A 'World' Cup truly

      A piece started back when we were still lodged in the Group of 16. A piece that might have been abandoned like so many others had it not been for the crazy Semi-Final score between Brazil and Germany. That acted as a propeller, not as a subject changer, because it only made me realise just how much I appreciate football, for what it is, what it does.

     Maradona is the first name I ever associated with the FIFA World Cup and somehow I still do. And no one can blame me because 1986 was the first time I ever even heard of the World Cup. My Dad had bought the family’s first TV-a small SONY that needed him or my brother to turn the antenna upstairs to get a clear picture. I don’t really remember how the ‘Greatest Show on Earth’ went down that year except that we were allowed a few late nights on account of the grown-ups watching the match. But Maradona it was, and Spain- probably because of the bright coloured pictures of the previous World Cup in my Grandpa’s magazines.

     Mizoram goes crazy every World Cup. Before the days of the Internet, there were enterprising souls who got the game fixtures well ahead of time and sold them in little booklets. Everyone was eager to have copies, mark winners and predict future fixtures for those of us who didn’t own one or were not bothered enough to keep up. Then came pioneering newspapers and magazines that’d carry such fixtures for subscribers to cut out.

      Even though I grew up among a football-crazy people, love a good match as much as anyone and have been bitten by the bug at crucial points of every World Cup, it has never been a priority. And at no other time has it made such a lasting impact on me as it did as a child in 1986. Names like Baggio, Valderama, Cafu, Gullit etc. still ring bells of familiarity but they are distant, a lot like somebody else’s memories. Stronger in my mind are the ‘Ual Kap’s our Church Youth Fellowship organises every year the World Cup happens because I am so much more a part of it. The World Cup fever has more or less been that for me, a fever.

Fast forward to 2010 and I found myself at World Cup time without the familiar Mizo fever, in a land so foreign it was still difficult to believe I was actually there. And without the familiar ‘community football fever’ to share, the game actually came home to me and I learnt the true value of a ‘World’ cup! It was an amazing experience, catching the matches between meetings, joining friends in their joy and frustrations as they proudly joined in their anthems with the players, wearing reds, oranges, yellows and whites to show our affinities. And I will always remember the finals at a Sports Bar near Princeton, New Jersey. We all did our orange bit for Femke, our Dutch lady but they were playing Spain. This was the Spain that had always been in the World Cup plate in my head. And this year, they had Fernando Torres to boot, my nephew’s namesake and a great player. Even with my orange feather, I went for red. And for the first time since I was introduced to the World cup, Spain won. In the very year I’d been dislocated from my usual fever, my team won!

      In 2010 I had harboured distant dreams of making it to Brazil in 2014, but the four years passed with no concrete plans and I found myself in Europe when Brasil 2014 finally opened!

     Opening Night in Brazil was also closing night at my Conference in Bossey, Switzerland. That meant packing, sitting down with friends, sharing lives and future plans. It was only after a much-loved message that I ran down to the lounge to catch glimpses of an Opening ceremony that was rather disappointing. The first match did not leave me in a great mood either, I thought the hosts underperformed (this was actually written before the shocking Semi-Finals).

      The rest of the Group matches, the few that I could catch, were watched at the Brussels airport, at the UN HQ and a pub in Vienna, a hostel lounge in Geneva and on an Emirates flight a thousand kilometres above ground. This truly made it another ‘World’ Cup for me, an event that brings people together for the love of the game. Back home, it is an event that we look forward to with friends and family, a mini-party with the works for every match is a late night one for India. But when one is travelling, it becomes so much more personal. One has to make an effort to catch the games in between attending meetings, being a tourist and financial management on a budget. When one does get to watch a game, it is usually with a group of strangers who cheer and animatedly chat with you only because of the beautiful game that is football.

    

       The overpowering figure of Maradona has made way for the likes of Messi, technology has overtaken the much-sold fixture booklets of old, those born yesterday won’t even know what it meant to turn antennas with companies vying to give you the best HD experiences and a live game viewing in the sky. With my favourite teams long ousted and only three games to go, this year's seen keepers shine and I am grateful for the World Cup because at the core of a changing world is the game of twenty-two men and a ball, the sharing of passions, the clash of loyalties and the test of skills only a few are blessed with.

TO BE YOUR KNIGHT

      This will be the last time I wield my pen. My eyes are weak, I can barely see. But I sit myself down at the end of my days because I know I can’t leave without ever having said what I have felt everyday for almost half a decade. And I write this in the hope that in a rare lucid moment, it might catch your eye and speak to you in a way I haven’t been able to. 

     The first time I saw you, you were but a kid- probably in High School with dreams of a brighter future. And I was a fresh young graduate all set to join the Assam Civil Services. Remember those nights we sat in your house- Young ‘educated’ men enthralled by your father’s talk of nationalism and a movement that was brewing? Those nights created dreams of a future where our children would study without discrimination, where library books wouldn’t be passed around just so a “tribal” couldn’t get his hands on them. A future where you and I could walk around without being taunted as beggars and fools just because we looked different. As the dream transformed itself into a vision, I found myself picking a green uniform over the life of a civil servant, wielding a gun instead of a pen- without a shred of regret because I believed I had been called to serve my land and my people.

    Imagine my joy when I saw you again two years later at Boys’ ME School at Aizawl, among the volunteers who had come forward to cook for us greenhorns playing at war. The songs we sang, our stolen looks of promise, all fed by the hope of a better life after the guns were silent. Your happy smile is the last thing I remember before the attack, before the chaos that turned our worlds upside down. In the days and nights that followed while we hid in angst waiting for a chance to right a wrong, I was tortured by thoughts of you and wondered if you lived through that horrible day when the sky rained death upon our happy fellowship. I beat myself up for not having taken you along but then reasoned that was not the life I wanted for you. Days and nights in wild hideouts, a fugitive in my own land, fuelled by the need to chase the usurper out, knowing I needed to be a guerilla against the man with bigger guns. The vision by then had become a cause.

       At Ruallung I said a thousand prayers when I saw you. You were still so beautiful and my cause became so much dearer because you were still a part of it. But you were unhappy; my dear, how your eyes had grown dull. And your smile couldn’t reach them, I know you tried. There was never a time for a guerilla to feed the flame of a romance but my heart had no room for doubts. Seeing you was all that mattered, I never even thought to question why you were so sad. My walk home with our supplies was lighter than my journey out with an empty rucksack, only because I had seen you and knew you were alive, waiting for me. It was only at night, in the cruelty of a watch under a moonless sky that my heart bled, that I felt it squeezed till I could breathe no more. Major Pritam Singh. The name replaced every beat of my heart while all I wished for was to hold you in my arms and blow everything else away.

     March 20, 1968. The dreaded man was dead, we had been planning for days and he was finally dead. Taking the spoils after an attack like we always do, I walked right up to his dead body because I wanted to frame in my head the face of the man who had tortured you and whose name had tormented me for so long. It was then that I saw the little notebook in his pocket. It had your name on it, as it had other names, but yours more often than others, and dates against each written name. Even in death, this devil was to haunt me. I traced each night you were forced to be with him, wishing I had known and that I had come to shield you. But a guerilla could not be your knight in shining armour. Forgive me, my love.

       The next I heard, you were at the Civil Hospital in Aizawl. The kindly doctor there had done his best to heal your wounds they said. But those who had inflicted them could not be more indifferent and no one could tend the hurt inside. I was told you were not yourself anymore, that the trauma of the many invasions had done you in. My love, it would have been too much for even the strongest of us. But your life had been spared and this I felt was in answer to my prayers. The day we said our vows you were happy, you were once again the girl I had loved from so many years ago. When you trembled at my every touch I never blamed you. Each day has been worth it just knowing you are now safe and I could watch you sleep in peace. And on those nights you stayed awake, when fear took over and their faces came back to haunt you, I could finally be that knight you needed and my presence calmed you. But I cannot point a gun against ghosts and memories of tragedies that were all too real. Watching you slip further away from me and from a world that had been cruel, all I could do was pray that it would all end soon.

   Yet here we are today, both invalids. Waiting for salvation and a life of love undisturbed by rememberances of horror; living in a world that shuns us exactly because we had fought for it. It’s hard to understand my love, I know. What felt so right then still feels just as right. If we could go back we would probably do just the same- for what is life worth if not for the struggle of a better one? Even if those we thought we were fighting for do not understand, I still believe in the cause that drove us; and I believe their todays are so much better for the years we spent in anguish. If we could go back, I still wouldn’t have offered to make you the wife of a servant who slogged for a Government that wanted to trample him and his people. It would not have been right to see you in a plush home tending to nothing more important than your flowers or hosting parties for ‘Babus’ who secretly looked down upon us.

      There’s only one thing I would change could we choose to go back, my love. I would take your hand on March 5, 1966 and not let go as I run, to meet whatever fate awaited us, together. Then, perhaps, I could always have been your knight.

March 2, 2013.

GROUPING OF VILLAGES IN MIZORAM

GROUPING OF VILLAGES IN MIZORAM
Lest we forget
For Zoram Ni

Background:
Mizoram was hard hit by a famine soon after the region was admitted into the Indian Union. The unsatisfactory remedial measures from Assam government resulted in a political disturbance that tormented the hills for about two decades spearheaded by the Mizo Famine Front, later transformed into a political unit called Mizo National Front (MNF). In February 1966 the MNF intensified its activities and the party decided to start an armed revolt.
The attack on the Aizawl Treasury began at midnight on 28th February, 1966 and the Lungleh Treasury was also attacked on the same day. Simultaneously the outposts of Lungleh, Tlabung, Champhai and Kolasib were attacked and captured whereas Aizawl was held out by the Ist Battalion Assam Rifles.
When the Government of India learnt of the outbreak, troops were sent to the area. By an Extra-ordinary Gazette Notification Published on 6th March, 1966, the Government of India declared the Mizo National Front an Unlawful Organization. Being satisfied that the MNF had been indulging in activities prejudicial to the security of Mizo District in the State of Assam and the adjoining part of the territory of India, the Central Government by effecting the necessary amendment of the rules ordered that Rule 32 of the Defence of India Rules, 1962 shall be applicable to the Mizo National Front.

The Defence Of India (Amended) Rule 32 of 1962
Rule 32 of the Defence of India Rules, 1962 as amended provides that no person shall-

a) manage or assist in managing any organization to which this rule applies.
b) promote or assist in promoting a meeting of any member of such an organization or attend any such meeting in capacity.
c) publish any notice or advertisement relating to any such meeting.
d) invite persons to support such an organization or otherwise assist the operation of such an organization.

If any person contravenes any of the provisions of this rule, he shall be punishable with imprisonment for a term which may extend to 7 years or with fine or with both.

The Mizo District was subsequently declared ‘a disturbed area’ under the Assam Disturbed Area Act, 1955. The Armed Forces (Assam and Manipur) Special Power Act, 1958 was also applied to the area by which the Government of India, under Article 352 of the Constitution, entrusted the responsibility of law and order in Mizoram to the Army and issued a strict instruction that the Army was to function as in war time but strictly in aid of the civil power. The matter was also discussed in the Parliament. Home Minister G.L Nanda made a statement in Parliament on March 3, 1966 saying, “the total number who took part in all those places- Lungleh, Aijal, Eayrengte (Vairengte), Chawngte and Chimluang (Chhimluang) who resorted to acts of lawlessness and violence were 800 to 1300 tribals… As a result of this, the army has been asked to deal with situation in Mizo Hills District. Transport of troops to Aijal by helicopters has been going on this morning and troops are also moving by road to Aijal and expected to reach by noon today.”

Grouping of Villages

Lt. General (later Field Marshal) Sam Manekshaw, GOC-In-C, Eastern Command, Calcutta, recommended grouping of villages to facilitate effective military operations. The Governor of Assam, B.K.Nehru, opposed the idea and the Central Cabinet rejected the army proposal of grouping on October 20, 1966. The army lobbied for its case during the next few weeks and the scheme was finally cleared by the Government of India on December 5, 1966. In its 6 P.M news broadcast on January 3, 1967, the All India Radio announced the decision of the Government to group villages in Mizo Hills for security reasons. Lt. General Manekshaw and A.N.Kidwai, Chief Secretary, Assam announced the decision in a Press Conference held in Calcutta and Shillong respectively on the same day. Formal orders were issued by B.C. Carriapa, Commissioner of Cachar and Mizo Hills Division and Ex-officio Central Government Liaison Officer for Mizo Hills, under Rule 57 of the Defence of India Rules, 1962.

In forty-nine days between 4th January and 23rd February, 45,107 inhabitants of 109 villages were forcibly grouped into 18 group centres on the main road of Vairengte- Aizawl-Lunglei.
The villagers were ordered to move bag and baggage with whatever property they could carry to the centre. All the grains, fowls and pigs that could not be carried were burnt along with their houses so as to keep food and shelter out of the reach of the insurgents. There was absolute confusion everywhere. Women were wailing and shouting and cursing. Children were frightened. Young boys and girls held hands and looked at their burning villages with a stupefied expression on their faces. Pigs were running about, mithuns were bellowing, dogs were barking and fowls setting up a racket with their fluttering and cackling.

The Village Council Presidents and Elders were ordered at gun point to sign the document that said that they were being harassed by the insurgents, and because their own village did not have communications, educational, medical and other facilities, they had voluntarily asked to be settled in the Grouping Centres under the protection of the Security Forces. Another document stated that they had burnt down their own villages, and that no force or coercion was used by the Security.

V.F.Jafa, an IAS officer of 1965 Batch who served as SDO (Civil) at Lunglei in 1967 and Additional District Magistrate, Aizawl in 1968, who was involved in the task of grouping honestly confessed, “We had to protect ourselves with false certificates”


Second and Third Phase of Grouping

In course of time, public resentment against grouping mounted and it was found that the legal base for the forceful grouping namely, the Defence of India Rules was weak. In Nagaland, it was used and withdrawn again in 1956-57. The Governor of Assam consequently promulgated early in 1968, an Ordinance known as ‘ The Assam Maintenance of Public Order (AMPO), 1968’ which was to be used as the legal base for the continued grouping of villages by force, in preference to the application of the Defence of India Rules.

The Second grouping order for grouping of another 185 villages, with a population of 95,917 to 41 centres was issued by the District Magistrate of Mizo Hills under the Assam Maintenance of Public Order Acts (AMPO), 1968. This was followed by a third forced grouping of 63 villages by the Army with a population of 47,056 in 26 centres in 1969 without any order from the Government. The Government regularized this grouping by an ex-post facto order issued in 1970 under AMRO. By 1972, there were 102 grouping centres accommodating 240,000 persons, or more than 80 percent of the Mizo Hill population of 285,000. The remaining 45,000 people lived in Aizawl, Lunglei, Saiha and a few ungrouped villages in the Pawi-Lakher region in the South.

Purpose of Grouping

The immediate aim of the grouping was to facilitate effective military operation against the underground elements who had taken control of the interior villages by cutting off the sources of food supply and shelter to the MNF as was conceived by the Army authorities. In every grouping centre there was a military unit to control them.

High Court stopped the Grouping of Villages

While the last two phases of grouping of villages were being carried out, the general resentment against grouping mounted to such an extent that one Mizo namely Sub. K. Zahlira (Rtd) of Saikhamakawn Village challenged the orders in the Gauhati High Court as violation of the Fundamental Rights guaranteed in the Constitution. The High Court directed the suspension of all further grouping and asked the Government of Assam to show cause as to why this order should not be made obsolete. The matter was dropped by the High Court on 6.1.1971 after the Government’s assurance that no further grouping of Villages was planned. Thus, the order issued for the third phase of grouping was cancelled. By this time, however, 80 percent of the population had already been relocated although the southern part of Mizoram was spared.

In spite of the grouping of villages in most parts, the intensity of the insurgency continued until about 1970. As a matter of fact, disturbances continued in a virulent form until 1980s.

The Pain
To mention the atrocities committed upon the Mizos, during the first four months alone, the MNF Secretary, Publicity Department, S.Lianzuala said, “So far as my knowledge goes, in North Mizoram district alone, the Indian Army burnt down 21 Villages and gutted 2,133 houses, they raped 54 women, out of whom 2 adult women and a minor girl died due to excessive copulation by a number of soldiers. They burnt 17 churches, and looted many others, cooking, sleeping inside the churches while the villagers were not allowed to worship there. They cursed those homeless bewildered women and children, saying that, ‘we do not care even if you all die, and we don’t need you. What we want is your land’. They treated the innocent Mizo people with fearsome manners and as cruel as possible.”

Tlangchhuaka also emphatically highlighted, “Like the World War II stories of rapes indulged in by Marshal Thukov and his soldiers in Berlin, they (Indian soldiers) did the same in Mizoram. They spoiled many virgin girls… even married ones… some girls were forced to their camps for their own pleasures. There is no limit to their atrocities. The men were driven away towards the jails with no chance to mention their rights. Many were beaten to death, hanged upside down and they suffered all kinds of tortures and as a consequence many were deformed physically. They called the general public meeting in the Churches, and used them for torturing and killing the inmates. They even raped some girls in the churches, and in some churches they did not allow them to come out of their meetings.”

When the disturbance broke out in Mizoram, the Indian Security Forces often disrupted and even dispersed church meetings in many villages. Lalthangliana Philips blamed them (the Security Forces) for defiling the churches and sacred properties wherever they went and of robbing and camping in the churches. The soldiers cut and tore the Holy Bibles and Hymn books into pieces and did not allow regular church meetings in most of their occupied villages. He further alleged that some of the Indian Commanding Officers even said, “You bloody Mizos, call upon your God Jesus, and bring him here that we may defeat him along with you.” These vile challenges flared up the religious sentiments of the people and alienated them into becoming strangers” .

Hundreds of Mizo families therefore sought refuge in Shillong and other places in Assam and Manipur and also in Burma to escape the chaos at home, and a further and much larger Mizo population were caught between two fighting armies. There was scarcity of food and other essential commodities in the district. The convoys which were run to bring in foods and other goods under security force protection were few and far in between because of the frequency of ambushes and heavy security force casualties. The Border Roads Organisation, which had been building strategic roads in the district since 1964, was also finding it difficult to build and maintain roads under such insecure conditions. To add to the Government’s discomfiture, there were reports of serious human and civil rights violations and maltreatment of civilians in the hands of the Security Forces.

Opposition

The MNF also understood the idea behind the grouping of villages and therefore, they opposed the grouping in their limited capacity. About 2,000 villagers of Keifang and Tualbung villages were successfully prevented by the Mizo National Army (MNF forces) from being grouped at Thingsulthliah Centre in January, 1967.

Life in the Grouping Centres

The manner by which the Indian troops carried this plan was cruel and treacherous. The Indian troops in battle dress marched in the night and surrounded villages before dawn to make sure that no villager escaped. The people were forced out of their ancestral homes with what they could carry in their hands. They were then driven like cattle to where nothing but torture awaited them. The Indian troops then searched vacated houses and took away any valuables they could find and then burnt the houses while the owners were still watching. As the Government of India thought that starvation of the MNF people will be one of the effective measures to crush their movement, they decided to burn the stores of grain of the people thereby inflicting suffering on the innocents too.

Many people compared the Grouping Centres with ‘Concentration Camps’. At the beginning, these centres were in the open air without any housing facility or even shade. The people had to sleep in open fields for days and nights. Children, even small babies, suffered under the scorching heat of the day and the chilly cold of the night while their parents were building thatched huts. Over and above, the people were given meager subsistence ration even while the troops forced them in fencing the grouping centres.

As they were not provided with housing facility all construction was to be borne by the villagers. Every movement of the people was under the strict vigilance of the troops and suspicion (of supporting MNF) had to be paid for with life. As such, at Thingsulthliah Camp, three boys who had gone to the jungles to cut bamboos for their house were shot dead on the mere suspicion of supporting MNF. Their bodies were covered with leafs and left at the spot. Their relatives, conscious of their unusual absence, went to the place and found their bodies.”

The Grouping centres were also used as forced labour camps. All the able persons were requisitioned to work in the military road construction, carrying water, fire woods, supplies of food items and ammunitions, clearing of jungles along roads, digging bunkers apart from fencing work with strict regimentation. They were forced to work as and according to the labour supervisors’ dictation. If a man raises any complaint he was paid with slashes of the armed supervisor’s whip.

The economic life of the Mizo people was greatly hampered. Jhuming cultivation was the main stay of the people but the people could not pursue their normal duty as they were not allowed to go out of the centre. Sometimes, the civilians were taken as a protection from surprise attacks of the MNF and used as human bunkers in the Army’s patrolling. With no means to earn a livelihood, there was starvation and dependence on the meager supplies.

Whenever there was an encounter between the security forces and the MNF, the aftermath was that the security forces either burnt down the village nearest to the place where the encounter took place or beat up the male members of the village or the first group of civilians they met. Such incidences generated bitterness and hatred in the public. In many of the encounters or ambushes, the security forces hardly ever caused casualty to the MNF but great harm did come to the innocent civilians.

The security forces also grossly abused the special power given to them, namely, arresting a person on suspicion. In many cases, they wrongly detained such persons for long periods and tortured them. Sometimes they used this method as a weapon of intimidation. For instance, if a villager reports to higher civil authorities against the wrong doing of the security forces in his village, the latter will arrest him charging him as a MNF sympathizer and threatened him with dire consequences.

Another instance of bitterness against the security forces is occasioned by their utter disrespect to the Church congregation. In some cases the security forces suspected some MNF or their agents as being present in the church congregation on Sundays. They came and drove the congregation of the Church in a most vulgar manner and herded them together in the open ground outside for long periods whether in rain or sunshine. There was a feeling that they were treated as aliens, worse than enemies.

Failure of Grouping

In spite of the grouping of villages, the intensity of the insurgency continued until 1970. As a matter of fact, disturbances continued in a virulent form until mid 1976. The main idea behind the grouping concept, that is to deny sources of food supply to the MNF, was thus belied. The desired results were never achieved.

The overwhelmingly harmful effect of Village Grouping on agricultural activities resulted in near famine conditions. The Government had no choice but to allow the villagers to go back to their old villages to enable them to work on their jhum. Thus, the grouping operations only caused untold sufferings and miseries to the general public resulting in the total ruin of the village economy and, more importantly, in the alienation of the minds of the villagers. The strange thing here was that the Government of India repeated the same measure in Mizoram in 1967 after it had failed miserably in Nagaland in 1967.

Vantawng-Hmuifang

The Beihrual service seemed to drag on and on. It wasn’t so much the fact that everyone had a thing to say about our topic but that none of them seemed to be able to get on without several repetitions, uncaring of how much time they were stealing from me. I say stealing because on the night of September 24, I had things to do. It was the last night of the ‘Beihrual at homes’ phase and we finally called it a night around 9:15, had tea, got home close to 10pm. The reason I was in such a hurry was because there was a trip that was supposed to leave by around 6 the following morning, destination Vantawng Khawhthla and Hmuifang Tlang.


Still drowsy after about 3 hours of sleep, made my way to college after 6am on the morning of September 25. My haste must have been obvious by the steps I was taking- for the very first time in my six years of walking to college, I was offered a lift!!!! A welcome move such as this is extremely rare and accepted eagerly. Bless the kind man who was on his way back from dropping his daughter off for her tuition.

Signed myself in and met some students before leaving in an hour. It was already after 7 when the gypsy finally picked me up at ‘Pi Pangi Kawn’ and we still had to do a detour through Khatla to get some stuff for our excursion. It was getting difficult to sit still by then because the kids going with us were already waiting for me at home, getting restless. Got dropped at home where I changed very quickly and was ready to leave in ten minutes. But things rarely ever go according to plan- it was good half hour before everyone was ready- there were exactly 29 of us.

This was a trip planned and sponsored by 3Dimension, a company that was getting ready to launch Package Tours in Adventure Tourism. The plan was to head out to Thenzawl and make our way to Vantawng Khawhthla- the tallest waterfall in Mizoram, and move on up to the Hmuifang Tourist resort for the night. There were two main players from 3 Dimension and their driver; two singer-guests, the cameraman, 9 guys from two adventure clubs and 11 of my young friends and the drivers of the two pick-up trucks. By the time we stopped to get fuel at Kulikawn, it was already 8 and I knew we were running late, so much so that we had to make an unplanned stop to have tea on the way cos we, mostly I, got so hungry it was getting close to a heartburn.

Brunch was done at Chamring where a man I used to know had built a nice restaurant, pretty impressive for the very basic, clean amenities. Everyone was hungry by then- it was close to 11 and it’s amazing to see how much some of us can eat at times!!!:))

From there, Thenzawl was a short drive and then on to the waterfalls. The small road leading to the viewing gallery was about 2.5 kms from the main road and rather tough. The gypsy made it fine with no major hick—ups but it was a little tougher for the trucks, and one of the guys made sure he was safe by jumping off at least thrice on the way in. A viewing gallery had been built at a strategic hillside by the Tourism department from where the falls could be seen in all its majesty. The building itself had seen better days though, the white walls both inside and out were lined with graffiti- not the arty kind, just names scrawled with charcoal obviously left by visitors over the years.
Inside we geared up to take the trek down to the falls- odomos and salt were liberally applied to ward off insects that do not care if they suck your blood and leave nasty scars on their wake. Some of the guys from the Adventure club went down as an advance party to make sure there was a road leading down to the crevice in the falls and the rest of us followed. The terrain downhill was steep, small, slippery and overgrown with wild bushes- not something any of us had experienced very often. And as we continued to move, sometimes slipping and screaming with surprise and anguish, we couldn’t help but feel at times that we were not exactly on the right route because we seemed to walk away from the falls, not going to it. And we were right- although we didn’t know it at the time. It seems the route normally taken by trekkers leading to the crevice that could be seen from the gallery was dangerous at the time because the monsoon had been a little heavy. And the advance party had taken the trouble to make way down a lesser travelled route going down to a lower end of the falls. It took us about an hour’s walk through a steep hillside of heavy vegetation but it was worth it

The Vantawng falls is best seen in the monsoon because the water cascading down was heavy, forceful and dangerously powerful. At the crevice where we landed up, the water flowed fast and furious and those of us who couldn’t swim made a beeline for the small inflatable boat two guys had managed to bring down. The water wasn’t particularly deep at the ends and there were rocks that we could step on to make our way around the sides of the water. The only problem was that they were mighty slippery- I was advised to wear socks for a better grip. Some of the guys began angling and fishing, but there wasn’t too much live taking bait- the only fish caught were those that were grabbed by hand!! A small tent was put up and a fire started- we warmed ourselves up but couldn’t really do too much as time was running with us behind.

The thought of making it up back to the gallery was scary. Going downhill was one thing- one could even slip down some stretches, but going back up was going to take every ounce of strength, and with slippery shoes like mine, just the thought itself was scary enough. I didn’t think I could do it- but there were absolutely no options- walk up or be stranded.

The trek itself turned out to be easier and shorter than I had anticipated but far more tiring. I was in a party of five, the guy in front had a stick I pulled myself up with many times, and the one behind had the unenviable task of pushing me forward at some points. We had to stop some six time because I was quickly running out of breath. One time, I thought I’d died, falling flat on my bosom at an uphill stretch of a very small clearing. If it wasn’t for the two guys who pulled me back to my feet, I might have slept there for some traveller to find my bones many years later)

Hmuifang Tourist resort and a good night’s sleep was definitely more appealing than any of the more expensive energy-requiring acts I could think of then. Dinner happened at the same place and it was dark by the time we left for Hmuifang. That was definitely not the way I had planned. We wanted to be at the resort by sundown, set up tents and a campfire with music and some entertainment. Sadly, that was not to be. The electricity was at minimum power and the lawns were pitch dark, no campfire because no wood was available (how could they not have thought of this before??) and no tents, therefore no sleeping under the stars because it was just too dark outside to see anything!!! What a major disappointment.


But the VIP room, which I was sharing with three of my young girlfrens was abuzz with activity. The boys had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do- we were drawing them like bees were drawn to nectar…hahahaha!!! Our bed was turned into a massage parlour of sorts, the sofas were full, some decided sitting on the floor was fun too Light down was after midnight. Not to miss- 3 of us girls bathed together in the huge bathtub in our room!!

The morning of September 26 turned out to be beautiful and sunny, and not a cloud covered the horizon. The tents came up at campsite, umbrellas and chairs set up atop a small mount making a picturesque sight. The gypsy then made it up to Hmuifang tlang, one of the most beautiful hill sites in Mizoram.

The hilltop was worth the tricky but beautiful approach route that scared me at times. On the way up, there were spots that would have inspired beautiful lines from people more creative than the seven who made it up. Hmuifang tlang is special for the sight it offers- you can see the hills of Bangladesh and Burma and it is located right about the middle of Mizoram making it possible to sight Aizawl on the north and Lunglei on the south as well. The hill looks as though it has been covered with a stretch of artificial grass- beautiful beyond my vocabulary. The surprise for me was the growth of pine trees- something I haven’t seen anywhere else in the state, though I certainly am no authority on the matter. I wanted to sit there forever…

The trip back home is another story all by itself again. We were going to take the rough track over what is called ‘Midum Kham’, a very steep terrain, tall, rocky and entirely risky. The road was rough and the rains had made it more uneven and dangerously slippery. And I had decided to travel on the back of the pick-up truck- call me crazy! There were at least a dozen times when I thought our truck was gonna slip, slide and fall on its sides- I so wanted to jump down. But the guys around me made sure I sat still though they had to bear my ear-piercing screams. Through that rough path we made our way through the villages of Sumsuih, Thiak and Lungsai finally reaching the highway at Aibawk where we stopped to eat.

Adventure trips like this are an eye-opener. Mizoram has so much to offer that I am yet to explore. To be born here, to live most of my life here and to die never having seen at least some of these sights, to never have experienced fear from the hills I love, to never have seen the other lives I share this space with- that would have been a tragedy!

Thlanrawkpa Khuangchawi- a Mizo oral tale

THLANRAWKPA KHUANGCHAWI
In a time many ages ago, Thlanrawkpa was to hold the Khuangchawi ceremony for which he invited all the living beings on earth. As preparation for the feast, food, meat and rice beer were made on a very large scale. The house was renovated and the fields were levelled to hold the many guests who had been invited.
When the guests arrived, Thlanrawkpa gave names to each of the creatures who attended based on their peculiar qualities. A hen came up from the mud and she was named ‘Chirhi’ (mud) but as time passed, “chiri chiri” became the common address for the hen. Then there came a Zuhrei who was named ‘Zurei’ for he took so long in brewing beer (Zu- beer, rei- long). This name also became modified to the now common ‘Zuhrei’. There was a cat that came walking along a small bamboo rod at which they wondered, “Look at how tight the walk is!” and they named it ‘Zawhte’ (Small walk). The squirrel came sauntering in an even narrower walk over a rope and when they saw this, they cried, this walk is even tighter!” and they named the animal ‘Theihlei’ (even more able) which in course of time was amended to the modern ‘Thehlei’ for squirrel. These and many other creatures came, they were all named and together they roamed at Thlanrawkpa’s large field while he encouraged them to make friends with everyone. Following his advice, the Sakhi (deer) and the sakuh (porcupine) made friends and danced to a song they made up out of a combination of their names. When the two started dancing a Tangkawng wanted to join them and his name was also added to the song. The trio’s merry dance made the Varihaw want to join them and his name was also added to the song. They happily danced to the beat of their song in great joy.
The following day was the start of the Khuangchawi and the thingdim people feasted at the father-in-law’s house practising their dance moves the whole night. They approached the dancing ground the following day in great merry-making and there was great merry-making in the air. One could see pig dung with feathers swaying, and there was cock dung moving to the beat of the bamboo rat’s drum. The Zuhrei came with feathers on its hair and when they saw her dance, they appreciated it in song,
“Watch the Zuhrei with flowers on her hair,
Beauty she has and grace is hers.” The Buipui became jealous and joined the show with flowers on its head but the song it inspired was completely different:
“Watch the Buipui with flowers on its head,
There is no beauty, there is no grace.” At this the Buipui was so greatly angered it suddenly made off with the drum and hid itself in a deep cave. The dancers were disturbed for they could not dance without the drum so they sent a hen to ask for the drum but the Buipui was adamant. So they decided to flood the cave and at this, the Buipui got scared and threw the drum out hitting the hen right at the knees. It is said that this was how the hen got its knees overturned.
With the drum back, they proceeded to dance again and at the lead was the Sahuai (Loris). But the sun, which they had requested not to shine, could no longer stop himself, consumed as he was with the desire to watch the dancers. As the sun came up from the horizon, the Sahuai did its best to stop its rise for if the sun did shine, the dung that were dancing would dry up and the changpat would tire quickly. But the sun could not be stopped for long and as it made its way up, the dung quickly dried up and the changpat tired and the dancing stopped. So greatly angered was the Sahuai at this that he vowed to be at war with the sun for always. To this day, the Sahuai refuses to look at the sun, even if you hold its head up, you will find that it always has its eyes closed.
Evening came and it was time for Saveichawi and everyone stood in queue to get their food. With their left hands they took the meat and rice beer with their right. The lizard was a sly creature. On one line he turned a red gullet and on the other a black. On both lines he would say, “I’m a guest, I haven’t yet got the left hand meat’ and thus was served twice. From this came the popular proverb, ‘Lehlama awr dum, lehlama awr sen.’ At that time when everyone was feasting with great glee, an owl somehow did not get the meat and was sitting by the door greatly displeased. The Zuhrei, full in the stomach mistook the owl’s displeasure for something else and passing by said, “Look at the owl full to his brim!” This angered the owl so much he ran after the Zuhrei, right up to the mouth of its burrow. It sat at the mouth but the Zuhrei, clever creature that it is, made a Hrultun on the other side and escaped the owl’s watchful vigil. From this incident came the word ‘Chhimbudawi’. Then there was the hen who was a widow at the time of the Khuangchawi. The Sanghar wooed the hen and finally succeeded in sleeping with her. Then the Sanghar boasted about his feat and a court was held before Thlanrawkpa. The hen was lost for words and was so upset she could only cry while the Sanghar was smug and continued to show off. The saying ‘Arpuia lungchhia, Sanghara lunglawm’ originated from this episode.
The time came for the guests to leave and Thlanrawkpa put on a disguise and awaited his guests on their way to find out if his guests would show any appreciation. The first creature to come by in a great hurry was a bullock and Thlanrawkpa stooped him to ask whether he had enjoyed the Khuangchawi. The cow in a foul mood replied, “That Thlanrawkpa! Says he’s holding a Khuangchawi but where did we find gratification, or enough to fill our stomachs!” On hearing this Thlanrawkpa said, “You ungrateful creature, because you have not appreciated what Thlanrawkpa did, you will forever work under harsh conditions to fill your stomach.” Then there came a crab and Thlanrawkpa asked the same question to which it replied, “May Thlanrawkpa live forever! Grand was the Khuangchawi and filled our we to satisfaction!” Thlanrawkpa was greatly pleased with this answer and pronounced, “For your show of gratefulness, you will eat from this day from what defecate and live in comfort.” Now the crab was not pleased with this but Thlanrawkpa explained that the fish would jump to eat his defecation and the crab could in turn catch the fish for its food. Pleased with this boon the crab went on its way.
Then came a Paite and a Tuikuk on their way home. They too were gratified at the Khuangchawi and Thlanrawkpa gifted them both a special blade for splitting bamboos. This is why, it is said, that to this day, the Paite and the Tuikuk at better skilled at crafts than is the Mizo. Finally there came a Mizo and a Vai singing of their great joy at the Khuangchawi. Thlanrawkpa was pleased to hear them and gifted the Mizo with a leather parchment while to the Vai he gave a Laisuih (ordinary paper). He said, “Keep these with great care for within it is food and riches and all the knowledge you can find.” The Mizo, still drunk with rice beer, simply kept his gift in a Sum from where a dog picked it up ran off with it. The Vai on the other hand kept it safely, and willed it to his children as well. This is why the Vai have greater knowledge and riches. But since Thlanrawkpa had given a gift of higher quality to the Mizo, this gift lives on and is evident in that the Mizo always excels when put to similar tasks with a Vai.
To all his guests, Thlanrawkpa gave the message, “All my dear subjects, I know you all wish for me to have a long life, and I shall have one. Should anything happen to me and I should die, there is above you in the heavens your caretaker ‘Pu Vana’. If you should require help for any of your problems, just throw your dices up and ask him to take care of you and he shall always help.”

mizogurl came from chhinlung!!!

lemme introduce the Mizo people to you- not so much from History books as from what the folk have preserved and believed over the years-
The Mizo[1] people trace their origin to Chhinlung, a crevice within the earth literally meaning ‘closed stone’. Based on the rich oral tradition that has been passed on from father to son through many generations, they believe their forefathers emerged from this fissure in couples to populate the earth. The oral tradition, in the absence of a written language, had given the Mizo his identity, origin and history. The language of the people, also called ‘Mizo’, is what was originally the Duhlian dialect of the dominant Mizo sub-tribe known as the ‘Lusei’ or ‘Lushai’ clan. Capt. T.H.Lewin[2] assigns the name ‘Dzo’ to the tribes inhabiting the hills east of the Chittagong district in Lower Bengal, for whom the term ‘Kuki’ is applied by the inhabitants of the plains. Although the term ‘Kuki’ was frequently used in referring to the inhabitants of present Mizoram (formerly called Lushai Hills), this term was replaced by ‘Lushai’ after the Expedition of 1871-72. This was in its turn replaced by the generic term ‘Mizo’ since 1950. (Chatterjee 1) The various clans and sub-tribes have now come to be included under the term ‘Mizo’. Capt. Lewin found the Lushai dialect to be common and understood by all the ‘Dzo’ tribes, it being “the clan tongue of the great family from which all the chiefs are said to have sprung” (3). The creation of this common dialect is credited to a Sailo chief called Lallula around 1740 AD (Thanga, 17). This dialect did not have a known written form till the advent of the Christian missionaries who framed the Mizo ‘A Aw B’ or the Mizo alphabet in the 19th century. Oral folk tradition tells a different story asserting that the Mizo had been gifted the art of writing or a script in the form of a leather parchment. However, this gift was lost when a dog ate it because the Mizo had been careless with its safekeeping (Zawla,K. 5). Whatever be the truth, the fact remains that the British colonizers found the language of their subjects without a written form in the early years of their encounter. This did not mean, however, that the Mizo did not satisfy their literary inclinations. Their literature, though oral, found expression in the art of telling stories, legends, parables and a rich body of songs, which are now preserved as the folklore of the Mizo people.
[1] The Mizo people are the people inhabiting Mizoram and spread over other hill states in North East India.
[2] Capt. Thomas Herbert Lewin was the Deputy Commissioner of Chittagong Hills