Two Days, Aizawl and Me

Technology delivers us with amazing speed to distance and diverse spaces. Places actually. One of my New Year resolutions was to make more people, places, faces and issues as my subjects. Everything has become more interesting than before. This is celebration. And I am doing it everyday. There are many things that strike me on my recent visit to Aizawl.

I landed on the lively city again on January 10, 2008. Except for the heavy weary head that the journey has lodged within me, I was trying hard to wake up to the setting evening where I was transferred after all those plastic smiles and compelled etiquettes by those air hostesses with their rainbow like faces spoilt by chemical makeup. I sometimes felt like asking them why they have to colour their faces like a clown. A little would have made them look naturally beautiful. But they would be so brittle with the idea of that little. I thought to myself that they must have earned enough to indulged with colours to enhance their ignorance of beauty culture. But fortunate lot that they did not die of the overdose makeup that has layered their most treasured parts of their body. Diwali like colourful faces equipped with that smile was not very welcoming. They negate the image of hospitality, which they desperately try to deliver. I don’t know if it was the sleepless night that did not help me see the layered beauty that they deliberately hide. I don’t think so. But they are just colourful than beautiful.

The next day was January 11. It is observed as “Missionary Day” in Mizoram. Churches across the state observed the 113th Missionary Day with revered spirits. As if to coincide the observation, I was lodged at Mission Veng. Reaping what the two missionaries, FW Savidge and JH Lorrain, sowed in the year 1894, Mizos flocked to their churches on the day. Worth a holiday as the missionaries introduced the alphabet and laid the foundation of education that empowers them for a humane march and progress. The missionaries were also appointed the Honorary Inspectors of schools for the schools that they opened. Lushai Hills, Mizoram today, got its first school on April 1, 1894. It is interesting to note that from April 1,1904 till 1952 educational administration in Mizoram administered by the church. “Zosap”, the two missionaries, also introduced sanitation and hygiene to the Mizos. Besides, the two pioneer missionaries took up the task of reducing the Duhlian dialect to writing by choosing the Roman script with a phonetic form of spelling based on the Hunterian system of transliteration. The Hunterian system for the writing of proper names was developed in the 1860s by William Wilson Hunter, Director-General of Statistics for India, and published in Hunter’s Guide to the Orthography of Indian Proper Names (Calcutta, 1871). The Government of India accepted the system with some modifications in 1872, and it was used in the official Imperial Gazetteer of India (1881 onwards; 24 volumes), a work initiated by Hunter.

The Duhlian dialect has grown to become a popular language for the Mizo people. Today, even the language is called Mizo.

It was a relief to drive around Aizawl on Missionary Day. The observation immensely reduced traffic flow. Besides, everyone were in their best Sunday dress on that Friday. Besides the rest, the seeds of education, hygiene and sanitation have made the people wiser, cleaner and beautiful. I remember a lady, aged around 40, from the heart of Manipur’s Imphal, who once told me that her mother in law would never allow her to cook or enter the kitchen during her monthly periods. She also told me that she would be served in a separate plate during that inevitable cycle. No one introduced that hygiene or sanitation to them while the catching-up was a sluggish one. I realised how fortunate we are. Small things deconstruct bigger things of all their negativities. Otherwise, another hundred years may not even empower reasonable faculties, as it is evident with others today.

On Missionary day, I got the detail report of the mysterious death of Reverend Chanchinmawi who died on October 1, 2007. His bloody body was found inside his house around seven in the morning. The report was made public by the public prosecutor of the special investigation team, SL Thansang. The report concluded that the reverend killed himself after causing multiple injuries – four cut above his right ear (25mm each), one cut injury stab wound on his throat (40mm wide and 25mm depth), two big cut injury on his left chest (both measuring 50mm and 25mm), three small cut injury on his left chest, nine cut mark on his abdomen and one small cut injury mark on his left elbow. The report also said that the pastor used one kitchen knife, one bread knife and a hammer to kill himself. The report is out, but I wonder if the truth is out. The report, however, doesn’t seem to hush up the views from the other sides. May his soul rest in peace.

It is interesting to note that the late Reverend, besides his service in the Church (Presbyterian Synod), was also the chairman of Mizoram People Front (MPF). MPF worked for a free and fair election in Mizoram. Moreover, the forum is strongly against the prevalent corruption in the State. I was told the forum has a good following.

The report also stated that in early part of the year 2007, the late reverend has been threatened several times over the phone for his mission to sweep Mizoram politics clean. The reverend was earlier accused by one fictitious writer in one of the local newspaper of his intention to join active politics, and to the extent of becoming Mizoram Chief Minister after his retirement. The former soul reaper’s death compelled the investigating team to look at various angles too. But they ruled out all of them. Some of them are seriously interesting, though. Some believed that his wife, Rohmingliani, who never live up to a pastor’s wife life, must be behind the reverend’s death. The report said the late pastor’s wife smokes, chewed tobacco and gamble at times. The report also exhumed the other side of the late pastor’s wife that says that she used to make and sell alcohol earlier. The report also said that their marriage life was not a healthy one. Besides, the report said that Chanchinmawi was living with severe financial problem that must have pushed him to take his life. He was also believed to be living with depression, which made him to attempt on his life earlier. Despite everything else, the axe fell on him. The soul reaper has been made to become his own life reaper.

On the same day, I also attended the 40 days and 40 nights fasting prayer organised by the Mizoram Berampute Convention at Durtlang’s Agape Centre. It was a soul touching and searching session for me as well. The mass prayer seeks for His forgiveness. While the Salvation Army Territorial Band performed a song without the vocals, Carolyn sang Ka Trongtraina Hla in Hmar without any musical instrument. It hit me like nothing ever did. I met Him through the song. I was in peace. The joy spill over my face. I couldn’t help much, but smile. Sometimes there’s no need of tears. Not even words. I met Upa Rokamlo and Lala Khawbung too.

The day after the missionary day was deliberately spent on a lighter route. In pursuit of my desire to document Aizawl, I tried seeing more places and people. I photograph some. My friend Saplientawn Varte took me to Millenium Centre, which has become the pride of Aizawl. Expensive stores spruced up with infectious dignity that has become the identity of Mizoram’s capitalist. There were popular branded stores too. I was told everything is too expensive in Aizawl. If the materialistic mad race and the uncontrolled pace continue it would fail to be friendly to its larger struggling population who are far from the tower of the power structure and State treasury. I witnessed that Mizoram business is run by its women, which I like. They are everywhere from the biggest stores to the smallest one. They are not only empowering themselves but also the State. It is surprising that none of them were elected as people’s representatives. I did not doubt that they would make better leaders and politicians. They were not given any chance in the patriarchal reigned ring. I asked my friend what the men folk does. He told me they are either driving taxis or zipping around the clogged roads on their bikes and cars. Of course they are also the politicians and church leaders too. Whatever, the Christian state is moving towards becoming a citadel of glitz and glamour. Few decades back, the iconic images of the city were of grim faces in breadlines and heroes from the jungle. Now billboards scream Nike, Reebok, Adidas, UCB and showcase expensive clothes to the many window shoppers. The big show does not seem to lure much. The supposed boom time is a privilege of the few. There are also billboards that warns and caution about AIDS and safe sex. Moreover, Mizoram, the epicenter of the gregarious flowering of bamboo, is confronting the threat of famine. Aizawl, however, is no place to see the grim reality of those distressed Mizo farmers and populace. People in Aizawl did not really know what is happening outside the State capital. The city that sits on the edge is a big fair where local celebrities are generated and fashion fluctuates to prick pockets. This time, I was told, Korean movies are moving Mizos to tears. Earlier they were hooked to the Hindi serial, Kasauti. This time Korean movies were shown on cable TV with Mizo sub-titles. That’s not all. I read on January 12 that Mami Varte’s fans have established “Mami Varte Kohran” in Aizawl. Another idol to worship. Aizawl is a city of small gods. It is also moving with ambitious energy that is inclined towards increasingly expensive ways of life and plastic superstructure culture.

In the evening I met Atea (Boomarang’s vocalist) when I was on my way to Aizawl Post office. He introduced me to Victor (ex-Magdalene guitarist), LRa and Tawia. Victor told me about his newly formed band, Scavengers Project with LRa on vocals and Tawia on drums. Victor invited me to his house for tea. We had a long discussion on music, culture and identity. Victor had a cosy small home studio- Scavenger Records. They interest me a lot as they are seriously digressing to find a new sound, a different one for themselves. The boys are also bringing out a purely music magazine, R.O.A.R., with Victor as the chief editor. I was surprised to find my picture of Boomarang on the cover. There were many pictures of mine inside too. No courtesy though. That’s called sharing. I was invited for dinner by one of Aizawl’s most eligible bachelor, a lady lawyer, Mawite. It was another Eve’s ambrosia. The night sparkles again to make the city look like a Christmas tree. I am homely here, I said to myself. But I made it second for me.

(New Delhi, January 18, 2008)