Day: August 23, 2014

By Pradip Phanjoubam

In letter and spirit’ must be one of the most used and indeed misused phrases, especially in a place like Manipur, with deeply riven social faultlines, where sinister communal motives are read into practically every policy of the government as well as mutually amongst the numerous different ethnic groups, in any demand made by any one of them. This is a sad predicament by any standard, one which has remained a challenge for governments as well as conscientious citizens to overcome through the decades. Unfortunately, the tendency has also been for these so called conscientious citizens to choose to remain unheard and marginalised, leaving the field open for the endless shades of vested interests with a stake in keeping the fires of confrontation burning.

Under the circumstance, one is reminded of Irish poet W.B. Yeat’s sketch of a similar scenario in his beloved conflict torn Ireland of his time where: “The best lack all conviction; and the worst are full of passionate intensity.” Reminded of by the absence of its spirit is also the line from Christ’s Beatitude sermon: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God”.

Nobody will argue blunder has often been the second name of Manipur government policies, but it cannot also be said that the State’s civil society have also always civil either, or that they have not been partisan to boot. The tussle at the Manipur University, where various reserved category students, STs, OBCs and SCs, are at loggerheads over a new reservation norm, is just one example. The scene seems to be dominated by confrontationists, and yet again the pacifists are conspicuous by their absence.

In Ukhrul, another kind of unfortunate friction is developing over the government’s imposition of restrictive orders under CrPC 144 of the Indian Penal Code, after the daylight assassination of the sitting Ukhrul ADC member, Ngalangzar Malue, and subsequent raids and arrests of NSCN(IM) functionaries from Ukhrul in connection with the murder. The CrPC144 we know is a precautionary measure of the establishment against possible rioting, and it prohibits assembling of five or more people at any public place. If in the immediate wake of the despicable murder of the unarmed ADC member, and the subsequent raids of NSCN(IM) offices, such a measure was deemed necessary, we wonder why the district administration has still not thought of lifting the ban order, now that the tension has subsided with the passage of time.

From the news reports and pictures emanating from the Ukhrul district headquarters however, it does seem the CrPC144 is no longer enforced strictly. Quite ironically indeed, there were even pictures in the media of peaceful rallies held in Ukhrul against the imposition of this order which in its essence is supposed to prevent such rallies. Two wrongs do not make a right, but it does seem the government is allowing an undeclared norm which has become the standard in Imphal to take its course in Ukhrul too.

Those of us in the news business will remember that in Imphal the imposition of the CrPC144 is too frequent to keep count. Also again, the administration has seldom bothered to lift the ban orders even after the tensions which prompted it to impose the orders in the first place subsided. However, the bans lapsed invariably, not because of any official declaration of their lifting, but because they gradually fell into oblivion, both of the officialdom as well as the public, and life returned to normal. Come to think of it, if a close scrutiny were to be done today, it is quite likely, much, if not most of Imphal East and Imphal West, would be officially still under CrPC144, imposed once but forgotten without lifting them. Nonetheless, if the administration’s apprehension of riots in Ukhrul has subsided, what is keeping if from lifting the CrPC144 officially, even if it is only to please and pacify the public outrage over it?

RESERVATION NORMS

The reservation question is sensitive. Nobody wants to give up privileges, and this has always been a huge hurdle in making amendments pertaining to this issue. Very broadly, reservation in India is two tiered. One is the Central reservation norms to be followed during recruiting and admission to Central government institutions. The other are the State reservation norms, worked out in accordance to the demographic spreads in the different States. This makes sense, for on the larger Indian canvas, the percentage of Scheduled Castes population is far higher than Scheduled Tribes population. The percentage of Other Backward Classes, too is much higher than the previous two. The population spread of India not being homogenous, and the population breakup along these lines in each of the States is different from the all India average as well as from each other, therefore, each State also has its own reservation norm best suited to its demographic pattern.

The problem is, as we are discovering now, what happens when a Central university comes to be located in a State.

If the university in question was an IIT or an IIM, or for that matter a nationally sought after institute like the Delhi University, Benares Hindu University or Jawaharlal Nehru University, it would only be fair to stick to the national reservation norms regardless of which State these institutes were located in. But in the nascent Central universities in Northeast States, where it is yet unimaginable students from all over India would be rushing to get admission, and therefore those seeking admission would be essentially and largely exclusive to the respective States, there would be a need to alter the reservation norms from the Central pattern. It should be closer to the respective State’s norms though not exactly. As Central universities, they cannot but also think of the rights of students from outside their States if fairness is the objective. After all, they are run on the tax payers’ money of not just their respective States but the entire country.

Manipur University, for instance has some unique and innovative departments such as that of Myanmar Studies which can in the future attract students from outside the State. It would therefore be far sightedness to not exclude such future possibilities, therefore the need for some deviances from the State’s reservation norms and incorporation of some of the Central norms. If it is any consolation, the problem Manipur University is facing currently is not exclusive to it. In Nagaland University, even though a Central university, there have been crippling problems even in the choice of Vice Chancellors on the issue of following Central norms or local wishes.

As an extension of this same logic, while the OBC reservation for Meiteis is meaningful for Central government institutions, where the competition would be with other advanced communities with far longer exposures to modern education, I would say it is quite redundant in State government institutions. Here, the segregation is between candidates who have studied in the same schools and colleges, grew up in the same social milieu, living more or less in the same social and economic strata. The results of various State level competitive entrance examinations where OBC candidates consistently garner large chunks of unreserved seats would bear testimony. The sense of injustice in this will do the society no good in the future. In its letter and spirit, I also do not think there is anything as Scheduled Caste in Manipur, at least nothing to compare with those in continental India, condemned as communities to clean shit at public places such as the railway stations, and live isolated as sub-humans, pursued and killed for no other reason than the hatred of their ‘polluting’ existence.

In its letter and spirit, the reservation system of the Indian constitution was also essentially meant to level out the playing fields so that the underprivileged in the society can hope for fair competition. But once this playing field has been levelled out, by the same letter and spirit of the reservation policy, the reservation system should begin to be eased out. In the OBC reservation this issue is somewhat addressed. There is a clause for the creamy layer to be absorbed into the general category so that those actually underprivileged amongst the backward classes can have the benefit of reservation. I think it is time for this clause to be applied to the reservation for STs and SCs too.

This will not only ensure a sense of justice to general candidates, but more importantly, guarantee the original spirit of the reservation system is preserved. With the creamy layer consisting of children of ministers, MLAs, Class-1 government officers, and super rich business people who had afforded the best education and exposure to the world out of the way, the competition would be fairer for ST and SC candidates who are truly underprivileged. Here too, in State level competitions, it will be again noticed that there has been a rise in the number of ST and SC candidates making it to the general lists, indicating happily the playing fields are beginning to be levelled out. New reservation norms of the near future must also in all fairness, take this trend into consideration.

Lest I am misunderstood, being struck out from the reserved category does not mean tribal elite would lose their ethnicity. They would continue to be what they were, but not in the reserved category. The two should not be confused. I mention this because in countries like Canada and the USA, there are allegations of systematic depletion of population of indigenous Native populations because they were made to give up their tribal identities on such considerations as their moving out of their Reservations, marrying a non Native, professions, economic status etc. I would still call such policy genocide. What I am suggesting here is for a clear and separate treatment of ethnic identity from economic categories in any consideration of the reservation policy. There can be a rich tribal and a poor tribal, and they are not equal.

One more thing needs to be said on the reservation issue for there is often a rather mischievous statement made either out of ignorance or else with mala fide intent, that the general seats are reserved, in the case of Manipur, for the Meiteis. This is an untruth which by the consistence of its repetition has come to acquire the facade of being factual. Under the Indian dispensation, there are the general seats and the reserved seats. The general seats are open for competition to all candidates, including those in the reserved categories. The reserved seats are exclusively for those included in the reserved categories. True it would be unfair to say competition is fair if the a child who grew up in a village with no school and therefore had to travel 10 kilometres each day on foot to another village to attend school were to compete with another from capital Imphal who had been literally spoilt for choices as to which elite school to attend. To leave the two to compete for the same seat would be discrimination, therefore reservation is necessary. However, when parity begins to be struck in the social and economic backgrounds of the candidates, it would be absolute dishonestly to still make statements that the general seats are reserved for the so called privileged classes.

Read more / Original news source: http://kanglaonline.com/2014/08/between-the-letter-and-the-spirit/

By Tinky Ningombam

One of the most common nightmares that people have is one where they get late for school. Having personally heard many a tale, I reminisce even my own nightmares where I get ready for school but couldn’t reach there on time. Highly frustrating, that. To make things worse, there will the high-school passing exam and an angry teacher trying to humiliate me in front of my many many mocking school mates.

It is common knowledge that for a child, the worst and best things in life have mostly happened in school, whether it is the first public humiliation, the first cat fight or the first victory over evil. How can we forget the horrors of adolescence – the teenage years, ones that passed like a storm – dark, angry and wrecking everything possible on the way. Combine that with school, with authority, with rules. We get the best ingredients for a prime time reality show.

Because it was a time for secrets. Of adventure. Of friendship. Also of fear. Of lies. Of betrayal.

They say that a person’s first chapter in their auto-biography is always one of their school days. After all, it is our childhood memories and our past that give shape to much of our insecurities or in better circumstances, our strengths.

My friends were the anchors in my own complicated teenage years in school. Years later when one of my oldest friends, Yai, told me that she used to be scared of me in school because she was a tiny frail girl who was soft spoken, I told her that I was just as scared as she was, that I would not even tell the teacher that I was right and take a punishment for fear of being asked to explain myself.

When we finally did leave high school, I changed from a scrawny kid who was always scared to speak up to being someone who would and could not be stopped from speaking, not because of a miracle but because I had friends to push me into being outgoing. Every enjoyable school activity that I was in, it was because of my friends.

School can be a pretty scary place sometimes, even the senior kid who is a big winner, the one with the trophies, the one with the highest scores, the one who the teacher loves more, even the over-achievers can seldom ask for help for fear of ridicule. It’s not called “crying for help” for fun, is it?

Everyone has a different past. But every kid will hate three things and that’s universal – contempt, confrontation and counsel.

But seriously, bring me a teenager who loves advice and I will move the world. When I was a teen, I remember I would do just the opposite of what I was told to do, just to drive people around me crazy. It was not even rebellion if I see it now, it was just trying to annoy people. Just pure evil.

You, on the other hand, dear reader, might have been an angel. But no one likes free advice, especially from parents. Well, for one, they are free and hence deemed cheaper than advice that you pay for, like sending a cross-country speed post letter to your favorite rock star to ask about your goal in life or running after an older senior to give you beauty tips. Those, seemed more genuine, cooler!

However, to the people who turned out okay, despite all the psychological hardships and childhood traumas, we celebrate today in solidarity. The storm has passed. But sometimes, we think that maybe we should have taken some of the old advice we discarded because we didn’t know better.

Today, if I could somehow go back in a time-machine and became my teen-age self I will definitely take those golden counsel. So I end with a few super tips that I wish a “teen-ME” could have known, I hope the teenagers today have enough brains to know them sooner than later:

· That I should tell my friends I love them for I may not be spending as much time with them again.

· That even bad pictures of loved ones becomes treasures.

· That I should never pretend to be something that I am not.

· That I should talk more to people who care.

· And lastly, that it is okay to apologize when I am wrong

Read more / Original news source: http://kanglaonline.com/2014/08/notes-for-the-teenager/

By Nongthongbam Kunjamohon Singh

Translated by Chitra Ahanthem

Badarpur Junction. Looking around to check for any familiar faces was proving futile. It was better to get hold of a seat, so I got into a second class compartment. No one else had entered. I spread the hold-all on the long bench and sat down. Bored after looking at the melee of passengers milling around, I opened the copy of ‘Hindustan Standard’ that I had bought from ‘Wheeler’. Just as I was about to read the main headline, I heard the loud cries of ‘chai garam, chai garam’ intruding upon my ears. A head thrust inside from the open window continued, ‘Cha lage Babu, garam samosa’ (Need tea Babu, hot samosa?). My tempers frayed but there was nothing I could do about it, except to turn away my face after saying ‘Na’.

Turning my face to the newspaper, I saw the headline in bold, ‘China attacks India yet again, troops converge near the Mac Mohan line’. I hardly got beyond the first line before it started again, ‘Paan, cigarette. Babu, paan cigarette lage’ (Paan, cigarette. Babu, do you need paan, cigarette?). This time, I said ‘na’ with just a hint of anger.

I decided that this time, I would not bother at all. I would not turn up my face from the newspaper. Even without looking up, I was aware of people getting up and down around me. It was none of my business. Let them do what they had to. After all, I did not have to worry about my seat. The news was getting interesting: ‘China ignores Colombo proposal’.

‘Oh! It’s our Oja!’ I was startled. It was the voice of a woman that I had not heard in my ears for a long time. I turned my face from the newspaper and saw her face that had the hint of a smile. The features had changed a bit but I could recognize her well. She kept the child she had in her lap on to the bench and bent down to pay her obeisance. The handsome bespectacled man by her side folded his hands to greet me. Though I did not know him, I assumed him to be her husband. But he could be some other relative too! To clear my doubt, I asked, “Bina, he is…”. Bina kept smiling shyly.

So, they were indeed a couple. They made a good match. After all, Bina did not lack in beauty. Her husband spread the hold-all on the long bench before me. They sat down, keeping their child between them. The child was beautiful too and one never tired of looking. If only my Jiten had been alive…

I must have been lost in my thoughts while looking at the child intently when Bina treaded upon the world I was in, “Oja, it has been a long time. Where are you headed?”

True, it had been a long time. It would be about five years now. We had not met since the year I married and she passed her matriculation examinations.

“I am going to Shillong. What about you?”

“Digboi. We had gone home for the holidays.”

Then it struck me. Bina’s father had mentioned one day that her husband had a job at Digboi.

The train started. The child remained transfixed on the world he saw unfolding around him. People who had come to see off or receive their loved ones remained behind waving their hands as the train moved on. If some had tears while bidding good-bye, a few did so with a smile. The junction slowly faded away from sight. In the sky above, the stars twinkled brightly. The child turned his face towards us; perhaps he was afraid of darkness.

“Come, sit with me,” I said leading him to where I was sitting. He had no inhibitions. Bending slightly, I hugged him close and asked him, “What is your name?”

“Master Dilip Singh.”

“Good! Good!” I hugged him just a bit more. “And what is your father’s name?”

“Shri Ranjit Singh”

“Oh! How nice!”

Just then, the noise of the train crossing a bridge made it impossible to hear anything else. When the bridge crossing got over, Dilip’s father got up and said, “My apologies but I am going up. Please continue. I am dying to sleep. I had not been able to sleep yesterday too.”

He promptly went up without paying any heed to my suggestion that we talk a bit more. With him gone, I did not continue with the conversation. Bina remained seated looking at something in the darkness outside without batting an eye. What was she looking at: Was it the course of bitter sweet memories that she was confronted with now? Along with her, I suddenly reached a long forgotten cornerstone of my life that I had long left behind.

I had no idea how long I remained brooding. Bina’s question made me wake up instantly, “How is Inamma doing?”

The child was no longer with me. He was sleeping next to his mother. I had no idea when his mother had taken him.

I answered as quickly as I could, “It’s been two years since she left me for another world.”

After a silent pause, she asked again, “What about the boy?”

“He followed his mother. It’s been a year now.”

I had not turned towards her all this while but I looked at her direction when I answered her questions. As I answered the last question, she made a sound. I looked at her and saw tears falling from her eyes. That was Bina. This was her true nature. She never could stay unaffected whenever she heard about other people’s woes. I knew it now: she was sorry for me. She could see clearly how I would be living my life without anyone to look out for me. She knew her teacher did not care much about the world around him.

I was a teacher then. Since the salary was not much, I took up tuitions. My classes were well appreciated and there was no dearth of students who came home for tuitions. Bina came for the classes along with her friend Ibemhal. They were to appear for their matriculation examinations and were diligent in their studies. The smile never left her face despite the distance of more than a mile that she took to come for her classes. She never missed her classes, even on the days that Ibemhal did not turn up. She always brought the pick of the Leihao flower along with her. Even if she had none to offer to my Indomcha, she always had a Leihao for me. My aunt often said in jest, “How caring she is of her Oja! She always ensures her Oja gets one!” Hearing this, Bina would lower her face shyly with a slight smile. Whenever I chided her for lagging behind in her studies, her tears would flow.

One day, my aunt started the topic of my marriage prospects to which I said, “How will I find a woman? I must be the most unfortunate man ever. No woman has come forth to say she loves me.”

My aunt retorted, “Why would women not love you? You do not lack in looks. But will a woman ever admit her feelings first? She would express it by gesture and attitude. It is you who has failed to recognize this. You are a simpleton, oblivious of what is around you.”

I did not realize the truth behind Indomcha’s words then. Six months later, when the fallen leaves of autumn were swept off in the frenzied cries of the spring cuckoo, it brought a new beginning to my life as well. All my students came over to share their happiness on the day. But for whatever reason, Bina was not present. It struck me then that there might have been some truth in my aunt’s words.

I did not realize when I fell asleep. I woke up with a start when the train jerked as it reached some station. When I opened my eyes, I found a shawl covering my body. It surprised me no end for I had not covered myself. The shawl was not mine, either. But I knew who would have covered me up. She would have surely have done this to ward off the cold from her Oja. She was awake. “Here, it’s no longer cold,” I said, handing back the shawl. Dilip’s father too climbed down.

In between small talk and freshening up, we did not notice the train having reached Lumding. Since we had to change trains we stepped down, taking our belongings. Keeping our things in the waiting room, all of us went to the railway restaurant. As I was about to pay for the food, Bina said with just a hint of anger, “Oja! How can you?” And just as suddenly as a flood drying up, she said gently with a smile, “I am no longer the student who could not stand up for herself. I run a household now. Will I not have this privilege of serving you during this chance meeting after a span of five years?

I had to give in quietly.

Soon, we reached the down train. Twenty minutes later, the whistle started to go off. All three of them walked me off till the platform. I took out a five rupee note and handed it to Bina’s son. When Bina animatedly tried to say something, she stopped when I said, “Silent! You cannot say anything.”

Once the salutations were over, I climbed on the train, which began to start off slowly. Soon, the distance grew and the three of them: mother, father and son remained behind waving at me. After a while, just as the train took a slight bend, I saw in a blur Bina’s hands which had been waving at me, wiping the tears away from her eyes with the ends of her innaphi.

(This translation of the short story written by the late Nongthongbam Kunjamohon in 1963 has been recently published in Tamna, a half yearly journal brought out by the Manipur Chapter of the North East Writers’ Forum)

Read more / Original news source: http://kanglaonline.com/2014/08/the-stemmed-flow-chenkhidraba-eechel/