SOS: Mautaam Kialpi

In a small hamlet in the interiors of Lamka (Churachandpur) District, Manipur, a family of five is having lunch, sharing among themselves whatever meager amount of food they had. The smallest among the three siblings, aged four, obviously unaware of the hardships they are going through, utters, “Papa, why haven’t you get me any Christmas gift this year?” He looks at his wife and three children, wipes a silent tear and mutters to himself, “How long will our meager stock of rice last?”. He thinks about his better-off relatives who had migrated to Lamka. Deep down, he silently hopes for help to arrive from them.

In Lamka, a daily wage earner glances through the morning paper, Lamka Post, before setting off for another gruelling day at work when a headline catches his eye, “Help Your Fellow Zomis in Need, Contribute in Cash or Kind” . He opens his “savings box”, counts the meager savings he made for the purchase of the much-needed inverter (you all know without my telling you the quantity of power supply we get in Lamka) and heads towards the Mautaam Relief office. The inverter can wait for another year, the plight of his fellow Zomis in the villages is much more acute.

In New Delhi, a government servant is woken up by an early morning telephone call from a Mautaam Relief representative entreating him to contribute towards helping the victims of Mautaam Kialpi. He heads towards the bank, transferred his savings meant to buy a computer to the Mautaam Relief Fund and heads towards North Block. The computer can wait, however necessary it may have become in today’s world, he couldn’t turn a deaf ear to the cries of his brethren back home.

In Bangalore, a call centre executive is about to sleep for the day after her shift ended at 5:00 am in the morning when her Nokia N73 makes a beeping sound. She grabs her mobile and reads the SMS on Mautaam forwarded by her friend in Gurgaon. She calls up her broker, instructs him that she wants to redeem/sell her mutual fund units and dozes off to sleep. When the money is credited to her account, she will contribute towards the Mautaam Relief Fund. What does it matter if she can’t go for her weekly shopping and hangout with her friends at the most happening joints in the city. What better way of unwinding than helping those who are in distress.

In Mumbai, an executive working in a reputed multinational checks his e-mail on his laptop before setting off for another hectic day at work. He quickly glances through the mass e-mail seeking monetary contributions towards Mautaam Kialpi. He logs on to his internet banking account, and clicks on the ‘Transact’ button to contribute towards the cause. He had slogged during his IIM days, landed his dream job at this large multinational and saved diligently to buy that dream home. But that can wait for some time, God has put him in this position today to help his fellow Zomis in their hour of need.

Reams of paper and bits and bytes of web space have been used to write about the dreaded Mautaam, which rears its ugly head on Lamka District and the neighbouring Mizoram state. The Mizos have their own state, a government run by their own people and they are ready to face the challenges posed by the threat. We, the Zomis, cannot afford that luxury. We are in a much more depressing situation. Should we wait for the government to bail us out of our predicament? I don’t think so. We can no longer remain a mere spectator to this. We must do whatever is in our power to help our fellow brethren while the government is doing its bid. Will we turn a blind eye to the sufferings of our people, or a deaf ear to their cries of the innocent and helpless children in hunger?

This is a conscience call to all Zomis, whether living in Lamka or London, from a government servant to a call centre executive to help their fellow Zomis in this time of need. It may be a small amount, the price of a bottle of beer or a movie ticket, your contribution today can save the life of a fellow Zomi, dying of hunger, just for another day. You all know the saying, “Little drops of water, little drops of sand, make the mighty ocean and the beauteous land.”

For those of you who want to contribute, whatever be the amount, towards Mautaam Relief, a website http://www.mautaam.org/ has already been set up by like-minded individuals with a view to helping their fellow Zomis in their times of need. The recommended mode of contribution is by bank transfer to:

Account No.11343809077, State Bank of IndiaChurachandpur Branch - 6182

Operated by Shri H.PauchinlianDorcas Veng, New Lamka, Manipur.

For people living in and around Delhi donation in cash can be made to the following persons:
1) Shri T Kamzalian, NABARD (Cell: 9910982456)

2) Shri Kamkhenthang Guite, M/o DONER (Cell: 9868934337)

3) Shri Kamsuanthang, MHA (Cell: 9968270231)

4) Shri Haumuanlun Samte (Cell: 9891418402)

5) Shri N.T.Khankhup (Cell: 9958340949)

6) Shri L.T.Ngaihte, MEA (Cell: 9811211941)

Email: mautaam@googlegroups.com

Profile of (L) T.Gwite, IPS

THANGZAMANG @ T. Gwite MA IPS, 69

Born : February 7,1938 Monday 9 pm, Thanlon
Exp : September 15, 2007 Sat 5 pm at AIIMS, N.Delhi, heart attack;
buried at Lamkatung cemetery 17.9.2007 Mon
Father : Khamkhopau Guite d. 27.5.1959 Wedn 4 pm, Thanlon
Mother : Ningzaniang (Hangsing Tanu)
Married : Aichhung (Guite tanu) d/o Thangluai on 5.8.68 Mon, Imphal
Children : Son 1 daughters 2 Grands females 2: Chinlawmsang, Chhungthianmawi
Education
Cl. I- V- ME School, Thanlon 1949-53
VI- X- Churachand High School, Imphal 1954-58
IA- DM College, Imphal 1960
BA- St. Edmund’s College, Shillong 1962
MA (Eng Lit)- Allahabab University 1966
Indian Police Services (IPS) 1973

Works

Teacher, Christian High School, Churachand Mission Comp 1963
Founder Member and Teacher, Churachandpur Model English School (later JN Model High School), Lamka 1963
Lecturer, CCPur College, Lamka 1966-67
Lecturer, DM College, Imphal 1968-73
Assistant Superintendent of Police, Aligarh, UP 1975-76
Superintendent of Police (SP), Agra 1977-81
Asst Director (Intelligent Bureau, IB), Delhi, Kohima, Imphal 1982-90
Deputy Director of IB, New Delhi 1990-97
Joint Director (IB, North East), Shillong 1997- 1.12.2001
Retired 31.12.2001 Mon
Chairman, Manipur Public Service Commission 1.3.2003-04
Awarded Indian Police Medal for Meritorious Services 1990
Abstract Paintings exhibited at Shillong 31.10.2001 Wed
Patron Member, SSPP Hq
Involved in installation of Bhaba Atomic Research Centre, Trombay; Hindustan Aeronautic Ltd, Bangalore;
Defence Research & Dev Org, Hyderabad; ONGC, Space Launching etc.
Moved to Mualveng, Lamka 1964; to Tribal Colony, Imphal 1968; to Paite Veng, Imphal 2002

Author

Buh Ka Duhlai (Translation, 1963)
Khoching Nu Khivui (2003)
Pitu Hoih Hindan Hoih (2005)
Our Thanlon Times (2007, in Press)

Brothers and sisters

Manzen, w/o Kamkhanthang Guite
Chingkhovung, w/o Dr V. Vungkhokam
Chinkhosiam, Inspector of Police (Rtd) h/o Zenngaihching (Tombing tanu)
Hangzagin SRO, h/o Rebecca Niangngaihchin (Valte tanu), Accountant/AG, Imphal

Sons and daughters

Mary Lawmngaihching, RBI Officer, Guwahati, w/o T. Mangminthang, IPS, Director, P & T NE Cirl
Florence Nianghoihlun, Management expert, Dallas, USA
Paukhanmung Gwite, SO/AG Office, Guwahati

Personality

Meticulous, honest, elegant, sartorial finesse, impressionistic painter, lover of color and design.

Went to Delhi with family members on 9.9.2007 enroute to Dallas, USA to depart from Delhi on 16.9.2007 flight to attend the marriage ceremony of their 2nd daughter. He felt uneasy in the chest at about 3 pm on 15.9.2007 at Delhi and was rushed to AIIMS where he was declared dead due to heart attack at 5 pm on the same day. His mortal remain was brought to Imphal on 16.9.2007, spent overnight at his residence at Paite Veng, Imphal and buried at Lamkatung Cemetry on Monday, 17.9.2007 .

What Freedom Means to Zomis

For the villager doing jhum cultivation, freedom is going to his field everydaywwithout the fear of tripping over landmines

For parents, freedom is the absence of fear of their daughters being raped or their sons being beaten up or shot at by “unidentified elements”.

For the shopkeeper and vegetable vendor, freedom is the ability to ply his trade without the fear of bandhs wreaking havoc on their business

For the outstation student, freedom is enjoying his holidays without bandhs shortening his already too short holiday

For the common man, freedom is roaming the streets of Lamka without the fear of being caught in the midst of gunshots

For the office goer, freedom is going to office without fear of being mugged and threatened

For a government official, freedom is discharging his duties without undue disturbance from unscrupulous elements

For the rich, freedom is enjoying his riches without the fear of being kidnapped for ransom money

For a student appearing in HSLC exams freedom is the ability to write whatever he has crammed up without the fear of answer papers being insufficient!

Any more inputs from readers will be welcome.

Chak De

Yeah I know I am late. And this ain't a review of the movie either. You know I ain't a Bollywood fan. In fact, the only Hindi movies I truly enjoyed were the Munnabhai series 'Munnabha MBBS' and 'Lage Raho Munnabhai'. The plot of the movie, you probably already know about it.

As I said, I haven't watched the movie 'Chak De India' but when I heard that there were two North-eastern girls in the movie, my curiosity get the better of me. No, no I haven't gone to watch the movie after that, but I started 'googling' 'Mizo girl in Chak De' and 'Manipur girl in Chak De' and I just want to share what I found out as a result.

The Girls:

Chonchon Zimik, 24

Manipur

On field: Molly

Position: Left Half (back)

Jersey No. 6

How I was picked: A fashion design student from IITC, Pune, Zimik’s friend recommended her to a casting agent from Yashraj Films. ‘‘I was called for an audition. It was a hilarious experience because I was asked to say some fighting dialogues in Hindi. I don't speak Hindi well so the entire effect was rather comic. But I guess it worked.

The best and the worst: I trained for three months and I am happy that I can now play our national sport. Waking up at 4:30 am everyday for three months was the tough bit!SRK moment: I’m clumsy and I was always getting into a spot. Shah Rukh always laughed at that and I can never forget that smile and that twinkle in his eye when he would look at me.

Next move: Post film, I was slightly confused. But I’ll be realistic, I am not exactly what Bollywood is looking for. I work in Mumbai in a fashion designing workshop and will stick to fashion designing. But if there is a good role in a film that deals with the North-East or my state, then I am game for it.

Chak de means: Victory!

Lalhming Kimi, 20

Mizoram

On field: Mary

Position: Defender

How I was picked: A goalkeeper in her state team, her game and a great voice got her the role.

The best and the worst: Hockey came easy to her.

Next Move: Kimi is all set to graduate from player to coach—she’s pursuing a diploma in hockey coaching from Netaji Subhash National Institute of Sports, Patiala

The talented hockey duo from the North East. Their school books taught them that they are Indians but Indians taught them otherwise. The only reason they play for the National team is that it is the only National team they can play for. They would love to belong but not to the team that calls them 'foreign', and definitely not to the people that call them 'loose'. So they stick together and play. For the love of the game and the honour of their people.

Kudos to the girls. We are really proud of you.

And maybe I will watch the movie now, after all!

Where the mind is without fear

The other day dad called me from home (Lamka) and said that there was a bomb blast the night before near Churachandpur police station leaving one person dead and two injured. I was like well that's nothing new, it happens all the time out there. There was not even a feeling of surprise or shock within me. Was it because I was still asleep when I heard the news and my mind was not clear at the time? I don't think so. News of gunshots, murders, kidnappings, etc doesn't shock anyone anymore. People have accepted these things as a part of life. In fact, they are even more surprised when a day goes by without any news of gunshots, murders or kidnappings.

A decade or so ago, Lamka was known as a peaceful town-where different communities live in peace and harmony. But then things take a different turn. The first time I heard a gunshot was when I was still a little kid. I don't remember the exact year but it was in the early 1990s. In the middle of the night I was awoken by loud gunshots. I was scared out of my wits and I was like "When will those bullets hit me and rip my body apart?" The gunshots sounded as if fired right in front of our house. I remember praying frantically for divine intervention. The next morning we heard that the shootings took place at Saikot, on the outskirts of Lamka town. As I grew older and Lamka became a hotbed of terrorism, I became less and less bothered by these things. I have become less sensitive. In fact, during the Kuki-Zomi ethnic clashes in the late 1990s gunshots can be heard every now and then. Barely a day pass by without the sound of gunshots or the sight of a village burnt down. During those days, we used to joke with friends "Last night there was no gunshot so I couldn't sleep well". Well, every Lamkan have become insensitised. Is it because we have less compassion towards our fellow beings? Are we less humane? I think not. It is just that we have accepted these things as a way of life and that is what Lamka has become. In fact, I have heard many people saying, "There is no killing, gunshot, murder or kidnapping in today's newspaper, it is not worth reading". Is this what we have become? We don't even want to read the paper if there was no news of killings, gunshots, kidnappings or the like. Even after 60 years of independence we, the Zomis are still far, far away from Rabindranath Tagore's ideal of freedom. Sigh! What curse have befallen my land and my people. Let me conclude with Rabindranath Tagore's famous poem

Where The Mind is Without Fear

WHERE the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

-Rabindranath Tagore

Hello again

Seems like aeons ago that this blog was updated. Since then many things have happened in my life, for better or worse. Life has been hectic. The apprehension and excitement of joining a new job. Adjusting to new life (read job),et al. The change in setting, it seems, takes a heavy toll on my enthusiam for blogging compounded by the fact that there was no internet connection in my office computer. The computer guys have been informed several times, both over the phone and in writing. But till date there was no success on our part. At last one is resigned to the fact that this is how things work here. And you comforted yourself and learnt to take things easy. As soon as the computer guys come and do the needful, blogging will be resumed with renewed vigour. Apart from that, everything is working just fine here. It takes time to adjust to a new setting. But I am catching up on the nature of the work here. And I am really lucky that my boss is a very good and caring officer. I'll sign off now. Do check in for updates occassionally.

Goodbye KSP

After slogging my ass off for about a year and a half in this company, I finally handed in my resignation on 4th May, 2007 to move towards "greener pastures".

My journey in this company has been marked by ups and downs. There have been times when I feel used and became really frustrated and times when I really love working for this company. Anyway these are parts of life. What I like about this company is the dress code. You can wear jeans and T-shirt to the office Mondays to Fridays (I have always been a T-shirt and jeans person). Also there are no night shifts unlike most of the other BPO companies.

I had been through the usual grind of office politics (there is as much politics in private companies as in the government sector), tiffs with work colleagues, ego clashes, among others. And there were some really caring and helpful colleagues who stood by me through all the bad times.

I have learnt many things while working for this company and I am grateful to the company for that. I am especially indebted to Sunaina, our assistant team leader. She has been my mentor and benefactor. She was the one who guided when I first joined the company and stood by me at all times. She was the one I turned to whenever I have difficulties regardig my work and she was ever ready to help me. Thank you Sunaina and my best wishes to the company and all my work colleagues there.

How to Placate an Angry Naga: Finding One's Feet in the IAS

Numerous books have been written about the lives and experiences of management gurus and corporate honchos. But books on the lives of IAS officers are a rarity.

Written by Leena Nandan and Jiwesh Nandan, both career bureaucrats with a lot of experiences to their credit, the book gives an insight into the lives of IAS officers and the challenges and responsibilties that they have to go through in the course of their careers.

What does it feel like to be part of an elite service, usually referred to as the steel frame of India? What goes on in the lives and careers of this so called prestigious service? The book explores these questions in some detail.

The training they had to undergo at the Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration in Mussorie where they are taught the nuances of being a bureaucrat and to inculcate Officer-Like-Qualities (OLQ). That every morning, at half past six, irrespective of the season, they had to go for PT, followed by half an hour of jogging is perhaps a fact known only to a few of us.

From their first posting as Sub-divisional Magistrate (SDM) to the higher rungs of the career ladder the book recounts the experiences of the authors and other officers in a sometimes humorous and sometimes sombre tone. The book delves into the relationship between the District Magistrate and the SP (Superintendent of Police) of a district, between a junior and a senior official, between an officer and a politician and between an officer and the media.

If you are interested in knowing what really goes on in the lives of our IAS officers, then this is the book you are looking for. It is priced at Rs 195 and available at all leading bookstores.

Reminiscences of school life-I

The Place: St Paul’s Institute, New Lamka, Manipur
The Time: July 1993

It was the summer of 1993, just after the summer holidays. I thought it would be just another Physics class, oblivious of how life could spring surprises at you. I was in my VIth standard when this incident happened.

We greeted our Physics teacher, “Good morning sir”, as usual. Before taking class, he distributed our half-yearly examination answer sheets. But mine was not there so I stood up and said, "Excuse me sir, I didn’t get my paper”. To this he replied, “If your paper wasn’t there then you must be absent.” I know for a fact that I was clearly not absent and sat for the paper. So I retorted back, “Sir I wasn’t absent, I sat for the paper. You can check the attendance sheet and my friend here can vouch that I wasn’t absent”, gesturing towards my friend sitting next to me. My friend vouched for my presence. But our teacher was adamant. He insisted that as my paper wasn’t there that means I didn’t sit for the paper. End of discussion. At this a feeling of rage overtook me and I blurted out. “You didn’t check the papers yourself and let your tuition students check them. So my paper might have got lost in the process.” On hearing this he became very angry and started beating me, adding fuel to the fire raging within me. So I said, “You beat me for no fault of mine. I will go to the principal and complain about your misconduct.” He retorted, “Yeah you can go right now”, probably thinking that I would not have the guts to go to the principal.

It so happened that this teacher of ours conducted home tuitions and he let his tuition students check our papers. I came to know of this because one of our classmates’ elder sister took tuition from this teacher and she was the one who checked our papers. So the whole class came to know of our marks (with the exception of me) even before he distributed our papers. At that time I comforted myself that maybe my paper was checked by another person and so my marks were missing from the list.

Coming back to the incident that day, I went to the principal and told him about the incident at class that day-how I was beaten by my teacher for no fault of mine and how our answer sheets were checked by persons other than our teacher. At first the principal did not believe my words but when I spoke out that facts and when he checked the attendance sheet he found out that I was present and indeed I was speaking the truth. He assured me that he would speak to the teacher and told me not to worry.

The next day I was called to the principal’s room. He told me that I had secured 94% in the Physics paper and congratulated me. He said that he had a talk with our teacher and it seemed that he (the Principal ) had given him a good scolding.

After that day, our teacher was never his former self again. Before, he was a cheerful guy who used to crack jokes and laugh a lot. He was a jovial sort of guy. But from that day onwards he was always gloomy and rarely interacted with other teachers. He quitted after a month or so.

I had a feeling that he quitted because of that incident with me. And I sometimes felt uneasy thinking that I was responsible for his quitting his job. But I really didn’t blame myself. Because he was a teacher and he was paid not only to teach but to check our papers. Letting others check our answer sheets was clearly a dereliction of duty on his part which needs to be exposed. Nobody even complained when they clearly know that he wasn’t doing his job but he started beating me for no fault of mine. And that proved to be his nemesis.

Teachers are the builders of the nation and they should serve as examples to the students. It is because of teachers like him who shirk their duty and wanted only personal gains that the conditions of our schools, be it government or private, are so deplorable.

My Love

My affair with her began a few years ago

The first time I came to Delhi in 2000

I had heard so much about her through word of mouth

But I have never met her before

And then a friend introduced me to her

The first time I met her, I was shy and hesitant

Then gradually I fell for her charms and her beauty

She is so knowledeable and always willing to share her knowledge with me

She tells me about almost everything that I want to know

She sings for me and cracks jokes when I am upset

I never feel bored or lonely when I am with her

Now I am completely enamoured by her

And I am head over heels in love with her

Rarely a day would pass by that I am not near her

And she has become part and parcel of my life

Her name is ........THE INTERNET!!!

Lamka-Then and Now (A Reflection)

Land of peace

That had once been the epithet used to describe my native place – Lamka – otherwise officially known as Churachandpur. I refuse to call it Churachandpur as it is a name imposed on my beloved Lamka by the powers that be against wishes of the local people. Lamka – the place where I grew up and which gives me so many memories – some sad and some sweet. Bittersweet may be the appropriate word here. The place that once was the only peaceful district in the otherwise trouble-torn Manipur – an oasis in the desert. Where different communities lived in peace and harmony.

The older generation would always look back in nostalgia of the days gone by - when Lamka was an oasis of peace in the trouble-torn desert of Manipur. “Those were the days…” is the usual refrain of a lot of people. The 1980s and the early 1990s were indeed the golden era of Lamka. I was a young teenager in the early 1990s and I fondly remember roaming the streets of Lamka along with friends without fear and without any care or worry. To paraphrase Rabindranath Tagore it was indeed a place “where the mind is without fear”. We would roam with friends along Tedim Road or even to Tuibuang at night. We would shout at the top of our voices singing love songs and what not! We had no cares or worries and we were very content with our lives. No gunshots, no murders or senseless killings. How I cherish those memories!

But since the mid-1990s winds of change have swept across Lamka. Sadly a change for the worse. It started with kidnappings and demands for ransom money and these eventually led to senseless and mindless killings. The culmination of all these was the Kuki-Zomi ethnic conflict which resulted in the death and destruction of many lives and property on either side. Eventually peace accord was signed and the ethnic conflict came to an end.

But sadly enough Lamka has still not returned to normalcy and is still not the place it once was. Killings and gunshots have become the order of the day. And it seems like all these troubles are here to stay, for a long, long time…

Sidney Seldon is no more

Sidney, the master storyteller and the king of suspense died at 89 years of age. He died of complications from pneumonia at Eisenhower Medical Centre in Rancho Mirage.

I have been an ardent fan of Sheldon and have read almost all of his novels. "Tell Me Your Dreams" is his best work from my point of view. Other notable novels include "The Other Side of Midnight", "Master of the Game" etc.

"I try to write my books so the reader can't put them down," he explained in a 1982 interview. "I try to construct them so when the reader gets to the end of a chapter, he or she has to read just one more chapter. It's the technique of the old Saturday afternoon serial: leave the guy hanging on the edge of the cliff at the end of the chapter."

Sheldon says his writing pads and pens were his most treasured posssessions. Once when a fire broke out in the Los Angeles canyon in which they were living, police told them to evacuate. Out of the many valuables they had he took only his yellow pads and pens knowing they would be holed up in a hotel somewhere for days, and couldn't imagine not being able to write.

He says "I will not write about anyplace in the world unless I've been there to personally research it. I always spend time exploring the customs and attitudes of the countries I'm using for locations, and interviewing the people who live there. I've visited over 90 countries thus far. It's my custom to hire a driver to give me a tour of whatever city or town I am in. One night, on a lonely mountain road in Switzerland, I asked my driver where a good place might be to dump a body. I'll never forget the look on his face!"

That's Sheldon for you. A truly great writer. We will miss you Mr Sheldon. But your books will remain with us forever.

Show Racism the Red Card

Shilpa Shetty became the victim of racial abuse on the sets of Celebrity Big Brother. And she became the symbol of the global war against racism. We sympathise with her.

Indians cry foul against this abuse and condemnations have poured in from all quarters. But before pointing our fingers at others, let us first look at our own backyard. Racism has been going on for a long time before our very own eyes. Whether or not we want to admit it is another matter altogether.

What Shilpa Shetty went through on the sets of Celebrity Big Brother is what many Indians go through everyday in their own country. Especially people from the northeastern part of India.

Northeasterners are discriminated against in every walk of life and everywhere they are. Be it in the metros or other cities and towns in mainland India: the person who (intentionally) mistook you to be from a certain Himalayan country and call you names. The autorickshaw wallah who is out there to fleece you and increases the fare the moment he sees your face. The neighbourhood shopkeeper who attends to you later even if you had come before the other fellow. The landlord who eyes you suspiciously and asks you strange and uncomfortable questions when you go searching for a room. And your boss at the office who jumps at every opportunity to pull you down. All this because you happen to be born in a certain part of the country.

On the one hand we talk of national integrity, unity in diversity, One-India and what not. But on the other hand our actions smack of racism and alienation. If we want to accuse others of being racists, first we should stop being racists ourselves. Show racism the red card. Practice what you preach. After all, actions speak louder than words.

Who the hell do I think I am

Most of you will be wondering who the hell is this blogger? Well I am still figuring that out myself.

As far as my biography is concerned I am still working on that. Anyway, my official bio goes something like this: I was born in a small hamlet in Lamka/ Churachandpur District of Manipur. And I was educated , if you want to call it that, in private schools in Lamka. I graduated from Delhi University with a degree in political science which qualifies me to whatever it is that I do now.

Since a very young age, I have always been interested in books, magazines and newspapers-especially novels. I have always had the secret ambition/dream to be a great writer . For years, I did little about this wish except moan and groan and feel envious of great writers and novelists. And for years, I wrote in my head, too afraid to expose my thoughts on paper. Now I am slowly walking my way up to some real and serious writing. This blog is an attempt at trying my hand in writing and expressing my thoughts and feelings about something on anything that I am interested in.

So, that’s it. I have gone on way too long so I’ll just stop now.

Do fell free to leave your comments and do check in occasionally for further updates.

Snapshots From Hell-Peter Robinson

Finished reading “Snapshots From Hell: The Making of an MBA” by Peter Robinson which I had borrowed from a friend of mine who is an MBA aspirant. Well, in the first place I am not an MBA nor do I aspire to become one. I read this book out of sheer curiosity-wanting to know what life is like in a B-school. And I do not regret reading this book.

The book is about the author’s life as a first-year MBA student at the prestigious Stanford University. It chronicles the difficulties and challenges he faces there as a “poet” (a term referring to those who are not good in Maths). This book is a must-read for all MBA aspirants as it gives an insight into what B-school is like.

Reading this book reminds of my graduation years. I, at one point in my life, had contemplated seriously preparing myself for MBA entrance exams. I had even appeared for FMS MBA (MS) entrace test when this course was first started by FMS. But I had not prepared well for the test and had not got through the test. Looking back in retrospect I am not really disappointed that I had not passed the test becuase I do not think this is my passion. MBA is not for me. The rigours of pursuing the course and the long hours MBAs put in when they are working just does not attract me. No matter how much money they are earning. After all, money is not everything in life.

And also I would really like to read Scott Turrow’s One L, the book which is the inspiration behind this book “Snapshots From Hell.” It is about life as a first year student at the famed Harvard Law School.

Elections-Ends or Means

This article has been published on Lamka Post, www.zogam.com, www.zogamonline.com, www.e-pao.net and www.youthejournalist.com

With Manipur going to the polls in February, every other day newspapers carry reports of the MLAs visiting/touring their constituencies and handing out goodies to the populace. Unfortunately the people lapping them up in cheerful glee. And fall for these cheap election gimmicks of the sly politicians. This is nothing new in Manipur especially in the hills where politicians are exploiting the innocent and gullible masses to the hilt.

Elections are really hard times for the people and serve little or no purpose in improving the plight of the people. It is a time when alliances are made and unmade, a time for making a quick buck, a time when your next-door neighbour becomes your enemy. It is a time when friendships are broken and trusts are betrayed. Booth capturing and poll riggings have become the norm. And underground organizations are known to openly support their own choice of candidates. And the whole process of elections has become a farce – a mockery of democracy.

Let us see in the context of Churachandpur. I was personally there at the time of the Assembly Election in 2000. And I have been to election campaigns of the two main contenders. What I have seen there is not an election campaign. It is pure character assisination. The candidates did, never once, outlined their policies and programmes (manifestoes) but just launched personal attacks on their rivals. This is just ridiculous. And the crowed seems to enjoy these to the hilt. There were loud cheers and clapping of hands for the all the personal attacks that the candidates indulged in. The situation may not be so different this time round.

The public is no better. I have seen some cases of sheer madness – there was a case where one family did not allow its neighbours to draw water from their well because the neighbours were supporting the rival party and neighbours were not even on talking terms. I do not blame the candidates for these trivial things. It is their supporters who in moments of madness resorted to such foolish practices.

Elections have become an end in itself and not the means to an end. Politicians are out to exploit the people and the people are making every opportunity to grab a few thousand bucks from the politicians. It is a vicious cycle from which there seems to be no escape in the near future.
It is time that we moved on. We have been through enough of this - petty politics, quick bucks and narrow-mindedness. Let us try to expand our horizons and look at the big picture. Elections are times to frame policies and programs. A time to think of our future and work towards the larger good of the society. Elections should be the means to an end and not an end in itself. The end being good governance, development, growth, empowerment and general well being of the public at large and not only a section of the populace.

How long are we going to fall for the cheap political gimmicks of our politicians? When are we going to let them face the music? How long will we be content with just a few thousand bucks at the time of elections? When will we all work together for the betterment of our society and not just run around for personal gains? As we go to the polls once again, let these questions be in the minds of all and let us strive to work together for our future – a more prosperous and developed society. Lest we face the consequences.