by sundown.

A midnight walk in the campus with a melting ice-cream in hand or a glass of refreshing Nimbu Paani  is something I always look forward to.

Water Melons. Cheap, juicy, sweet water melons!

Aaaaaaand......... that's about it. ^__^

Delhi summer in its peak ain't that great. Of course, everyone knows this. But when you live in such heat, you take it with a generous pinch of salt. And we don't complain, rant or update our angst about the heat on every single Facebook status updates, like many of my Facebook friends from Aizawl do, when the heat in the hills reaches to the minimum of what we have here!!

(Aha! There I go! I'll brace myself for the negative thoughts some of you might be spearing my way for my last line! :D )

My perfect Now Vs. My real Now

In my perfect now,


I study 8 hours a day
I sleep 8 hours a day.
I 9gag less, Facebook less and blog more.
I'm a morning person. I wake up a skylark at 6 AM, half of the day's chore is already done by 9 AM and I retire for the day two hours before midnight.
I'm a lady through and through.
I eat healthy and I exercise well.
I'm best buds with the hottest nerd on the planet, Zachary Levi. 
I master the Government and Binding theory of Syntax.
Delhi is in it's November temperature.
I trust God without panicking.


But,

In my real now,

I hardly study 3 hours a day
I sleep 5 hours a day on an average.
9gag, Facebook and studies go hand in hand, which muddles my mind on what to blog about.
I wake up so late that sometimes I miss breakfast and as a result toss around in my bed till 3 AM.
Sometimes, I get tired of being a girl.
Fresh veggies and fresh fruits are things of the past and a walk to the mess hall counts as my daily exercise.
I get overexcited when Zach Levi's bot retweeted me and kept watching his videos on Youtube.
I bang my head on the table by Page 21 of the 600 paged Syntax Theory book that I am currently studying.
Delhi records the highest minimum temperature of the season. Read: 34 degree Celsius.
I get overly agitated and confront God with my problems!!


In my perfect now, I would have concluded the post with a positive tone.


But this is my real now...

Stop and Stare: A Breakup Story

Have you ever given a thought this way?

Every relationship ends in only two ways. You either make it or you break it.

If you know me in person you might wonder why I'm writing this. Yes, my life may be an open book but there are parts of me that I long to keep to myself. And I have my fair share of skeletons in the closet too. But this post is not about me mud-slinging the other, it's not an attempt at self-justification and it's not about me trying to tell the world "I can live through another heartbreak". Let me be honest, this post is a vent. And if you are uncomfortable with vents, then I suggest you go elsewhere!

Ah! Relationships. What do we know about it??? Who can be called an expert??? Because no two relationships are the same.

The boyfriend (the ex-boyfriend rather) and I were together a few months shy of five years. And at an age when there are marriage rumours flying about, we stopped and stared.

If you ask me, there are many reasons and no real reason for the breakup. There were simply too many unresolved issues stacked in the corner that were left ignored. A time eventually came when we have to clean that corner and realized we haven't resolved anything yet. A mistake, I concur, on our part, was also that we both tend to prioritize a third party's opinion more than it deserved. Sometimes I wish we had someone who'd bang our heads together and tell us that someone else's opinion of us is none of our business. Maybe we had a 'five year itch' or maybe after five years, we realized that we are too different or maybe we had 'cold feet' once we realized we're 'coming of age'. Or maybe we took each other for granted. But nonetheless, we stopped and stared.

And to think that we had our lives planned out... 

How could we be more wrong? Until the truth slaps us on our face and stops us in our tracks. "You can't plan Life". I cannot be a bigger fool because time and time again, I've faced this crossroad yet by the next curve I lull myself into believing I have my life and my plans under control. He's a good person. One of the few genuinely decent men left in this world. I don't think I'm the worst either. But sometimes, you just don't know what the next curve holds.

So what's bad about a breakup?

The painful part, for me, I would say, after five years, is one of those nights you just can't go to sleep and you find yourself absent-mindedly dialling his number, only to realize that it's no longer right for you to wake him from his sleep  just because you can't get yours.  Or a friend or a relative you haven't met for quite sometime asked you how he's doing. But the worst for me, and the ultimate awkward moment came, when a uncle (read: father's friend) who was on a visit to the capital came up to me after church and asked me if we have set the date (for a wedding!). It was at that moment that the weightage of five years and your own age sunk in. I must brace myself, because I'm sure there will be more awkward moments to follow since we still live in the same city, and have more or less, the same circle of friends.

But breakups, I must add, aren't all bad. The other side of the coin is filled with hope. I've done a lot of soul searching after the break up. I have learnt how comfortable I've become, being an appendage of another; comfortable to the extent that I've almost forgotten to dream my own dreams. I've also reflected on how useless and selfish an appendage I have been and quietly made a mental note that if I ever had a chance to be a part of someone's life in that way gain, I'd make changes and improvements. But right now, to me, being single means I'm less stressed; I no longer need to mentally prepare myself to accept a person who has been backstabbing me for years; I can make plans for myself; I can cut my hair to whatever length I want to or even colour it blue, or pierce my earlobes a dozen times over. So far, I've enjoyed being alone so much more than I expected.

Like I've said before, I don't know what life has in store for me.

We could be given a second chance, or this could be the end of our story. 

Either way, whether we want it or not, the world's not gonna stop for us. Life will go on. And I know it will still be beautiful, whether we choose to see it or not. 

But in the meantime, I stop and stare. And go deeper and deeper still. I know that this happened for a reason. And whether I learn the reason or not, I know I should make lemonade out of the lemons that life threw at me. Or a lemon tart. Or a lemon pie. Or a lemon martini. :) 

A Father's Day post

Once during a Bible discussion group, a friend talked about how important a role that fathers play in our understanding and relationship with God, the Father. Misha went on to talk about her childhood and how difficult it was for her to understand God's love, because the only father figure she ever had in her life was a man who was abusive to her  for years and who, in the end, abandoned Misha and her mother for another woman. She later told me that the Bible story she had problems with the most was the parable of "The Prodigal Son". I remembered listening to her story often paused with sobs and sullen anger and for the first time, being really thankful for my father. 

That happened only a few years ago. I admit with shame that, before Misha's story, I had taken my father for granted.

So today, I'll take the time, get back on radar and blog about my dad. Forgive me if I brag, but if I do brag, let me brag about my thankfulness for having such a dad. 

I was 18 when my mother passed away. Until then, I must admit, I looked to my dad as more of a financial support than a parent. But these nine years without Ma has taught me how much of a parent he really is and how hard he tries to be a father to my brothers and I, each single day. I admire everything about my dad, but the one thing that stands irrevocably prominent is the Big Gesture that he made for me by allowing me to stay away from home for these many years. It might not be a big deal to some, but for me, it's the greatest sacrifice that my father can make!.

You see, I am an only daughter and I have been away from home since I turned 16. After Ma passed away, there hasn't been anyone to take care of and run the house. And with running the house, I literally mean 'running the house'. People who know me in person know that my father has a career in politics. And it is a known truth that politicians and pastors get criticized the most from the way their children lived their lives. Politicians and pastors again, need a good home support system. A support system which I, as an only daughter to such a father, should provide. No matter how hard I try to live my imperfect life perfectly, at the end of the day, I am but a daughter who stays a million miles away.

Soon after I graduated, uncles and aunts and what-nots have put constant pressure on my dad to ask me "to come home and take care of the house". And especially after dad lost in the last election, the pressure grew to "How are you going to support her? We all know how expensive living in Delhi is! Ask her to come home, a Master's degree is more than enough. Anymore than that, no one will marry her". My dad was quiet. And when it was time, he dropped me to the airport, waved me off and told me to go fight for my dreams. I know that all the uncles and aunts and what-nots, somehow, want the best for me and my dad.  They could see that my dad was all alone and he needed someone to take care of him and help him run the house. But despite their good will, giving me a chance at doing what I want to do was just out of question. Why? "Because you're a girl. Once you come of age you'll be married off. Why spend so much time and money on you?". And here I thought we are living in the 21st century!! Well, Hello!!

Once after overhearing such 'pressures' being put on my dad, I exploded. I went to my grandparents, bawled my eyes out and even went to the extent of telling my grandpa that my uncles should 'just shut up'. Word must have gotten around. It's been years since such 'pressures' were put on my dad. What was so precious to me was that my dad put his foot down against the family and choose to give me a chance at an education that I've always wanted. Even though he knew, by doing so, the house would be empty and he'd have no one to take care of him or keep him company.

My dad has always supported me in what I want to do, where I want to go and even who I want to date. Unlike many Mizo fathers who stay away from their daughters' emotional escapades, my dad has been there for me for the biggest heartbreak of my life and right now, giving me constant support through, yet, another heartbreak. When you have a father who cherish you as such, you'll never settle for second best. And when you have a father who trusts you so much, breaking his trust is the last thing you want to do.

Today, I want to tell my dad that he is my hero and his love is the reason why God's love seems so real to me. I want to tell my dad, that I fought for my dreams only because he fought for me; that if I am a trustworthy daughter, it's only because he has been a trustworthy dad. That if I am a woman who is respected, it's because he taught me to respect myself; that if  I ever meet a man who truly loves me, it's only because  my dad taught me how to love; that if I'm a good human being, it's only because I learnt it from him.

Pa,

Min hmangaihzia leh ka tana i inpek nasatzia ka hmuhin, Pathian hmangaihna ropuizia min hriatnawntir thin. Nang ang pa ka neih che avang hian, Pathian hmangaihna hi a takin ka hmu nawn fo thin a; Pathianin malsawmna min pek zawng zawng zinga ropui ber chu nangmah hi i ni asin. Pa, ka hmangaih che!

Happy Father's Day!