#Sermon #Khlam #KyrsoiborPyrtuh
“Kawei kaba phalang lyngba ka jingim u Jisu Khrist ka dei kane; “ka bor jong ka jingtlot bad ka jingtlot jong ka bor”. Ha ka pyrthei, ka Bor ka dei ka pdeng jong ka jingim, la ka long ka synshar-ka bishar, ka khaii-pateng, ka niam, ka imlang sahlang bad kiwei de. Naduh hyndai, kawei ka Ri ka ialeh ban synshar halor kawei pat, ki Ri bakhraw bor ki pyntian jubor ia ka rukom pyrkhat bad rukom im jong ki ha kiwei pat. Ha kano kano ka Ri ka kynhun Jaidbynriew ba hehpaid ka leh meng, ka leh khraw bad kyrniom ia kiwei ki Jaidbynriew ba ritpaid. Kumjuh ruh ka kynhun niam ba heh paid ka leh donbor bad pynbor ia kiwei ban pdiang ia ka jingngeit bad ia ka niam ka rukom jong ka. Kawei ka dustur ne kolshor ka pynpaw ba ka dei kaba kham bha ne janai ban ia kawei pat. Ki hehpaid ki thep jubor ha ki ritpaid ia ka niam, ka rukom, ka riti dustur bad ki niad rong ym tang ia ka shynrong hynrei wat ia ka jabieng ruh kaba don hapoh ka shynrong. Nalor kine, mynta ha kane ka juk “Neo-Liberal” ka don sa ka sainpyrkhat ne kolshor kaba ban bein, ba pynduk bad leh beijot ia ki rangli juki, ia ki sem shilliang bad kup shilliang. Ka kolshor kaba pynkha ia ka kharai ha ka ioh ka kot bad ka kolshor kaba pynkhie im biang ia ka juk khaii mraw ia ki para briew.”
#Sermon #Khlam #KyrsoiborPyrtuh
Mynta ka sngi ngin pule ia ka jingrwai Salm ba Sawphew (40) bad ka Khasi- CL Version ka pyndonkam da kine ki kyntien ha ka Salm 40:3, “U hikai ia nga ban rwai ia ka jingrwai bathymmai”, katba ha ka Khasi OV (Reference) pat la pyndonkam da ki kyntien, “Bad U la buh ia ka jingrwai bathymmai ha ka shyntur jong nga”. Niuma, ngin ym iatai hangne ia ka rukom pynkylla ktien, hynrei ngin pule ia kane ka jingrwai Salm bad pyndei ia ka bad ka por ba ngi im.
Kabiranjan Saikia, popularly known as Swadhinata Phukan who was the Assistant Publicity Secretary of the United Liberation Front of Assam (ULFA). Although Swadhinata Phukan was a member of the civil wing of the banned outfit, he was gunned down in a fake encounter by the state police on the night of 26 May 2000 at Garumara in the Jorhat district of Assam. He was 26 at that time. These two poems by Kabiranjan Saikia – “Aartonador Enixa” [“A Night of Screams”], written on 29 February 1992 and “Xamprotik” [“Nowadays”], written on 18 February 1993 – are sourced from an anthology of his poems, Moi Kabiranjan Uttopto Hobo Khuja Eta Kobitar Naam [I Am Kabiranjan, the Name of a Poem Wanting to Erupt], published by Aank-Baank in 2011.
It is the season for bambooshoot in Northeast India. Hundreds of women venture into the forests during these months to forage for the tender shoots. Some are consumed fresh, and a large quantity are fermented and preserved. As condiments, fermented bambooshoot (dried or wet) are generously added to meat, fish, and vegetables.
Ka kitab u Hosia ka long kaba sngewtynnad bad ba bang ban pule bad ka jingpyrkhat jong u Hosia shaphang u Blei ka iasnoh bad ka jingim shimet jong u bad ka kyrsoi na kaei kaba ma u hi u mad bad iashem ha ka jingim, kata ka jingiadei jong U bad ka Gomer. Katkum ka Bible u Hosia u dei u tnga jong ka Gomer bad ki don lai ngut ki khun. U Bishop Spong u ong,don ar tylli ki jingbatai shaphang ka jingiapoikha hapdeng u Hosia bad ka Gomer. Kawei ka long, ba u Hosia u shongkurim ia ka nuti bad kawei pat ka long ba kham hadien ka Gomer ka kylla nuti bad ka shah die mraw. Hynrei kine kim dei ki khana ha ka kitab u Hosia bad ka kitab U Hosia ka kren shaphang ka Jingieid. Kane harum ka dei ka khana kaba nga la ring bad pynwan dur na ka jingthoh u John Shelby Spong shaphang ka jingiadei u Hosia bad ka Gomer.
Ka khlam ka la pynjulor bad ki samla kynthei, shynrang bad kiwei pat, ki shaiong bad sheptieng ban pyrkhat ia ka jingpynjot jong ka. Ha kajuh ka por kane kam pat dei kaba kut jong ka jingim bad barabor ka jingshai ka ap ha ba kut ka lynti iaid ba dum tliw tliw. Ha ka almanac jong ka Balang Presbyterian kane ka dei ka taiew jong ki samla bad kane ka sermon ka mih na ka jingiakren-iatai bad ki katto katne ngut ki samla kiba phohsniew bad saindur ia ka lawei.
KA ÏING KHOM IEW HA BARIK
Da lah kyntiew
yn sa ieng kum u mot bah
ka ing tep ba ramhah kynsha
ba mih tyrpeng ba pyiar
ban kajoh ban dem sdien da jingsngewrain
ha ki biar, ki dak thoh kin khih kyrbeit
sha ki kyrteng jong ki paidbah…
A SHOPPING MALL IN BARIK
When it rises
it will stand like a large tomb
A monstrous mausoleum
with shoulders stretched
long enough to hang in shame
on its walls, alphabets will assemble
into the names of the people…
The Whole Family’ is a photo project that portrays the emotional longing of the family members of the missing. It is an artistic intervention in support of them as they continually ask the authorities about the whereabouts of the enforced disappeared people during the 10 years long People’s War in Nepal.
It is a reenactment to create a complete family photo that portrays the vacuum created by the loss of the family member. This photo project focuses on the emotional loss and shows the current socio-economic situation of the remaining family members.
Kaei ka Eksodos? Ki riewstad Bible ki ong, ka wei ka dei ka jinglaitim ne jinglaitluid jong ki mraw Hebru na Ijipt bad ka jingiaid lyngba ka Duriaw Basaw. Ka ba ar pat, ka dei ka jingmih ne jingphet noh ki mraw Hebru na Ijipt hadien ka jingiap jong ki khun nyngkong shynrang. Ki don ruh ki riewstad kiba ong ba kane ka kynhun ki mraw kam dei tang ki Hebru hynrei ka kynthup ruh ia kiwei de ki Jaidbynriew kiba long mraw ha Ijipt.
The construction of popular narratives about a place is sometimes driven by an overuse of popular tropes, which delegitimises and silences the local community’s own interpretations of their history and culture. A Google search on ‘Mayong’ opens results such as ‘India’s Black Magic Capital’, ‘Land of Black Magic’, and so on, where the words ‘black’, ‘occult’, and ‘spooky’ take a connotative precedence. The image search provides a confusing plethora of images ranging from portraits of Naga sadhus smeared in bibhuti (holy ash), neo-Vaishnavite Assamese monks, Amazonian tribes and shamans passed off as practitioners of ‘black magic’ in Mayong. There is a particularly odd image of a collection of globes, a skeleton, and an assortment of objects, ostensibly hosted by the ‘Mayong Central Museum and Emporium of Black Magic and Witchcraft’. The image is definitely not from any museum in Mayong and the words “Black Magic” and “Witchcraft” were never a part of any museum title in Assam. The frontier Kamrupa-Pragjyotishpur has always been associated with magic and myths around magical practices since ancient times, because of the Śākta cult of the Kamakhya temple, and alleged instances of blood sacrifices and associated Tantric practices. This exoticization of Mayong in popular imagery, therefore, has deep historical roots.
On 5th August 2020 the Bhartiya Janta Party lived up to its promise of ‘Mandir Vahin Banega’ as India’s Prime Minister laid the foundation stone of a temple at the place of a historical mosque demolished by the same party in 1992 in Ayodhya. While preparations of a grand temple in Ayodhya are on, it must be remembered that just a couple of years back in 2017, the Sardar Sarovar dam was inaugurated by the same Prime Minister with great fanfare in which large number of religious places of the Adivasis, Hindus, Jains and Muslims were drowned in the dam waters permanently.
When the world was young and when all the animals spoke the language of mankind, the peacock, U Klew, was but an ordinary grey-feathered bird without any pretensions to beauty. But, even in those days, he was much given to pride and vanity, and strutted about with all the majesty of royalty, just because his tuft was more erect than the tuft of other birds and because his tail was longer and was carried with more grace than the tails of any of his companions.
Ka jingwan arsien u Jisu Khrist watla ka dei ka mat kaba iakren tang hapoh ka jylli Khristan pynban ki don ki khep ba ka ktah ia ka imlang-sahlang, ia ka jingiadei shi iing shi sem ne para marjan ne para shnong bad ka wanrah ia ka jingpait iing bad pait Balang. Katkum ka Bible, ha ki sngi kiba nyngkong jong ka Balang Khristan ki bangeit ha u Jisu ki ap khmih lynti ba kata ka iia bad ka jingwan arsien kan jia noh ha ka pateng jong ki hi.
On August 9, 2020 my colleague, friend and mentor Prof. Ilina Sen passed away in Kolkata, in the presence of her partner Dr. Binayak Sen and their two daughters, Pranhita and Aparajita. She was 69 years old and in the space of the number of years that she was with us, Ilina taught us the value of compassion, courage and determination as weapons of resistance in the face of adversity. I had first heard of her when I first got involved in the human rights movement in the 1990s. She and Binayak had settled in Chattisgarh, where the trade union movement led by Chattisgarh Mukti Morcha had brought together a radical, grassroots platform that included indigenous rights activists, mine workers, women’s rights advocates and others marginalised groups.
Ka Ri India ka la kynjoh 73 (hynniewphew lai) snem ka rta naduh ba la ioh ia ka jinglaitluid na ka Sorkar Bilat. Ngi niewkor shikatdei ia kane ka jinglaitluid bad ha kajuh ka por pat ngi syier bad artatien iohba ha kane ka juk ka jinglaitluid ka dei tang ka pushara ia ka shynrong maw jingtep? Kan sah kynmaw ruh ba ngi rakhe ia ka Sngi Laitluid hapdeng ka khlam bad ka dei ka jingkit kaba khia tam ban khyllie pat ia ka Ri na ka jingpynjot jong ka khlam.
If instead of being hanged by the neck
you’re thrown inside
for not giving up hope
in the world, your country, your people,
if you do ten or fifteen years
apart from the time you have left,
you won’t say,
“Better I had swung from the end of a rope
like a flag” —
You’ll put your foot down and live.
It may not be a pleasure exactly,
but it’s your solemn duty
to live one more day
to spite the enemy.
Ka snem 2020 ruh ka dei ka ‘nemsniew namar ka khlam corona bad sa katno tylli ki snem kin nangsniew nangne shakhmat? Tang mar ia sdang ban pur ka khlam ha ka Jylla, ngi la pyrkhat beit tang ia ka jingduh bad jingiap. Mano ban iap? La sngew ngiew shisha, la kum kato ka por ba jia ka khlam ha Nongkyrdan hyndai kaba i bah S.J Duncan i pynpaw kumne, “Jar jar! Wow! la kynjah ka shnong ka thaw. Ka shnong nongiap ki ong.La tieng ki briew. Balei ka jia kumne?..ki dwar, thliew iing ki ang, ki sah rynghang Mano pat ban khyrdep? Mano ban khang…?
In sad times one does not write poems
but does whole lot of other things
from cracking jokes to gulping poison
but one does not write poems
Faizabad District Judge KM Pandey made the decision to open the gates of the Babri, back in February of 1986, assuring everybody that heavens will not fall if the locks are removed. In his autobiography, he mentions that his decision was validated by a black monkey, who sat holding the flag post on the roof of the court all day long, and despite offerings of groundnuts and fruits from thousands of people of Faizabad and Ayodhya, refused to accept any. The judge spots the black monkey later in the verandah of his bungalow, and salutes him, taking him to be some divine power.
Earth’s been around the Sun. Kashmir, where it was, in darkness
While tyrants spin untruths, enact laws in darkness
With or without the political intention of its makers, history itself has placed a mountain of representational and creative responsibility on Axone. Immediately after its…
I forgot to sanitise my hand because love taught me to reach out without thinking twice. My mask came off because reflex taught me to…
Sa kawei ka kambah kaba ma ngi ki nongshong shnong ngi dei ban pynjia long hadien ba la shem ia ki dawai, ki lad jingsumar bad ki lad jingiada. Kata ka kambah ka long kane, ba baroh ki nongshong shnong salonsar ki dei ban ioh ia kita ki dawai, ki lad jingsumar bad ki lad jingiada khlem da pyniapher kyrdan ne jaitbynriew bad dei ban pynioh ia ki ha ka dor kaba jem bad ba biang briew, kaba ki rangli ki juki bad ki nongbylla sngi ki kotbor. Nalor nangta ngi dei ruh ban pynthymmai bad pynim pat ia ka koit ka khiah bad ka sumar pang (Health Care) ha baroh ki shnong ha ka Jylla.
The opposition to the government’s intention to make Hindi mandatory in schools would have been an ideal moment for India to introspect on what it means to be such a language-rich country. It would have been an opportunity to take stock of the languages we have and those that are threatened, of those that require support in terms of documentation before they disappear, and how to honestly – and not just on paper – promote education in mother tongues. But none of this happened. The moment the “Hindi” issue cropped up, it became a political stand-off, instead of leading to a fruitful debate about what languages and linguistic diversity indicate about our sub-continent, and how such richness can be conserved. And so, once again the issue has been brushed under the carpet, and our ever-present notion of the vote-bank and other populist ideals have taken precedence. The present calm has lulled us to believe that nothing is the matter. The storm of linguistic decline is yet to unfold.
#Poetry #Axomiya #RashmirekhaBorah
“Without any of us beholding
A forest is walking alongside the multitude heading home in throngs
Without any of us knowing
The blood oozing from their torn toe nails keeps marking the path”
I’ve often been invited to strange places
To keep in company with strange people.
Or, it may be truer to say I am the strange one in all that
I am the unknown usually among the known faces
As we all sit there talking poetry
First always is the introduction
And some, though already known,
For fear we may miss out on any detail
Start shooting off long lists of books and awards
And important journals-domestic and foreign
I always dreaded my turn…
Mynta kumne ngi don hapdeng ka khlam bad ka khlam ka la pynjot bad pynjulor ia ka jingim. Kumta ka jingkhot ia ngi ka long ym tang ba ngin ia duwai lang, hynrei ban iakhun, ban iaksaid bad iatreilang para shnong para thaw, para kher para mer bad ruh u Blei un iatreilang bad ngi ba na kane ka khlam kan mih ka pyrthei-mariang kaba thymmai- ka pyrthei kaba shngain bad kaba khiah krat ; ka pyrthei kaba dap kyrhai, ka pyrthei kaba ia ieid, ia niewkor bad ia burom kylliang iwei ia iwei pat bad kan mih ruh ka imlang sahlang ka bym lah shilliang bad ka bym leh shilliang khmat bad kaba ialong mar ryngkat ha khmat u Blei ha khmat u briew.
U Blei un kyrkhu ia phi baroh
July 17 2020
Professor G.N. Saibaba
Nagpur Central jail
I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this is me, Arundhati writing to you and not Anjum. You wrote to her three years ago and she most certainly owes you a reply. But what can I say—her sense of time is entirely different from yours and mine, leave alone the speedy world of Whatsapp and Twitter. She thinks nothing of taking three years to reply to a letter (or not)…
I can’t remember the first time I felt excluded. I can’t remember ever feeling excluded. Maybe because for certain people, being excluded is a normative state of mind. In any case, I never looked at it as an undesirable way of being. I loved the fact that the seas and the mountains merged within me, that I could feel at home in totally diverse geographical and cultural spaces, or that I could once speak 6 different languages before I even turned ten. Years later, lovers would describe me in the exact same way: as this exotic, improbable creature, who could be so many different things at once. I had a yearning for extremely divergent things that could never exist in the same place: for instance, I wanted to walk directly from the surging, mildly chaotic seas of Chennai to the Chinar trees of my childhood, yawning in the horizons while I gasped as a baby. I craved for vadais and chutney while dawdling at a weekly bazaar in Bombay, but hunted a million markets in Chennai for just one pair of jootis.
In these series of photographs, Akash Basumatari, a film-maker, and photographer based out of Assam captures this lived reality of the people in Matia and Simlitola areas of the Goalpara district.
In the last few days, the news and debate concerning the dog meat ban in Nagaland has been spreading like an oil-spill, contaminating conversations and diluting dispassionate and rational debate – stirring both those in favour and against it. While a good deal has now been said, much more remains to be elucidated… In this piece, Roderick Wijunamai & Menokhono highlight two points. First, how dogs feature in Naga cosmology, lifeworld, and livelihoods. Second, they foreground how the dog meat ban understate the existing constitutional provision in place for tribes in India, and the Nagas in particularly. They show how the recent dog meat ban has been an outright disregard to both.
The pandemic has opened up a whole new, yet familiar backdrop of self speculation through my lens. The images chronicle the mundane setting around my own domestic space, featuring my family of six members and the choices I make to freeze moments for eternity. They have been created alongside many thoughts running through my restless mind during the lockdown appending my state of mind, my political stance, my privileges, my body image, my space, my relationships, my priorities, my future and how we would turn out after all this is over.
Translation and Commentary by Nabina Das Nabina Das is a poet and writer based in Hyderabad. Assamese poet Nilim Kumar recently published a poem Ekhon Asustha…
Tiktok has been the social media of choice for working-class self-expression in recent times.
Watch a selection and read about the politics of it all
Axone was a much awaited film- simply because it promised ‘to speak for the Northeast ‘-the mainstream after all has taken so long to look east and whenever it has chosen to ‘speak’ for us – it has always been distorted and misrepresented, steeped in stereotypes. Axone’s promise to speak of ‘lived realities’ of the people of the Northeast-in choosing Axone as the title and the theme of the movie- to engage with questions of racism through food politics- there really could not have been any better time than now to bring forth the harsh truth of racism experienced by people of the Eastern region. But all it did- and very problematically- was to cater to these crucial questions from a very privileged and elite position, almost similar to the stance of the mainland- lacking depth, ignorant and oblivious of the ‘lived realities’ that it seeks to represent. Interesting debates have already been forth from the Northeastern community it seeks to represent; my purpose therefore is to introspect on the representation of the Nepali character of Upasna Rai as ‘part of’ and yet different from the Northeast.
“Adults are not reading books.”
“Children are not reading books.”
These 2 lines one comes across frequently. These are, on most occasions, followed with gyan encouraging one to read. To read more. Most of this gyan also lays the blame – for fall in reading – entirely or almost entirely on technology. In other words, televisions and mobile phones are the reason for people going away from books and reading. Roald Dahl too famously written, “So please, oh please, we beg, we pray, go throw your TV set away, and in its place you can install a lovely bookshelf on the wall”.
Torrential rains, this monsoon like every other has worsened the flood situation in Assam. This year already around 1.1 million people have been affected in 23 districts and the fatalities due to flood this year has gone up to 24 and counting. While the state administration is doing its best to tackle the situation, locals of villages near the rivers are being moved to safer places as their villages are being inundated by flood waters. Soon the public cry will be about the ineffectual bureaucracy and aid programs on the ground as lakhs of rupees will be once again spent and pocketed.
māti is a short documentary film (22 minutes) that attempts to understand this annual cycle. This film is in Assamese and English (with subtitles in English) and remains institutionally unfunded, made in partnership with the local communities by the river.
I am a poet, of a continent inscribed with rivers and mountains,
The world is my song.
What does it take to build a nation? Hiren Gohain and Sanjib Baruah once had a prolonged debate on the stakes of nationalism during the Assam Movement in the 1980s. Professor Gohain, broadly skeptical of the Assam Movement, argued that it was a bourgeois reaction to the consolidation of communist organizing in the region. Professor Baruah, more sympathetic, suggested that it was a strategic mobilization responding to India’s continued treatment of Assam as a colony. Revisiting that debate, one is struck less by their disagreements— which were many and profound—but by the impossibility of that argument today. This is partly because of the intervening forty years, of course, especially the collapse of the organized Left, the rise (and betrayal) of ULFA, and the saffronization of nationalism, such that even imagining it could be an emancipatory vision seems ludicrous these days. It is also because, as both Professors Gohain and Baruah emphasize in their recent books, the rest of the country never grasped the sheer novelty of the Assam Movement. Most of us today remember the Assam Movement only insofar as it led to the Assam Accord, which we in turn blame for the NRC and the CAA. Read together, Professors Gohain and Baruah offer us an important corrective to that narrow and self-serving narrative, even as they highlight different aspects of the complex history and consequences of that moment in Indian history.
We make tiktok, memes,
dalgona coffee and chicken dry fry.
We sons of bitches are doing fine.
We write rain-poems, sing songs,
paint pictures and hold online Bihu;
curse the useless prime minister
at eight in the evening
and fuck at midnight and high noon.
We sons of bastards are doing fine.
Axone, an extreme comfort food, rarely has an in-between. You either love it or hate it. It seems the film Axone by Nicholas Kharkongor, has gone the same direction as well. Much criticism has been poured on it in terms of accuracy and how it has dealt with many important issues, especially to North-easterners, on racism and discrimination. With everything else going on in the world, perhaps the film seems weak to many in its stance on these issues in light of present social and political conflicts. Thus, it has been chewed down, digested and excreted with all the stench to put off anyone going near it.
I enjoyed Axone thoroughly. Both the food and the film.
I Janice Pariat I dei iwei na ki nongthoh iba la sdang paw ha ka jylli ki nongthoh kot ka Ri India. Ki khanatang kiba I la thoh bad lum thup ha ka kot kaba I la ai kyrteng Boats on Land (Ki Lieng Kynda ha Ryngkew) ki la pynioh ha I ia ka khusnam Yuva Puraskar na ka Sahitya Academy. Ki khana kiba don ha katei ka kot ki dei ki jingmutdur ia ka por bad hadien ka jingsynshar jong ki phareng bad ka Sorkar Bilat ia ka Ri Khasi Jaintia. Ia kane ka kot la pynkylla ruh sha ka ktien khasi da I Bah Sumar Sing Sawian.
Mynta ka dei sngi ba ka Ri Khasi Jaintia ka kynmaw burom ia u Thomas Jones u missionary Khristan ka Balang Presbyterian na Ri Wales uba la wan poi ha Sohra 179 snem mynshuwa. Kumta ngi wanrah sha phi ki nongpule ia kawei ka khana kaba iasnoh bad ka Shnong Pomreng,ka Shnong kaba u Thomas Jones u la phet rieh na ki tyrsim u Hary Englis uba la thmu sniew ban shim ia ka jingim u.
It has been eight years since my father departed from this world on 3rd May 2012. Gurucharan Murmu, who entered the hallowed IPS (Indian Police Service) in 1972, is the first ever Santal to serve the Union Civil Services. Being his daughter and having to see him suffer all his life for his integrity and for upholding an incorruptible moral universe has been an agonizing experience. While it was personal pain earlier, it is more of anger towards gross violation of social justice that triggers me these days. The persistence of the skilfully devised myth that the thirty four years of left front rule in West Bengal has somehow abolished caste based discrimination is due to the pervasive dominance of the forward caste Bengali bhadralok over political, social, economic and cultural domains and academic discourses. Dismissal, oppression, deprivation, injustice, contempt and most importantly stigma and trauma of humiliation and harassment, violation of dignity and human rights on account of caste disparity remain brutal everyday realities for adivasis in this state.
Axone, the film is being critically received and widely acclaimed for depicting the racial discriminations faced by the people from the Northeast in Indian metros, an aspect that has assumed a special significance due to a spike of racist attacks and discrimination against people form the region in different cities of India as the panic around COVID19 grows. Nicholas Kharkongor, the director of the movie, made this connection too in an interview to Outlook calling the movie has come in the right time, as “the idea was to be able to tell the story of Northeast people’s experience of living in a big city.”
Today (8th June 2020) is the second death anniversary of Sukracharjya Rabha (1977-2018), whom I lovingly called Sukra Da. He was my senior, my big brother. We both learned theatre from our Oja Kanhailal and Ima Sabitri. He was the founder-director of the theatre group Badungduppa Kalakendra, Rampur, an extended family of Kalakshetra Manipur. Under the guidance of late Heisnam Kanhailal, Sukracharjya Rabha started the theatre festival Under the Sal Tree in 2008 at his village Rampur. The first festival was jointly organized by Badungduppa Kalakendra and Kalakshetra Manipur, the theatre group founded by late Heisnam Kanhailal and Heisnam Sabitri.
Online education should be seen as a portentous messenger of things to come and not the message in itself. Even before the physical classroom and face to face academic interactions were deemed a viral hazard, the contemporary university system was already down with a high fever and looking for ways to cool off from their dependence on brick and mortar teaching.
All commemorations and commemorative projects are political in nature, and each represents the political visions of a community, which in most of the cases transgress the political or cultural autonomy of another community. Manipur state for a long time have been projecting a particular Meetei-centric history and identity through the museums, state holidays and other types of commemorations. This should be questioned and had been questioned through political and academic language for years, but with little success. For example, the entire history of Pangal community or Manipuri Muslims hardly found any space in history writing, hero-making or such state commemorations in the region. The building of this contentious park is a continuation of this problematic state commemorations, and is most likely to result in political confrontations, which is avoidable in such a fragile political arrangement in the state. The purpose of this article is not to question the building of the park or the oppositions to its building. It merely questions the ahistorical reading of the Chibu inscriptions and the historical circumstances leading to their installation at the site.
Two poems by Kabiranjan Saikia/Swadhinota Phukan, a revolutionary poet from Assam who was killed by Indian state in a false encounter on 26th May 2000.
Translations by Arunabh Konwar
I have heard many who claim to have many things growing in their garden but also have well manicured finger-nails. You may own a garden but might not be responsible for what grows in it because you have outsourced this task to a gardener. So you cannot claim to have grown anything and it does not make you a gardener. You can’t have those delicate nails and also be doing gardening. Gardening leaves its marks. On a hot sunny day you can turn a burnished red and your hands are always rough no matter what hand cream you use, including those that claim to work miracles. I take about two hours daily to weed, prune, rake and ensure that the roots of the plants are well looked after and the leaves are healthy. Every once in a while one also has to look for little pests that devour the leaves and cruelly kill them for the choice is between allowing the pest to thrive or your vegetables.
Then there are the other good souls, picking up local bakery and often, surreptitiously procuring our vices like cigarettes and duma, sourced from friends and acquaintances moonlighting as suppliers. So there’s a lesson for me here, be nice to everyone. Spread your friendship net far and wide. You never know who could arrange that last packet of Gold Flake for you.