Deeenigma - To be or not to be

Bachelor Night Party

2006-10-23T11:07:00.000-07:00

Of late, I have been inundated with invitations for what is known as the “bachelor night party”, the meaning of which differ greatly depending on the person throwing the party. Loosely, from the various parties that I have attended so far, I gather the meaning is something like this – a night essentially with lots of booze where the party thrower pays with a sad face, while the others regale to celebrate/mourn the happy/unhappy transition of their close friend from the status “Single” to “Married”. No girls are allowed.

Anyway, the story is not about the Bachelor party. This is a love story. The story goes like as follows: some personal details have been censored for obvious reasons.

At one such bachelor party at an undisclosed place in Bangalore, we were talking about the party giver, as was customary, after the initial first round of Johnny Walker, which we ordered royally without any perspiration or hesitation.

“So Jayanta, tell us about your love story”, Bobby started.

“We want to know how it all started”

Jayanta took a sip. Everyone was looking at him.

“You remember the June Uprising in Manipur”, he started.

“Yeah! Who can forget that?” remarked Uttam.

“Well … about 3 months before that I was in Delhi. I was looking for a job. It was one of the hardest times of my life. I scouted for jobs everywhere but I could not get a single one. I lost all hope”, Jayanta trailed off with a sigh.

He took another sip.

“Then I left Delhi. I came down to Bangalore hoping that I might strike something here. With my degree and about a couple of thousands in my pocket, I boarded the KK Express in the general compartment.

“I crashed in Santomba’s place. That was before that he got married to Linda. As soon as I landed, I started my search for a job. I was pretty desperate. I thought I was completely useless. I never thought my life would hit such a low.

“I tried all kinds of jobs – Call centers and software. Most call centers would reject me out right. They say my English was accented. I could not agree more. I thought maybe I should eat less ngari or buy a new set of tongue cleaners.

“I thought I would call it quits. Maybe I should go back home and retire. After all, I turned out to be good for nothing.

“At such time was when I met Sandhya. I first met her at Sanatomba’s place. She was a friend of Linda. Well, I didn’t fell in love at first sight or anything. She, I recollect, was studying in her final years. We chatted a bit on the terrace. I found her to be nice to talk to. She enquired about me. It was embarrassing to tell her the truth. I mostly evaded the questions.

“After that I had not seen her for about a month or so. I was busy looking for jobs. Actually I got pretty pissed off with myself and with others that I had stopped looking for about a week or so. I stopped calling home too. I dreaded when Baba or Ema would ask me about the progress in my job search. They would sometimes call in Sanatomba’s cell phone, worried.

“Anyway, so one day, even as I was walking alone in Jayanagar like a vagabond, I bumped into Sandhya again. She immediately recognized me. I thought I would duck and run away. She already spotted me. I smiled at her.

“So we started talking. I had hoped she would not enquire about my job search. She did anyway. There was a quality about her. She had that soothing effect when you talked to her. So I started telling her about my desperation at not able to land myself a job even after 3 months. I told her I wanted to burn by B.E degree. She laughed at the thought.

“Then she told me the most amazing story that would probably be one of the most inspirational and defining moment in my life, if there ever was such a moment as defining moment. She started telling me a story about a guy whom she addressed as ‘Da Bijoy’. She said about Da Bijoy and his struggle when he first came to Bangalore. She said he was however determined. He struggled for 6 months doing odd jobs until he finally landed with not one but three offers from the Fortune 100’s companies. She told he was in the verge of starting his own company that time.

“So after that incident, I kept meeting her often. To see her mainly because I started liking her but also partly to hear more about Da Bijoy. She kept fuelling me with new stories about Da Bijoy. I kept pestering her to introduce me to him. Maybe some of his determination would rub over me. I thought.

“I kept seeing her regularly for about 2 months. While not preparing or looking for jobs, I went to meet her at her hostel. On one such occasion, I asked her if she would consider a jobless and penniless guy as suitable if such a guy were to ask her out. She replied it depended on the guy. So I asked if the guy were more like me. She smiled and said, in that case, she would definitely go out with the guy. I thought she took pity over such a poor man and accepted.

“So during the turbulent times of sadness and desperation, Sandhya came into my life like a harbinger of hope. She sold me hopes when I would have given up.

“After another 2 months, I landed with a job offer in small software company called Trisha. I rejoiced. Me and Sandhya celebrated with Samosa chat at Jayanagar 4^th Block. However, I didn’t join Trisha because after 3 days, I got another offer from Accenture. I could not believe it myself. I took the offer letter to her hostel to make sure that it was indeed an offer for me.

“So that was how Sandhya and I met and fell in love”, Jayanta completed after the 5^th round.

“Wow. I love your story” I remarked. “Beautiful”

“So what about Da Bijoy?” Uttam asked. “Did you get to meet him?”

“Oh! I kept trying to find out about him. I asked her persistently. I could not find anything about him. Actually I found out that Da Bijoy was a myth she had made up the day she saw me in such a sorry state.

“But to me, Da Bijoy and his story is more real and close to me”

Uttam gave a surprised look.

“So to Da Bijoy, another round”, said Bobby who had been quite for sometime.

“Cheers to Da Bijoy”

After the party, I left feeling lighter and happier. Maybe merrier too. I whistled thinking about the story. Behind every success, there is a woman. Lovely.

Hats off to Sandhya.

Lucky Bastard. Jayanta. Hic!

Also published at e-pao. Clink Here.

The New Alpha Meitei Pakhang

2006-02-08T10:57:00.000-08:00

Prologue::

This write up is a product of a series of discussions with many Meitei Pakhangs** like me, sometimes over the internet & sometimes over a glass of whiskey. It’s interesting to note that some generalizations can be drawn over the discussion over the common issues like love for Manipur, threats from Mayangs*** over Meitei Nupis, anger at treatments meted out or at being called the ubiquitous Nepali etc.

This is a sincere and humble attempt to define the new Alpha- Meitei Pakhang.

**Manipuri:: bachelor
***Manipuri:: non-Manipuris

Disclaimer:: This writing may cause serious discrepancy when thoughts are applied. Please take with a pinch of salt.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

When I was in Manipur, whenever I heard of people speaking highly about another, it was always “Puk eengba, gyan taba, leirik laishu heiba & thabak touba ”**. I guess not much might have changed when a Meitei family is looking for an eligible Meitei Pakhang.

**Manipuri:: “Cool & Calm, understanding, good at studies & with a job”.

However there are changing realities for the Meitei Pakhang now. The battle ground for claiming the hands of beautiful and eligible Meitei Nupis are no longer the sanctity of only the Meiteis. With increasing globalization and battle ground expanding from the traditional Meitrabak** to include different parts of the globe, especially many parts of India, Meitei Pakhangs are now faced with serious threats from the competitions of the much maligned Mayangs.

**Manipuri:: Manipur

It is high time the Meitei pakhang redefine themselves lest they are left behind in the race for the most eligible. For the first time, the threat is looking really ominous. Many of the Meitei pakhangs are devasted when they learnt that one of the beautiful and eligible Meitei nupi had been swept off her feet by a charming, dashing and rich Mayang nupa**. They often ask themselves why, why & why, of course over a glass of whiskey. They felt betrayed as if something which was their rightful had been taken away. Some blame the money factor, others agree that it was the poverty plaguing the Meitei Pakhangs & yet others felt they needed to be well groomed to compete with changing realities.

**Manipuri:: guy

Fact is for Meitei meeting another fellow Meitei is an occasion. Besides Meiteis, from my personal views are really bad at socializing. Yours truly included! Most Meiteis don’t come out of the comfort zone easily and mostly hang around with fellow Meiteis only, even though many have come out of Manipur for a long time. This is especially true for the Meitei nupas. I guess it must have been the inhibitions in each of us.

Let’s do a SWOT (Strength, Weakness, and Opportunities & Threats) analysis of the Meitei Pakhang.

Strength:

Better dressed than average Indians. Average looks good as well.
Can dabble English & Hindi Songs. Most play guitar well.
Fluent with most known drugs J.
Many are health conscious. Average plays 2 or more games.
Loves Manipur. Everything about Manipur.
Friendly when close.
Techno Savvy.

Weakness:

Less Expressive.
Egoistically very unstable & can fight at the drop of a hat!
Often accented and needs to work on the pronunciation.
Low on self confidence.
Yet to cross over the Meitei comfort zone and explore the beauty of the beyond.
Very low social skills.
Terrible dancer.
Bad conversationalist.

Opportunities:

Opportunities to date girls from different cultures.
Whole world at finger tip through the web and healthy presence of Meiteis across the globes.

Threats:

Because of low social skills, “Puk eengba, gyan taba, leirik laishu heiba & thabak touba” are not getting enough opportunities to get the right Meitei nupi.
Competitions for limited eligible girls with market opening up due to globalization.

Of course, I know for sure that if the Alpha Meitei Pakhang is unleashed, not many girls across the world would be able to resist. Let’s call Alpha Meitei Pakhang as AMP for short.

Imagine a new alpha Meitei Pakhang who is Puk eengba, gyan taba, leirik laishu heiba & thabak touba, dressed extremely well and full of self confidence walks up to a charming girl in a crowded restaurant and ask her if she would be interested in a dancing.

Then the girl says, “Thank you. But I know only Tango”.

The AMP smiled and flashed his charming Colgate white teethes and said, “It’s perfect!”, and extended his hand towards her.

With his superior music knowledge, he excused himself from the charming girl in the dance floor and walked towards the sleepy DJ and asked him, “Do you have any Roberto Firpos?”

The DJ replied with a start,” Only Juan D’Arienzo”.

“Please play Tangos Para El Mundo followed by Sus Primeros Exitos”.

The charming girl was floored after 2 Tangos and then the AMP smoothly kissed her good bye but only after she slipped her number in a note in his hand.

She said with a naughty smile,” I enjoyed it”.

The note read – Sandy: XXXXXXX1243. Call me.

The next morning, he wakes up and goes to office. He finds out that he needs to organize a new team for the new development project his company had recently bagged from Spanish Bank. He neatly plans out the day ahead and call for a meeting with the Delivery Managers and Marketing Head to discuss the project plans. It’s a tough negotiation meeting especially with the Delivery Head hell bent on the fact that existing resources are enough to complete the project within deadlines.

So a presentation is properly laid out which highlights the overall plan and the risks associated and how it can be mitigated.

With a highly persuasive and reasonable presentation made by the newly improved Alpha Pakhang, the Delivery Head reluctantly conceded the need to hire 7 extra developers and 1 new technical lead. The newly joined Delivery Manager, Mrs. X gave an appreciative look. Then as a part of Handshake protocol, he arranged a telecon with the Spanish Bank’s IT VP Mr. Mario Sanchez at 2:30 PM.

“Buonas díaz, Mr Sanchez” **, AMP greets.

“Cómo usted está haciendo? “.***

“Estoy muy bien. Gracias.”****, Mr. Mario replies.

**Spanish:: “Good Morning, Mr. Sanchez”
***Spanish:: “How are you doing?”
****Spanish:: “I am fine. Thank you”

All heads in the conference room turned. Then AMP smoothly turns into English introducing the Delivery Head and other managers. After the telecon, the Delivery Head asked,” when did you learn Spanish?”

After a hard & satisfying day at work, he called up Sandy and asked her if she might be interested in a dinner with him. She said she would come over by 8:45 pm.

It’s already 6:15 pm. The AMP called up his parents at home.

“Hello Ema. Chak Charabrou?”

“Chak Chareenae”.

“ Adudee konna touraklagae”.

“Keishu Kaidaeda”.

“Eina Paisa khara thakheebanee. Loopa Leeshing tara amana Leibrary mei chakkhie badugae khara peekrou”.

“Loopa Leeshing taradi yaamandrou?”

“Keishu Kaidaedaa. Eishu thainaa aanang oireeda yaamna chatlakee. Tamo Mohindro da peekho”

… the conversation goes on for 30 mins talking to Ema, baba & Boiboi.

***Translation:

“Hello Mother. Had food?”

“We are eating now”.

“ Then I will call up later”.

“It’s OK”.

“I sent some money. Out of that Please give Rs. 10000 as a charity for that Leibrary rebuilding”.

“Rs. 100000 is too much!”

“It’s OK.When I was a kid I used to go there often.Five it to Mohindro”

… the conversation goes on for 30 mins talking to Ema, baba & Boiboi.

The AMP took out Sandy to CitiLights and seduced her with his witty conversations over wine mixed with vegetable salads.

Well. Well. The new improved version of Alpha Meitei Pakhang may well be a lil’ distant dream for an average Meitei but many are well on the way there, though we have a long way to go before we reach there. It’s high time Meitei Pakhangs come of age and embrace the new wave with excellence. To perform the magic which we believed we have. To be a good son, a good lover, a smooth dancer, a good & loyal friend, a killer with words irrespective of language and to be truly international.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Also published at E-pao.

Thabal Heat in Delhi

2006-02-08T10:39:00.000-08:00

It is interesting to note how much Thabal Chongba is loved and enjoyed by Manipuris. I am a true Manipuri in that respect. I simply love thabal chongba. Three reasons why I would go extra miles for a thabal are:

1) Thabal Chongba as a form of dance is exceedingly interesting and gives a lotsa room for improvisation. It’s always a challenge to find new rhythm to the charming but simple beats of “ Dong ku ta kum - Dong ku ta kum”

2) So many young people come to either watch or dance. I love young people especially the girls J.

3) Opportunity to meet friends whom I have lost touch.

For a person like me, whose life has been sucked fast into the spiraling whirlpool of corporate workloads, point 2 & 3 are especially important. I feel I need to connect to more Manipuris. To get the feel back. Having a spoonful of eromba and ngari on a monthly basis ain’t enough. Sipping coffee and looking at the vast expanse of beautiful green lawns between office breaks ain’t filling my youthful heart enough. I need a dose of Thabal Chongba on monthly basis (if I have my wayJ). But alas, it ain’t. So when I heard, while on a break trip to Delhi, there was Thabal, I was overjoyed. I believed tears rolled down my face, when I read my friend’s SMS.

So I went to North Campus with my friends. “Police Ground is the venue and pick me up at Ashram”, my friend had said. I readily paid 50 rupees for the entry.

Pretty Boys and Girls enjoying the Thabal

“Oh my God, there were so many Manipuris living in Delhi”. By my rough estimates, the crowds that were flowing must be an equivalent of Elangbam leikai and Top Leirak combined. I was overjoyed. Point 2 was instantly gratified. There were so many pretty young things dressed up for the occasion. I immediately fell in love with three girls, all of them friends. That’s the perennial problem of life. Why do girls I like have to be friends!

And of course, I met up so many friends from school as well.

I finished my 4^th round and making my moves to one of the three. I even held her delicate hands and wandered if it would not melt if I squeezed it a little harder. I liked her perfume. Even as I was cozying up with smooth talk with lady with beautiful eyes and spirited rhythm, typical Manipuri cowboys spoiled the dance by fighting it out in the middle of Thabal. I wandered if this was a test from God. The timing was so conspicuous. I thought it was but a conspiracy of God to make me a bachelor throughout my life.

Of course, after the cowboys show, the Thabal never lived up especially when she was nowhere to be found. It’s a tantalizing feeling I had for a stranger in a nice way. I even thought for a while I was in love. Long after the thabal dhon had died down, I was still yearning for her. Even wandering what her name was. I thought it was unbecoming at my age.

Of course there was another thabal, some days later. This time it was free entry. Rumors had it that it was organized by those cowboys who spoiled the thabal, the other day. Whatever may it be, I was geared up again. However, another agenda – 4^th Agenda is added.

4) To look for that girl.

I walked up to the Thabal ground with my face flushed with anticipation and heart pounding like the thabal drum. I went round the ground in search of that girl with my friends but nah, she was nowhere to be found. I danced but not with the same rhythm like I did. The dance was there but the heart was gone. I think I should retire from Thabal. I think the thabal heat is becoming a little too much for an ageing young heart like me.

Also Published at E-Pao.

Kaboklei – My Youthful Meanders!

2006-02-08T10:26:00.000-08:00

My fascination for Kaboklei started over an article she wrote. But it did not end there. Kaboklei started occupying my mind. She became like a envitable dream borne out of my youthful meanders.

For all my readers. A small recap of what had traversed so far. I, with all innocence and for no fault of mine, was running over the e-pao for the ominous news of bloodshed from my beloved native and homeland. However, in between the pages of bloodshed, I found a innocuous looking link that reads as “Marriageable Age”. What happened after reading that innocent looking article is history and with it my innocence lost forever.

Kaboklei, which actually is a name of a flower in Manipuri whose scent melts unwitting hearts of travelers in the night became something like a nemesis. My work, my codes, my love for books which had hitherto been my love had become a background scenery in my dreamy world. She brought out within me strange feelings which I thought had been lost in my past teenage agony. My mind became a house of deep obsession and uncanny fantasy. Kaboklei, the loveless lady became a ministry of love to me. She fuelled my dreams like a demon possessed with venomed rage. I wandered at the silliness of it. Of all of it.

Strange things have happened to human beings. I don’t know if this ain’t the strangest. But some sanity brought by the unwise rememberance of the story long read ,the name of the story which I could not recollect presently, where in the hero and the heroine met over the handwritten note left in one book in a public library. Well my story seemed saner than the one portrayed in that unmindful story. This gave me some comfort , both to my mind and my ailing heart.

So here I am. With just the scent of Kaboklei and nothing more. But smitten all the same. My mind wanders into a dreamy world – the world of Kaboklei.

I wandered if Kaboklie had those dark flowing hairs hiding the delicate nape like those receding angels that haunt my dreams. Or that she had those soft unusually beautiful eyes. Or that her skin would scintillate with heart filling scent and her laughters causing ripples in my heart. Or holding her hands would make me forget myself.

Woking up from Kaboklei daze almost always filled with a sense of regret and weariness , at the realization of the painful reality of monotony of daily life. But something filled my mind today. I wandered if these fascinations and fantasies are the result of the deep yearning for those that were suppressed long time ago as a growing up teen. That Kaboklei had been deep there, always with me. It was just that the innocent looking article had touched the raw nerve and awoken the sleeping damon in me. Maybe a Sigmund Freud in one of us can interpret my dreams and help me rest my damons again.

Or perhaps Kaboklei is the epitome of the perfect lady I sought. Maybe in my imaginations, I had levied merciless beauty in her that my imagination became captivated with her forever.

Or perhaps, I am plainly lonely. Perhaps. Living far away form the cosy comfort of home, fighting the city indifference alone can sometimes produce mirages in the brain. High time, I find myself the correct denomination to settle the lonely scuffle inside me. High time I find my Kaboklei. Lest the city indifference consumed my sanity.

** This Story was never published. Not until now.

Marry me at Marriageable Age - My Story

2006-02-08T10:08:00.000-08:00

...m a dreamer. But who is not? ...

"14 to 40", she started her story.

It is strange how simple and honest things attract a reader. I felt a slight tinge of familiarity with her writings as I went through her story.

She proclaimed her name was Kaboklei. And she was 31.

I wandered if she smelt like Kaboklei. Why the hell was I thinking about her? For all, she might have been the "big fat truck" her cousin described.

Then she talked about being a shortie. I like great legs. She said she does not like to marry a shortie like her. Still a thought clamoured, "Will 5 Feet 8 inch do? ". With shoes, I might be even 5 feet 9 inch.

Well, I am just over 25. A difference of 6 years. Well … Demi Moore was dating a younger guy. Maybe I still have my chance : . My mind wandered across the words she wrote. Shameless thoughts about the writer smashed youthful wanderings.

Somebody had once remarked, " You are a flirt."
"Yeah, I am. Except I have no trophies to show."

But never fallen in love for 31 years! That's a tall claim. Atleast to me. I seemed to fall in love with all shapes and sizes. Already I can write 12 short love stories and 2 long love stories. That way, I don't have the prejudice against heights of this interesting writer, I am currently writing about. Which meant I might even like her. I already felt that reading her story.

Deeply I realized that she belonged to that tribe of Manipur who are educated outside Manipur and never got the opportunity to mingle around other Manipuris. Who stayed away from the "bad Meitie macha" and concentrate on studies only, as so many of us were adviced when we got out from Manipur. At the same time, marrying a Mayang still was a deep social stigma. She never fell in love anyway. Perhaps she was waiting for the dashing Manipuri, after all.

I was just scanning the e-pao at leisure between works and coffee. Then this Kaboklei story held me in daze.

It was a comforting thought that I was not the only one who is lonely. It made me wander if I could provide some comfort to her. Maybe share her joys and sorrows as she wanted. Perhaps hold her hand to make her heart beat faster.

"Why the hell are such thoughts coming to me?" It made me think if I was a flirt after all.

She wrote she would marry the guy she fell in love.

31 years of loveless life. I wander if that would happen. I know I sound cynical.

I had been chasing receding angels. Sometimes I wander when would I give up chasing them. Some misunderstood my persuit with chasing skirts. I completely don't agree with those charges. But truth is I am still looking for "My Angel".

Hence the wanderings of my mind on this writer hadn't been entirely purposeless. Maybe an Angel at 31. I even wandered if asking this angel at 31 to marry me at marriageable age would strike out of place. Perhaps it would. Ema would faint if she learnt about this.

I was a flirt after all. I was just trying to flirt, I thought. Perhaps I was as lonely as her. Perhaps we could adopt a kid together. Perhaps.

Also Published at E-Pao.

Marry me at Marriageable Age - Kaboklei's Story

2006-02-08T10:03:00.000-08:00

The story that started it all ... as published in e-pao.

Kaboklei's Story