tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16616458667084168122024-03-05T17:57:36.351-08:00Secrets Be DamnedSome thoughts, some impressions, some incidents...none of these are secrets anymore!Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-78358002607626076752012-05-09T01:18:00.004-07:002012-05-09T01:18:53.583-07:00Watching Baby Grow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today, I'm starting a new series "<b>Watching Baby Grow</b>" to document the "awww" moments as I watch my toddler learn new things. I'll try to back-track to last month when she started going to play-school and day-care. This first post will include the mile-stones and "awww" moments observed till date during this 30-day period :)<br />
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<b>Apr 9, 2012</b><br />
Baby J starts playschool. She is all excited and enters her school smiling, not even caring to look back at her anxiety ridden parents. All of 19 months and 17 days, she is social and loves dancing to feet-tapping numbers. She waves to all and sundry and tries to speak with her Hindi-speaking classmates in Meiteilon :) <br />
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By the end of the week, she's picked up a couple of Hindi expressions: <i>le-lo, akeli, nei.</i> She's also throwing attitude if she doesn't want to eat. She crosses her arms, purses her tiny lips, sniffs, and then says <i>nei </i>in a very stern, no-nonsense manner. But she doesn't cry--not for long anyway. If she starts crying, she'd stop soon after, muttering in Meiteilon <i>kap tounu </i>(Don't cry). My heart aches looking at her although the attitude annoys me to no-end!<br />
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<b>Apr 16-22, 2012 </b><br />
Baby J is now well settled in the playschool, and is now ready to start staying longer at the day care. Having forgotten to inform the authorities to take her straight to the day-care unit after play-school is over, she meets her Dad in the school lobby. She experiences separation anxiety, and so does her dad. :(<b> </b> <br />
The next three days are no better--she's bawling every time she sees the school gate and my husband and I are going nuts grappling with separation anxiety. One small relief is that we are told she stops crying after 5 minutes...Friday finally, she waves bye to her dad as her teacher greets her at the school gate. Big sigh of relief...<br />
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She's more into solid foods now, and is eager to eat on her own. I'm surprised ah how deflty she manages a spoon with both hands. Hmmm...is Baby J gonna be ambidextrous? She draws with both hands too...<br />
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She loves Mama pretending to cry, so she can console with the words <i>kap tounu</i>. She is starting to speak more full sentences, and her command over Meiteilon is increasing. She remembers her grandparents and often says "<i>Bobok ngong paiye, Bobok ayo naye, pha-ro-pha-ro</i>" (Granma's gone on a flight, Grandma's not well, get well soon)<br />
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<b>Apr 23-30, 2012</b><br />
Baby J is now all of twenty months and enjoying school. She tells her dad to take her to school when he comes back home in the evening. When she sees her dad is not around, she's first say <i>Papa ngong pai-ye </i>(Papa's gone on a flight) and when I tell her that her Dad's gone for a walk, she'd say, <i>Waaking chat-se </i>(Let's go for a walk). She's also getting a kick out of seeing Mama freak out when she's about to play with the trash-bin. She goes to the trash-bin, calls out Mama and pretends to touch it, all with an impish smile. And when Mama takes her out to the other room, she's back in no time, and saying <i>Sowi </i>(Sorry) while bowing Japanese-style. At the playground, she loves the slides and the swings, and while she's on the swing, pointing to a bench nearby, she tells Mama, <i>Mama-sit!</i> On the way home, she points at trees, buses and cars, articulating the words in English-- <i>tee, bus, caa...</i>Oh, she has also acquired a new Hindi word, <i>bhaiyya</i>.<br />
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She also has three plastic glasses of her size--shot glasses that a thoughtful guest had brought along to have Korean <i>soju. </i>Modified usage as a drinking glass for Baby J, it fits neatly into her hand and she loves drinking water out of it over and over again, even holding it with one hand...she also neatly keeps the glass on the table after her drink :) <br />
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<b>May 1-9</b>, <b>2012</b><br />
The first three days of May, Baby J was not too well and had to skip play school. All this while, she'd ask her dad to take her to school. She's drawing more, and asks for her notebook and crayons, and she can count...<i>Maan, too, thiii</i>, <i>fO, fai, sik, sa-bhen</i>...sometimes, she gets to eight...I'm impressed.<br />
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One evening, she spills orange juice on the floor. She says, <i>Oh noo..</i> and then mops the mess clean with her towel which she was playing with. After that, she smiles at me. What do you say to that, but say <i>Very good!</i><br />
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Another day, she's in the bathroom and wants to sit on the bath-stool. But it's wet. Without a word, she picks up the towel which is within her reach, wipes the stool dry with her right hand, and checks with her left that it's dry. She then proceeds to sit on it, only after it's totally dry. I watched with my mouth agape.<br />
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It's evening and Baby J has had dinner. She wants her crayons and notebook to play. Mama watches her fill page after page with her scrawls. After scribbling something that looks like a circle, she says <i>Saamu yekke-ba </i>( I am drawing an elephant, I say). After this, I tell her to draw Mama. She proceeds to scribble something all along the length of the page. After that, I say, draw baby. She scribbles something similar beside the original one, only much smaller in comparison :)<br />
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</div>Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-5418632187331762452011-09-20T00:16:00.000-07:002011-12-07T03:32:13.020-08:00Meitei myths and beliefs about pregnancy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Can any community not have its share of myths and beliefs about the greatest mystery of them all--creating life? Well, I am sure, there's a bunch of these "old wives' tales" regarding pregnancy in every society. Here are some that I found out exists in mine and are still being followed and even propagated to this date! Most of these have been filtered down to me via word-of-mouth and well-meaning advice from female relatives and friends right from the day I was a bride! Enjoy these myths for the laugh-riot factor or for the fact that they are there!<br />
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<b>Determining baby's gender:</b><br />
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As the tale goes, if you want to have a baby girl, try to conceive on the fifth, seventh, ninth, or any odd numbered day after your period starts. And if you want a baby boy, you are supposed to conceive on the sixth, eight, tenth, or even numbered day of your period.<br />
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Another way to see whether you'll have a boy or girl seems to depend on what your age was when you conceived, much like using the Chinese calendar.<br />
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A lady I know has a battery of questions that ranges from which side you tend to lie on while sleeping (a boy if you feel comfortable lying on your right, a girl if it's the left) to which foot you tend to put forward first (right foot--boy, left foot--girl).<br />
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Also, being happy throughout the pregnancy is supposed to guarantee a baby boy! (Umm, wherever did we hear that it's the Y-gene? ) <br />
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<b>Determining baby's looks:</b><br />
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The person you view the most is supposed to influence how your baby will look!<b> </b> By this logic, your baby could very well end up looking like the icecream-vendor you meet every day to satisfy your cravings! LOL!<br />
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<b>Determining baby's complexion:</b><br />
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Eating veggies like eggplant and using coriander as garnish to be strictly avoided if you want a fair-complexioned child.<br />
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<b>Misc. beliefs:</b><br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>It's considered ominous if the expectant parents harm any living creature while the baby's still in the mother's womb.</li>
<li>A strict no-no for parents-to-be to hit nails into the walls of the home--actually, driving a nail (or any sharp instrument resembling a nail) anywhere is out of the question</li>
<li>The expectant mom must cover her head with a piece of clothing while stepping out of the house post-sunset to avoid evil spirits. Also to be followed while she's in the loo or bathing...</li>
<li>The expectant mom must eat all the food she craves for, else it would lead to her having a baby that drools all the time</li>
</ul>
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<br /></div>Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-38194543610811788252011-09-19T00:05:00.000-07:002011-09-19T00:05:24.836-07:00After the hiatus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So here I am again, after a long break...<br />
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Much water has flown under the bridge-- had a lovely baby girl in Aug last year, went back to my home town for nearly 3 months in Oct, got back to Delhi and back to work in Jan 2011. Shifted house in Feb-Mar. Managed without a nanny for my baby up to Mar end, had stay at home guests (family of three) for nearly two months, got thinking about my pending coursework and met my Prof. Plan in place, execution pending. Getting back into the groove slowly... (April 2011)<br />
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Status Now:<br />
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Had to deal with the nanny's leaving the job without notice (to get married)...have a part-time babysitter now--the arrangement seems to be working fine so far, though nothing compares to the previous nanny (sigh)...<br />
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It's September now, and still to execute on the plan on my coursework...<br />
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But let's talk of achievements, however small:<br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Finished translating "Europa-gi Mapao" to English from Meiteilon</li>
<li>Flew back to Delhi alone with the baby from Imphal</li>
<li>Managed without help for the baby for a couple of weeks </li>
<li>Mustered up enough courage to shop alone, leaving the baby with my sister--Thank God for sisters :)</li>
<li>Went to visit a friend who lives at the other end of the city, with the baby on the Delhi metro, then took a cycle rickshaw ride...it was drizzling but we enjoyed it!!! :)</li>
</ul>
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Thankful for everything :)<br />
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PS: meant to post this in April, but as you can see...so much has happened</div>
Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-24412314229063649152011-09-18T23:15:00.000-07:002017-02-28T02:49:17.981-08:00Note to Granpa...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear Pupu,<br />
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I know you left this reality for another, but recently I saw you in my dreams. I was introducing you to the member of a royal family from Rajasthan who'd come to visit an ordinary Meitei household...the lady in question also happens to be deceased...<br />
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I wonder where this is coming from, but I guess I miss you a lot...<br />
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I cherish the time you sat me on your lap to teach me how to count 1, 2, 3...and the Hindi numbers too...<br />
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How your face would light up every time with pride as we showed you our progress reports--every small success that we achieved was your greatest moment of pride and joy! How you'd brag to your peers that your grandchildren were the best --I'm sure every grandparent feels that way for their grand-kids :)<br />
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And I remember your words, "You'll miss me when I am gone..." I miss you Pupu, I wish you were here.<br />
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Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-53684106129137510032010-07-14T23:10:00.000-07:002010-07-14T23:32:23.308-07:00Cafe TalesThis morning, feeling quite blue and in serious need for a pick-me-up, I decided to try the breakfast menu at the Barista cafe on the ground floor of my office complex. It turned out to be surprisingly pleasant, considering that this was the first time I had had breakfast alone at a cafe. Maybe it was the ambience that gave me the calm I needed, the time I needed to collect my thoughts, or maybe it was the delicious food, but I felt great and ready to take on the day and the challenges it may present. Mental note: must do this more often.<br />
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On another note, it made me think of the cafes and restaurants that I have frequented in the cities that I lived in or visited.<br />
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I used to stay in the university hostels of the University of Delhi, located in north Delhi. Kamla Nagar was an area my friends and I used to frequent. It had its share of inexpensive restaurants specializing in Chinese and Tibetan food, and when the Barista and the Cafe Coffee Day outlets opened, we were a happy lot, spoilt for choice when it came to eating out. Majnu ka Tilla, located near the Yamuna, was another place you could go to if you wanted to taste authentic Tibetan food. In south Delhi, my favorites are Dilli Haat (for its myriad offerings of ethnic cuisine from all over India), South Extension Barista, and New Friend's Colony Community Center for its Shawarma, momos and of course, its cafes.<br />
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In Hyderabad, sadly, I didn't explore much of its eateries, but my favorite remains that rooftop restaurant--Koyla on Road Number 1. And my undergrad days in Shillong was a gastronomical delight! Almost every Sunday, I'd lunch at the restaurant in Hotel Broadway and feast on palak paneer (I still think they make the best I have ever tasted!) and chili chicken. There also used to be a chain of restaurants serving authentic Chinese food located all over Shillong-- I think it was called Abba, which had the best momos and fried rice and noodles. Nice ambience too. Then there was Palace, right bang in the middle of Police Bazaar, which served the best samosas and dosas in Shillong. And need I mention the traditional "jadoh" stalls run by locals that dotted every nook and corner of the city? A jadoh stall is a place people go to for tea, but mostly for lunch, and it would have an inexpensive but delicious menu that consists of rice prepared in the traditional Khasi way (more on this later) with traditional chicken and pork dishes and fried seasonal vegetables and lentils. This was a place where people, even strangers, bonded over food and enjoyed the easy camaraderie. I should also mention the Chinese restaurant that's run by my friend Chin-Hai (who's also a biker) in Dhanketi. It used to be called Touches (unless he's rechristened it) and served the best Foo Yong in town! Ahh Shillong, it's a foodie's paradise, with its restaurants and cafes, and I miss it so much.<br />
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And my hometown, Imphal...it used to have some nice restaurants back in the nineties. As teens, my friends and I used to wait for holidays or weekends to snack at the Lake View near the Kangla Paat (a moat that surrounds Kangla). It used to serve delicious Chinese food and had a nice view of the Kangla Paat. Sadly, the restaurant has long been closed. A restaurant that has seen the seventies and still serves nice food is Airlines (I wonder why they named it that way). It's located in the heart of Imphal on Mahatma Gandhi Avenue, right opposite my alma mater. After school, we used to go and get strawberry ice-cream from there. It seems my parents used to date there and my mom till date swears by the cutlets they serve there! I haven't been there in a long, long time. My husband says the food is still great (he went there last November to meet his buddies), and the impression I get of the place is that it's become a hang out for men, almost like a male-only watering hole, though when I was a school kid, families and youngsters would go and enjoy a nice cup of coffee there. Another restaurant I still like is Naoba's on RIMS Road, which is frequented by office goers and RIMS hospital staff and students. You can have a decent lunch and hang out with buddies there. <br />
Now, the reason I mention that is that Imphal doesn't have a great eating-out culture which is really sad. Apart from the places mentioned here, there is hardly any decent place to go relax over a nice cup of coffee. Some other exceptions are the Host and the Hotel Nirmala restaurants. Sure, you can see myriad establishments with the tag "restaurant" or "cafe" in their names dotting the city. However, the horror that greets you on entering these restaurants just isn't worth it. For one, these are usually dimly lit places frequented by drug addicts and couples who want some privacy and is NOT a place to have coffee or snacks with your friends or family. Forget about lunch or dinner at these places! These places have given a bad name to the terms 'restaurant' and 'cafe' and so if you inadvertently mention that you'd like to go to a cafe, people would stare at you. If you have friends from outside the state visiting you, you CANNOT think of taking them to try out these restaurants/cafes. Now, there are rice-hotels and tea stalls, where you can go and have tea and some snacks, but these are the poor cousins of the Baristas and the Cafe Coffee Days of the world. Visit these stalls if you are in for an adventure and like to give/get a taste of the local life. The plus point of these rice hotels and tea stalls is that you can taste authentic Meitei cuisine like "tharoi thongba" (escargot curry) and "tharoi angouba" (fried escargot), paaknum (a salty steamed snack made of gram flour and vegetables tempered with fermented fish) and pakoras and kanghou (fried vegetables) and ooti (a traditional curry made with peas). I long for the time when the cafes of Imphal would clean up their act and become family hangouts and serve ethnic cuisine too.Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-27927030879059567422010-06-01T02:11:00.000-07:002010-06-01T02:11:48.212-07:00Homesick 3What is it about being pregnant and being away from your parents and in-laws and extended family that makes you homesick?<br />
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There are a lot of plusses when it comes to living an "independent" life with just your husband in a land far away from home. But this isn't about the benefits of such a lifestyle. It is more about how you begin to appreciate family because you are so far away from them. Family, after all, is your bedrock, your support system. As they say, many hands make light work, and definitely more fun. Getting the dishes done by your maid isn't as enriching or as satisfying as doing the same task with your sister/mom/sisters-in-law with a dose of family-jokes and anecdotes sprinkled in between. Mundane housework remains mundane when you are the one doing it with a husband glued to the idiot box or the phone for company! Hah! Now that's when I start missing the rest of the family.<br />
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The other day, I was dicing potatoes for stir-fry when I remembered how my grandmother used to do it every morning and I remembered her instructions crystal clear as though she were right in front of me. And of course, mom used to do it differently. All in a flash, memories of the stories they had to tell about when they were young brides, when they were pregnant would come flooding. The stories had prepped me to some extent, but I was on my own. Scary...and that's a different level of homesickness altogether. When you know your elder female kin cannot be with you then and there because they are at different places, different planes of existence...<br />
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Some days get tiring and you just want to take it easy and leave making dinner to the husband. But predictably, like my mom used to fret, I would invariably worry that he'd not make dinner the way I do. Illogical totally, I know...I mean there could be a dozen ways to skin a potato and your way isn't the only way of doing things right, but that thought comes only as an after-thought. Sometimes, it's such an effort even to relax! Then I start missing the rest of the family again.<br />
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Of course, there are those days when business calls late and your husband's home barely in time for dinner. The TV's on for some background noise, the mobile phone is put to work--connecting you to friends and family while your tasks are getting done, you try reading or browsing or social networking to fill in the time, and then you flop down on the couch and realize what an effort it is to get up even for a drink of water! You waddle all over the apartment, because that's the only way to keep your balance as your weight and your belly-girth increases. The bell rings and with your limited mobility, you waddle to open the door again, taking a long breath (you are so out of breath all the time!)! Hurrah! The husband's home! I wish my mother in law was around--at least, she'd answer the doorbell and chat with me before he arrives. Boredom and homesickness all rolled into one...and I live to miss home, yet again...Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-2534701740313369762010-05-05T04:18:00.000-07:002010-05-05T04:23:55.989-07:00Ailing ManipurMy Manipur has many ills...and I despair at its plight. You may say, every place has its own share of ills, but I think Manipur has far more than is ever high-lighted to the world.<br />
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For one, it is a strife torn state. Everyone knows that the denizens of the state are the ones who suffer silently amid the innumerable strikes, bandhs, curfews, economic blockades and bomb blasts. There are those nameless women known only as "Meira Paibi" who try to bring some semblance of order to the chaotic state of affairs and then there are better known activists like Sharmila...Amid the hullabaloo over the Armed Forces Special Powers Act, there are your usual share of thefts, robberies, kidnappings, and natural disasters. Recently, the imagination of the people of Manipur seem to be captured by Muivah's impending visit to his hometown of Ukhrul. So many protests <a href="http://e-pao.net/GP.asp?src=13..050510.may10">for </a>and <a href="http://e-pao.net/GP.asp?src=6..050510.may10">against</a> his visit and so much public property <a href="http://e-pao.net/GP.asp?src=10..050510.may10">destroyed</a>. And to what end? No satisfactory or simple answers there.<br />
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And then there are those "relatively mundane" concerns like the power problem that ails the state. Even in the capital of the state, frequent power cuts are the norm and there is a scheduled load-shedding every alternate day. Many have analysed why the state suffers thus, but still there is no viable solution. Life goes on in the meantime with the help of generators, inverters, rechargeable LED lamps, candles and the traditional "podon" and "thaomei" fuelled by kerosene. Some people have even adopted the practice of having dinner before sunset so that they can sleep through the power-less nights. Such is the power of adaptability and flexibility of the average Manipuri. Solar power has been harnessed to a minor degree but not to a sustainable level. No one is bothered about demanding something like clean fuel from the government or asking for subsidies for that when all the world is hassled about carbon credits and carbon footprints. There are just too many things occupying the mind, like the simple act of worrying about survival. You see, you never know when a bandh or economic blockade is gonna happen. You are too busy worrying whether your loved ones will be home safe every sunset or be the prey to a stray bombing incident, shootouts or encounters...<br />
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Potable water!!! Well, it's a dream. Even after years of independence, many localities and homes do not get access to tap water. You can forget about running water inside homes. This has of course kept the tradition of fetching water from the community pond each evening alive. But that's besides the point. Suffice to say that civilization's common fruits haven't reached Manipur. <br />
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And the education system--I don't know where to start or where to end. Post independence, my father's generation went to noted government schools like Johnstone, CC, Ram Lal Paul, Tamphasana Girls. These schools had fine faculty members and facilities that a good school of those days had to have. At present, if you happen visit these schools, you can still find fine faculty members there, but the buildings are like ruins and the facilities seem straight out of the forties. The amenities seem to have been frozen in a time warp. I don't have enough context to talk about the state of affairs in privately owned schools. However, I have an inkling that while the rest of the country uses state-of-art technology in their educational institutions, the same cannot be said for those in Manipur. It's actually a wonder that good students still come from the state. It must be quite a struggle. I am told that many people send their kids to private tutors as schools do not cover the syllabi. Of course, people must be aware that last year, schools in Manipur did not operate for months on end in the stand-off between the government and some activists. In this state of affairs, quality education can only be expected to take a back seat. Sigh. It's a vicious circle.<br />
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The environment! Pollution hasn't spared Manipur. Age old traditions of Manipuri youth cleaning the community on weekends have disappeared. People are dumping their wastes on the streets and public places have become garbage dumps. Civil works like a purported sewage system installation have added to the mess as the project has been left midway. To add to the woes of the people, come some rains and the roads become a muddy swamp. No one cares, no one has time to fix these ills. After all, you are only worried about survival. Like I said before, all you care about is whether everyone is home safe and sound...and that no dear one has fallen victim to a stray bullet...Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-8963209914293251572010-04-18T04:33:00.000-07:002010-04-18T10:00:14.550-07:00A farmer who breaks eggs?I enjoy breaking eggs and farming. What kind of farmer breaks eggs, you may ask. Wouldn't they be more concerned with selling the eggs instead? Even though this may seem contradictory in the real world, it's quite possible to do both in the virtual world. You see, like many people on social networking sites, I play some games online. So I have a virtual farm courtesy Farmville and break eggs on Eggbreaker--both hosted on Facebook. Some scoff at how "mindless" and how futile these pursuits are, but I don't really care as long as I get my entertainment in this harmless way. To each his own, I say.<br />
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You see, some people like watching movies, some like to read, some like to vegetate in front of their TV sets, some download music/movies from the net, some people just go on long drives, some watch traffic, and some like to hang out in the mall, some like to drink--alone or with buddies, some like to run, some like yoga. It's their way of having fun. And as long as it does not harm anyone and gives the person a decent amount of enjoyment and a means to de-stress, what's the big deal? As for the so-called mindlessness behind this, how mind-bending is watching a movie or television soaps? And who says entertainment has to be mind boggling to be "decent"?<br />
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And for a person like me who doesn't have a real farm, the satisfaction of seeing my virtual plants grow to fruition is really worth it. After all, it brings a smile even after a tough day. And as for breaking eggs on Eggbreaker, it brings out the inner child in me. I break virtual eggs and wonder what will be inside. It's almost like unwrapping gifts and being surprised every time. And the prizes I get from the eggs don't take up extra space or clutter my home...after all, they are neatly arranged on my virtual shelf in my virtual trophy room.<br />
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If you have pursuits that you enjoy but people think are mindless, drop in a line. Would love to hear about it. As for me, I think I am gonna break some eggs now and check on my farm. After that, I will have some tea and join my husband and vegetate in front of the TV. :)<br />
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</div>Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-28757905727780329092010-04-09T18:53:00.000-07:002010-04-09T18:53:54.557-07:00Homesick AgainMy Dad was in town this week for his checkup. After much cajoling and pleading, he finally agreed to stay with me and my husband. If he had his way, he would have stayed with my siblings as he, like all Meitei elders, thinks that a married daughter's home is good only for a visit for tea. Needless to say, I am overjoyed and thankful hat he did stay with us and that joy was compounded by my brother and sister's staying with us during Dad's visit.<br />
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Like all good things though, his trip here too ended-- this morning. We dropped him off at the airport to catch an early morning flight home. And I am homesick again.<br />
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As I sit on the balcony where Dad used to read the morning paper during his stay, I think of the days as a young girl when making breakfast for the family seemed like a chore. His visit gave me the opportunity to make up a little for that. Now that I am married and hardly ever get to see him and Mama, I long for days when a simple task like making breakfast for them seems like the opportunity of a lifetime, when a simple walk in the neighboring park is a time to be cherished.<br />
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I miss you Dad, and I miss home...I miss the times as a kid when you used to take me with you to fetch the Sunday paper and ended up buying comic books for me, the rare days when I could go back home with you after school, and the times you had meetings in Shillong around the time my vacation would start and I could travel home with you. I remember the time I ran home to go out with you and Mama. It was Cheiraoba and you were going to visit my maternal grandparents and I was too late...I was inconsolable and refused to accompany Mafa who offered to take me with her. I must have been two or three then. Sigh. More memories come flooding and I feel like crying.<br />
<br />
Yeah, I am homesick, yet again.Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-62547101303795987752010-04-01T04:55:00.000-07:002010-04-01T04:55:01.106-07:00Adventure @ Age 3+I was three already and in kindergarten-- my first year at school. I felt pretty serious about going to school and meeting different folks unlike my younger brother who hadn't yet gotten the chance yet. I had it going well with my uncles and aunts taking turns to drop me off to school on their bicycles or scooters, or better still, getting a chance to go with my Dad on his parrot green Lambretta. You see, Dad's office at the local State Bank of India branch was just next door to school. At noon, school would get over and I would tramp out like the other kids and look for a familiar face in the crowd of parents and guardians come to fetch their wards.<br />
<br />
As it went, my grandparents or my aunts usually came by to take me home. With my aunts, the trip always always led us through the busy Thangal Bazaar. As expected, they loved the opportunity to window-shop on the pretext of fetching the niece from school. My grandparents preferred the quieter route which took us past the MG Avenue and over the small bridge to Soram Leirak. We'd then reach the community pond 'Pukhri Achouba' and then after that, it was just a matter of crossing the erstwhile RMC Road (now RIIMS Road) to reach home. I loved it more when my grandparents fetched me as I loved the leisurely walk and the fact that they'd buy me snacks on the way home. With my aunts, it was a short trip home by cycle rickshaw--no fun, no snacks--all cut and dry.<br />
<br />
Now, I had a friend named AS who was the most independent kid I had ever known. She couldn't have been much older than me, but she used to come to school on her own and go back home, again on her own. I retrospect, I guess it could be because both her parents were working and there was no one else to drop her to school. But the idea of going to school on your own kinda appealed to my 3 year old mind to the point of obsession. What added fuel to the fire was AS's jibe at my being such a kid and being so dependent on grown ups. That was the melting point. I decided that I too could go home alone and to prove that, I was on the lookout for the day when no-one would come to pick me up.<br />
<br />
The awaited day arrived soon enough. A few days later, I was overjoyed to see that no one from my family had showed up to take me home. I quickly ran to where AS was standing and told her that I'd go with her unescorted by grownups. I remember saying, "AS, quick, let's go home. No one has showed up today to take me home." We then wasted no further time and quickly made our way home. We took the route that my grandparents favoured and soon enough, it was time for me to cross RMC Road. AS looked one way while I looked the other and between the two of us, we estimated the time that was safe for me to cross the road. "Run!" she shouted. And I ran, half scared, half excited-- scared as I was crossing the road alone for the first time, and excited that I was now on my turf, safe and sound. I waved her goodbye and went home straight. Happily I rushed to the kitchen, where my grandmother sat having her lunch. She was surprised to see me home without any sign of my aunts. Before she could ask me how I reached home alone, I announced to her that I was now quite capable of going to school and coming back alone. As she listened horrified, I narrated to her my adventure of coming home alone. She scolded me, as expected.<br />
<br />
Back at school, my aunts were panicking as I was nowhere to be found. They waited till the last of the children were picked up and then went to Dad's office. They were terrified of getting a scolding as they had arrived five minutes late to pick me up (you see, their window-shopping had extended much beyond the usual time). They frantically searched for me and my Dad notified the police. Those days, the only telephone in the neighborhood was with a neighbor who stayed three houses away from us. My grandmother managed to go there and somehow managed to give my Dad the information that I was back home. Safe. After an adventure of coming back from school alone. I can only imagine the mixture of emotions that they must have experienced. The adventure ended for me with a scoldings from all my uncles and aunts, grandparents, and my Dad. Still, it was worth the adrenaline rush and the sense of independence.Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-35854655426575264932009-12-16T21:58:00.000-08:002009-12-16T22:00:44.651-08:00Being HomesickI have stayed away from my folks for more than 14 years now, ever since I stepped out of my hometown for further studies. I remember being homesick twice during my student days.<br />
<br />
The first time, it was my first month in the college hostel and I had a hard time coping with hostel life (to be more precise, the utter lack of amenities there) which was nothing short of a military camp! After spending a week with a roomie who was sooo much the silent type, I was soon bawling away. That night, I missed home so much, missed my parents, my grandparents, and my easy schooldays with friends back from kindergarten. Sigh.<br />
<br />
The second time, it was during the hectic DU admission time in the summer of 1999. I had some documents which needed attestation and little did I know that some doctors actually attested your documents for a <i>paltry</i> sum of 15.00 INR per copy. With the last date being the next day, I went from office to office trying to get my docs attested with no luck. So much for ignorance! I was tired and didn't know what to do. Friendless in a strange city, I couldn't help missing home and how Dad used to take care of such mundane stuff. Of course, after a lot of trials, I did get my docs attested by a lady schoolteacher who was obviously moved by my plight. God bless her.<br />
<br />
And now, I feel homesick again. Homesick for the days when Mom and Dad would hover around whenever I was unwell, trying to cheer me up with my favorite books and magazines. Married life brings you a new set of people who fuss after you: my Mom-in-law gets up in the middle of the night to give me a hot water bottle and my sisters-in-law fuss after me and force me to rest...but I still miss my childhood days and I miss home...sigh...Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-82466687142113509502009-12-03T20:55:00.000-08:002009-12-03T20:55:42.088-08:00Back to Delhi!Back to Delhi and back at work! The first day at work post-wedding had me wearing a phanek and then it was back to my staple of jeans (couldn't have kept up the phanek-wearing for long). Phew!<br />
<br />
Life hasn't changed much in Delhi, except that my work commute has been reduced by an hour! Thank God! I now have all the time in the world to have breakfast with hubby before work. It's another matter that I chose to sleep an extra wink or two instead! We'll get to having breakfast together soon. Maybe next week...Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-38865699800098935842009-09-29T23:50:00.000-07:002009-09-29T23:55:07.764-07:00To honk or not to...Yesterday, on the way back home from work, I saw a cab with a sticker that read, "Do not honk." this wouldn't have warranted comment had I been living elsewhere in the world. You see, "don't honk" stickers at the rear of automobiles are as rare as they come in India. Instead, it is quite commonplace to see labels like 'Horn Please" or "Blow Horn" behind buses and trucks. As a kid growing up in India, I used to think it's quite normal to ask people driving behind you to honk, so you know they are coming behind you. In fact, my first driving lessons included tips like honk before turning a corner, when you come up next to another vehicle, at pedestrians trying to cross the road, and so on. It all made sense then. You had to <i>had to </i>announce to the world that you are coming. Watch out! Sigh.<br /><br />I realized that it's likely that this common traffic practice is likely to be unique, if not strange, when someone from the US remarked about it. He found it very surprising because it's considered rude to honk elsewhere in the world. More surprise when the logic behind "please honk" labels were explained to him. Come to think of it, it's quite annoying to hear blaring horns. <i>But almost everybody honks in India!!! </i>You just need to be stuck in a traffic jam to see this (and endure the pain of hearing the noise) for yourself. Another place to encounter this is at a traffic signal. No matter that the light is still red, the motorist behind you has to honk. And then everybody starts honking on cue. Is this symptomatic of a culture that shouts for attention, a me-first culture? Possibly...or maybe it is a live example of the saying "when in Rome..."<br /><br />Well, whatever be, I loved the "Do not honk" poster. It is a symbol of changing mindsets, of being more conscious of our environment and our fellow beings, and of being more polite. As some wise person said, "I do not shout at others with my automobile horn." I am gonna get a similar poster. What about you?Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-39122594576698422382009-09-22T20:58:00.001-07:002009-09-22T21:01:06.658-07:00Rain rain come again...<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So much has been written about the monsoons and how it wreaked havoc in the capital. We read stories of commuters caught in traffic snarls and of buses submerged in a flooded underpass. I braved the traffic and the rain too--what was a 10 minute commute turned out to be a ninety minute drive, and the usually one hour drive to office stretched to four hours...what a pain! But what bliss too--the hot and clammy weather had gone and we had cool rain laden breezes and winds. You could enjoy it if you were at home with a cup of hot tea and a plate of pakoras...or better still, if you could sit by the window and look at the raindrops. How pleasant it was to go for a stroll in the neighborhood park or just go up on the terrace to enjoy the weather. Some people danced in the rain. Sigh.<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">It's hot and humid in Delhi again. The launrdry gets bone dry in a jiffy and the traffic moves smoothly unless disrupted by accidents, a procession, or a vehicle breakdown...but the weather is all clammy.<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Rain rain come again...<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Go away another day<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Please take away the pain<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And the heat and we'll pay<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">the price<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Of being stuck in traffic jams<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Just to be able to dance again<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">in the rain...<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Rain, rain come again.<br /></div>Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-71494058322916042222009-07-09T22:35:00.000-07:002009-07-09T22:47:22.031-07:00A greeting ritualI walk in the corridor, meet a colleague from the other end of the bay, and we greet each other. Sample conversation:<br /><br />Colleague: Hey! What's up?<br />Me: XYZ project/ Meeting with ABC / Running to Building A for a meeting in 5 min!<br /><br />Basically, fill in whatever you are preoccupied with then. If you are working on *classified* or *confidential* stuff, say something like "Nothing much. You?" And you know what to expect from the other guy! If you don't wanna say anything or have little time, keep on walking with a rejoinder, "Hey there! What's up with you?" Dont be surprised when the other person says "Nothing much!" or something mundane.<br /><br />This kinda greeting ritual happens near the water cooler or in the elevator too...well, anywhere... The other day, a colleague and I were in the vicinity; so we decided to go for the ritual. She opened with the expected, "Hey there, what's up?" I said, "Lotsa things!" Smile. We had just added a new dimension to the ritual, and it was no more just another meaningless ritual, but a conversation starter.<br /><br />:)Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-9734658517356355052009-06-11T07:11:00.000-07:002009-06-11T07:13:54.014-07:00Ghost!?!Can hostels and ghost stories ever be separated?<br /><br />I was staying all alone in a 2nd floor flat in north Delhi. The landlord's family stayed on the first floor, while some more tenants stayed on the ground floor. It was summer. 1999. Being a poor student, I couldn't yet afford a mobile phone with its exorbitant call-rates. The landlord and his family were going to the hills for a week. They had an interesting proposition. I could stay in their living room while they were away--that way, I could attend to my dad's calls. I didn't mind sleeping on the sofa and watching TV. So it was fixed.<br /><br />Every night, I'd finish my dinner by 8:30 pm, lock my flat up, and park inside the landlord's living room before retiring at 10:00. I'd peep downstairs to check if the other tenants were in or had gone to work. If they were in, I'd feel better that there were other humans in the house and sleep a good night's sleep. On the nights they weren't in, I'd pray more and buck up for a night all alone in the house.<br /><br />It must have been the fourth or the fifth night. It was a moonlit night. 10:00 pm. I checked all doors and windows were bolted, the heavy iron gate closed, and the tenants were out. Of course, I didn't have to worry about the terrace door. It was an iron door bolted from the inside and the house was virtually impregnable once you bolt the gate and the terrace door. I switched off the lights, lay down on the sofa, closed my eyes, prayed, and then opened them again. My hair stood on end at what I saw. A young man was walking down the stairs from the 2nd floor and he looked straight ahead and walked silently down. He looked like a north-easterner. He was bespectacled and wore a T-shirt that could have been blue or gray. The glass window at my foot could easily be broken into if he wished! <i>Who was he? How did he get up there? Why didn't he make any noise? Why was he walking like a zombie? Had he seen me? </i>I froze and lay immobile for minutes that seemed like ages. I was so scared! After a while, I mustered up enough courage to peep downstairs. As expected, he was nowhere to be seen. Strangely, the other tenants were back just then. <i>Why didn't I hear the gate opening? It usually made such a loud noise. Why didn't the other tenants find anything strange? Who did I see--man or ghost? </i>I will never know. But either ways, it was one of the scariest moments of my life. I can only thank God that the lights were switched off and he didn't seem to have noticed me. The next morning, I went up to my room and found my flat was untouched. I checked the terrace too. It was still locked. All I know is, I had a narrow escape and I am really thankful.Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-34010624555214044732009-04-14T22:44:00.000-07:002009-04-14T22:44:07.283-07:00Doppelganger?One day, I was invited by one of my friends to her room. This was when I was a grad student in Lady Keane College, Shillong, and putting up in the hostel.<br />
<br />
I obliged. And then A.A. sat me down, smiling mysteriously all the while. Without a word, she hands me a photograph, face down. I turn it over. Shock. What am I doing in that picture? Who were all these other folks there? And where and when did I buy such clothes? Was I suffering from a split-personality syndrome?<br />
<br />
"Where did you take this picture?"<br />
<br />
"Nagaland."<br />
<br />
"But I have never been there!"<br />
<br />
"I know. That's my cousin."<br />
<br />
OMG. The resemblance was too striking! Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined looking at someone's face and wondering whether I was looking at my reflection. And here was I.<br />
<br />
Couldn't help smiling, wondering, "How?"<br />
<br />
Freaked out, but couldn't help wondering at the coincidence. A.A. tells me, "You both are very alike. You look similar, talk in the same style, and buy similar clothes." Well, since we both--my doppelganger(?) and I-- were born in different geographies and speak different languages, I wondered how similar we could be. But I tell you, the similarity in physical appearance--that was too much.<br />
<br />
I don't know whether doppelganger is the right word. But it will have to do for now. I was impressed. I still am. Nature works in mysterious ways....Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-1957353818220482892009-04-03T07:42:00.000-07:002009-04-04T01:24:47.822-07:00Dhol Dholak Cholom (Meitei Drummers)<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxRuA9fF3kglYaJSlz0qFXCKlH2BN3gTMVKm0wD81KkbcstzgEROpDMun2NWsvr5xgF184GfMerZ0ylUaAB' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-67894501310565614772009-03-28T03:20:00.001-07:002009-04-04T01:03:32.070-07:00United We Stand<span style="font-style: italic;">United we stand.</span><br /><br />The verity of the statement is timeless. It has been the mantra behind India's independence and the credo of many organizations. It has been the guiding principle of many a family and many groups of friends who have stuck together through thick and thin. It is also something that people with common goals (but not necessarily of similar outlook) have used from time to time. I stress on the word <i>used</i>. This is when the statement becomes a mockery and is subsequently reduced to mutual back scratching for mutual benefit. You might wonder what's wrong with that. Aren't we all inter-dependent beings, living in society as symbiotic creatures bonded to each other? Sigh. How or where can I even begin to explain? Look around. You can find examples everywhere, in every aspect of life.<br /><br />Experts who study group dynamics have a term called cliques. It's supposed to be a high school phenomenon, but some of these extend into adult life as well. Hindi TV soaps gave examples of sisters in law ganging up against the newly wed <i>bahu</i>. It's a group with restricted entry. And they have targets. And they are mean. (Not that cliques are confined to soap operas or chick lit novels).<br /><br />So...what's the big deal?<br /><br />A lot actually. Cliques are damaging--they erode self confidences, they create silos and unhealthy competition, and they stop growth and independent thinking. Suddenly, the group is making all the decisions: who to talk to and how, who to admit into the group, and how to spend your time.<br /><br />Probably unexplored is an aspect that's scary, to say the least: the clique can potentially get away with bad decisions and tardy work if it's an influential group in an organization. <span style="font-style: italic;">Birds of the same feather flock together</span>. Another saying whose truth rings out far and wide, and has been reduced to a cliché. Indeed, sometimes, this becomes the motto of members of a clique whose sole aim is to get ahead and gain influence. That's when the seemingly childish phenomenon rears its ugly head in diverse forms elsewhere, to the detriment of society.<br /><br />Hopefully, each one of us will examine whether we are becoming part of a clique, whether a clique is exerting its influence near us, and whether there are victims and collateral damage. Hopefully, we are sensitized to the dangers involved and take appropriate steps.Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-87293188004115875652009-03-27T03:08:00.000-07:002009-03-27T03:30:51.982-07:00Life's a sine wave...<div style="text-align: center;">Life is a sine wave--<br />You ride high<br />On the crest sometimes.<br />On some days,<br />You hang out<br />In the valleys...<br /><br />Wherever you may be,<br />Don't forget:<br />Better days will come.<br />Hang in there<br />For when the storm is past<br />The sun will shine bright again<br />And flowers will bloom<br />And bring you joy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Tv_DuiNEzS75Oors2Ax439XsEhkMLYMoFGxLD_3YU1o7BDSnpaEl_y0mV76FJf7eZ9_udNSTGWBwGwwCiRuei094BeXGmgi6ijw19owzFc7oFGzMV7Ncmi9hjsXDQpK8MArWy02h_oc/s1600-h/DSC05600.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Tv_DuiNEzS75Oors2Ax439XsEhkMLYMoFGxLD_3YU1o7BDSnpaEl_y0mV76FJf7eZ9_udNSTGWBwGwwCiRuei094BeXGmgi6ijw19owzFc7oFGzMV7Ncmi9hjsXDQpK8MArWy02h_oc/s200/DSC05600.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317808902768825810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div>Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-82414393074201830092009-03-18T07:50:00.000-07:002009-03-18T07:53:47.582-07:00Himalayas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9okp4NHj8_42efK-IDq6ZE7KgNboqqkK0YvI0IKgpF94mHa3uxS0h6f_ShUxCKEh_mCmbZtqeDQ0FOLLCSueqqRgjXbw_248RQsOpPOu9Q5EqSTncmwwuxdYvhVIl5Vh7hOQynflfTjQ/s1600-h/DSC05451.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9okp4NHj8_42efK-IDq6ZE7KgNboqqkK0YvI0IKgpF94mHa3uxS0h6f_ShUxCKEh_mCmbZtqeDQ0FOLLCSueqqRgjXbw_248RQsOpPOu9Q5EqSTncmwwuxdYvhVIl5Vh7hOQynflfTjQ/s200/DSC05451.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314540540819964482" border="0" /></a><br />Ain't it lovely? Took it from a recent Delhi to Imphal flight. It was amazing...Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-11168722980594905562009-03-02T02:42:00.000-08:002009-03-02T02:42:23.555-08:00What I didn't like as a kid... and still don'tI have been a pretty opinionated kid as far back as I can remember, and there are quite a few things I didn't like at all. My pet peeves, as I would call them, are listed here in random order.<br />
<ul><li>I didn't like adults who talked down on you, simply because you are a kid. A patronising tone that says "I am older, have seen the stars and the sun before you; therefore, I know better"</li>
<li>Adults who say "Chhooo cute" and pinch your cheeks hard (don't they know that kids can feel pain?)<br />
</li>
<li>Adults who'd call you into the living room to have you recite nursery rhymes in front of their friends</li>
<li>Having to take afternoon naps just because you are a kid and because it's supposed to be good for you<br />
</li>
<li>Having to say namaste to those horrid unclejis and auntyjis who talk down on you anyway</li>
<li>Having to tolerate stupid comments like, "You are actually my kid, and you are going to stay in my family from today." Well, I guess the adults get a kick out of seeing the look of alarm on a kid's face at this. But what a horrid thing to say! Ugh!<br />
</li>
</ul>Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-44431110388274474102009-02-13T06:51:00.000-08:002009-02-13T07:06:30.583-08:00Analysis ParalysisI was reading <a href="http://zenhabits.net/2009/02/task-ninja-form-the-action-habit/">a post </a>on <a href="http://www.zenhabits.net/">zenhabits.net</a>, a blog I follow when I chanced on the term "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Analysis_paralysis">analysis paralysis</a>" and I liked it. It really describes my state appropriately these days...<br />
<br />
Am stuck in analysis paralysis<br />
With no idea where to begin<br />
Action is but a dream<br />
Not forgotten, but surreal<br />
Pies for every finger--<br />
Which one should I eat first?<br />
Which one to discard?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Start small</span> they say--<br />
Don't care much for the outcome...<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">"करम करो...करम फल की इच्छा नहीं"</span><br />
हे भगवान....what do I do now?Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-18210394884904489102009-01-05T22:53:00.000-08:002009-01-06T06:10:31.704-08:00Holiday PicsBack in Gurgaon after a break in lovely Imphal. Didn't do too much sight-seeing, but visited lots of relatives and met up old classmates. :)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiS2P2I0ycgXa4oocWjKrcoVxOlIKnT3N5CZ7kqaoTHUtRlCzb3q16HZMgROVqSFLMWIh1IccRyn3BYabhIS1_e1HS8r0KyUH2IpJKcgYTnwMw82aRCNGXZjsAKiUtFPsVo4hR89AM_0/s1600-h/DSC04904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiS2P2I0ycgXa4oocWjKrcoVxOlIKnT3N5CZ7kqaoTHUtRlCzb3q16HZMgROVqSFLMWIh1IccRyn3BYabhIS1_e1HS8r0KyUH2IpJKcgYTnwMw82aRCNGXZjsAKiUtFPsVo4hR89AM_0/s200/DSC04904.JPG" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWlfLP9BbWIO3UB_gwbmcEfble-WpsLChpgYmMM1r7TDdqSiuP-tz0-EKfG7Eof-9KEMZVmB8tLLw96deCgnHCrK3jT7hlpN7HtMbTK8mUi1hBFnT8Z3pQ3yz9a9cYNF6aU4mvOVtslM/s1600-h/DSC04835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWlfLP9BbWIO3UB_gwbmcEfble-WpsLChpgYmMM1r7TDdqSiuP-tz0-EKfG7Eof-9KEMZVmB8tLLw96deCgnHCrK3jT7hlpN7HtMbTK8mUi1hBFnT8Z3pQ3yz9a9cYNF6aU4mvOVtslM/s200/DSC04835.JPG" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8lWM2s2_YKV7lY7zA2o8rT-EDyARYKgsGcovenEFXSzSIVaCzVsdalRb8HmufKNVZzx6NbCt7T0zawkKm5V2WkVJ4v1DqYe99u5ycCCRA-5DDDo4EdxKYEDjDJPru44bj1ib-oZWPCo4/s1600-h/DSC04855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8lWM2s2_YKV7lY7zA2o8rT-EDyARYKgsGcovenEFXSzSIVaCzVsdalRb8HmufKNVZzx6NbCt7T0zawkKm5V2WkVJ4v1DqYe99u5ycCCRA-5DDDo4EdxKYEDjDJPru44bj1ib-oZWPCo4/s200/DSC04855.JPG" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cbjFiGeVcqM0c6Vec_uielSquffSSSrm9jghQy3PC6Kxzsu6WzgPbxCghY0B-AB5dY5HtVimDrNZnR8n7HFZW9bXrNBSWH5r4d5Ry89F-0OazsVDQtL7fC8zDDh1QtZN3B5Q6Wx-cKA/s1600-h/DSC04861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cbjFiGeVcqM0c6Vec_uielSquffSSSrm9jghQy3PC6Kxzsu6WzgPbxCghY0B-AB5dY5HtVimDrNZnR8n7HFZW9bXrNBSWH5r4d5Ry89F-0OazsVDQtL7fC8zDDh1QtZN3B5Q6Wx-cKA/s200/DSC04861.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiP6tQ4dS4clQWA_e-wIFCQj1t5_-ucFJFbl4V9zmn3U56rQL1bueLpr00xzwX-4e1hyaty5qDVodO7BDQUgZ0qkTom66Df2HaXfAHIpKBmdALrsi4_MtbEt95PHRge6kjSlepFtsyM94/s1600-h/DSC04881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiP6tQ4dS4clQWA_e-wIFCQj1t5_-ucFJFbl4V9zmn3U56rQL1bueLpr00xzwX-4e1hyaty5qDVodO7BDQUgZ0qkTom66Df2HaXfAHIpKBmdALrsi4_MtbEt95PHRge6kjSlepFtsyM94/s200/DSC04881.JPG" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8-8AGbYGdmI9O6mLUCgtpeBQUB_rET1JuE00lYmdQpgtMMDzCN2SFZrKjf5s7dca_ko9bTNQhIOnon0ZFtIuiohbCeNTJtWKAOW1XTNpt_miInbRLLot07ZsSWIG4bnoa_OpQLV375P4/s1600-h/DSC04744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8-8AGbYGdmI9O6mLUCgtpeBQUB_rET1JuE00lYmdQpgtMMDzCN2SFZrKjf5s7dca_ko9bTNQhIOnon0ZFtIuiohbCeNTJtWKAOW1XTNpt_miInbRLLot07ZsSWIG4bnoa_OpQLV375P4/s200/DSC04744.JPG" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio62xqMSLijouorovI-Fo3lPtEG4dBCLJEdq88vrh6i9QapkWTJFXeaRj9gyqRmtKyHqfjqPa7gqRfHFfyGHjAp4QSJFHbhIeCOneRmBuBlETiuZEtmR3rhlgBkJHCY4PiD12oYex5pU0/s1600-h/DSC04779.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio62xqMSLijouorovI-Fo3lPtEG4dBCLJEdq88vrh6i9QapkWTJFXeaRj9gyqRmtKyHqfjqPa7gqRfHFfyGHjAp4QSJFHbhIeCOneRmBuBlETiuZEtmR3rhlgBkJHCY4PiD12oYex5pU0/s200/DSC04779.JPG" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZFQzvZQtxxCZsUgnkNSxXT2xDMJ2_z9pHdnbktgxa64wB7nJzTcvf6HCgYDP-_7-4ouiccbn7D0bRqikEFBudF0x2QxK6V5jMy1V-Ho04jcohqjJhSZeqBut7TNO_02Cq3OQX9T-car0/s1600-h/DSC04903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZFQzvZQtxxCZsUgnkNSxXT2xDMJ2_z9pHdnbktgxa64wB7nJzTcvf6HCgYDP-_7-4ouiccbn7D0bRqikEFBudF0x2QxK6V5jMy1V-Ho04jcohqjJhSZeqBut7TNO_02Cq3OQX9T-car0/s200/DSC04903.JPG" /></a></div><br />And I attended the wedding of very dear friends...The wedding album is <a href="http://picasaweb.google.co.in/hdthangjam/BasantaraniTanmoyWedding#">here</a>.Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661645866708416812.post-32951789432708076362008-12-12T01:20:00.000-08:002008-12-14T20:35:34.552-08:00Aspirations of a worker antOur regular lunch meeting today had an interesting twist. Lemme share what happened.<br />
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As we looked outside the window, we noticed workers hoisting large machinery atop the skyscraper coming up next door. The equipment looked uncannily like a giant's shoe, and then, next thing we know, the conversation had moved from giants to little people to life cycles of insects like ants. How long do ants live? Why do they work so hard all year round, if they know they are not gonna live to see the next winter? Do they even know? Do they even consider all this as they toil? Someone said, they are wired to perform whatever role they have in the nest--all instinct, not much thoughts put in there. Very true.<br />
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But what if? It would be interesting, if at all, consciousness became a part of worker ant's life, and it suddenly realized that it's working away without putting self-interests into the picture. What then, would the ant want to do? Would it ever aspire to be queen? Would it instead want to be a warrior ant or a drone? Would it spread its thoughts to its fellow workers, much like an enlightened guru or leader do? Would we see revolutions to bring about social change in the ant world? Would the queen ant ever agree to abdicate, or would it heave a sigh of relief at having been decommissioned from bearing armies of offspring? How about the drones? Would they still want to lead the elite life, of being fed and tended to, or would they want to do something more meaningful, like talking about the futility and banality of the bourgeois life? Would they want to be commissioned into the army as a warrior ant or become a worker?<br />
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Read all about <a href="http://www.aliciapatterson.org/APF1904/Foster/Foster.html">an ant's life here</a>...meanwhile, for those of you who like to fantasize, you can watch <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kqGO1c70ak">Antz</a>!Thangjam Hindustanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00805691035332478552noreply@blogger.com3