"Are you guys on a different time-zone?”. (a chuckling
smiley)
"Yes, we're… considering Bangladesh is just stone's throw
away". (a mischievous smiley)
That's the
transcript of a Whatsapp conversation I had with a friend. Upon learning
that 'Eimis' -Chin, Kuki, Mizo and Zomi in Tripura will be celebrating Chavang Kut come November 9, he hit
back satirically and equally satirical was my response. I told him that when
you couldn't be the first, it ought to be ‘better
to be late than never’. It s our shrewd ploy to be the one trying to have
the last hearty laugh when all about Kut elsewhere is dwindling from public
memory. Celebrating Chavang Kut
(Kut) on any given day provided it is, during autumn, suits me just fine.
Aren't we?! It's very unlikely that our forefathers who traced their d.o.b. to
the cultivation of a certain crops in a certain patch of land during certain
seasons would have celebrated 'Chavang Kut' on the dot on first of November
each year. That's not rocket science!
Preparation from the word-go
Within a
week's time, preparation for Kut made headway; spearheading this post-harvest
festival of the Eimis was the executive members of Eimi Fellowship,
Agartala. They tapped in all the available resources- the technical
knowhow, 'hisaping and kitabing', debits and debentures vagera vagera
from the experiences and expertise they had accumulated over the years in their
line of work and profession and laid it on the table for discussion. Several
meetings were held to chalk out and execute the mammoth task ahead. Given their
professional acumen and credentials, I suspect they must have plan A-Z in
place, had one of the plan didn't come off initially.
Social Work
In such
meetings they resolved unanimously to observe and celebrate the The 5th
Chavang Kut,Tripura on the 9th of November, 2014 at ESC Compound, Rajghat.
Following this, a social work was organised on the eve of D-day i,e on November
8. Since morning, Brothers from Rajghat and Lefunga were cutting bamboos and
carrying it all the way which was about 2 kms from Rajghat. Our pastor, Rev. L.
T. Gangte generously doles out his stock-pile of tools, bamboo, mats and
tarpaulin. When the tarpaulin was laid over the skeletal hall-frame, it was
almost sun-down, each volunteers sweat an honest brow to produce the desired
result, leaving no room for complain and untoward feedbacks from the hoi
polloi.
D-day
By 11:00 hrs
November 9, 2014 ESC Compound, Rajghat was bustling and buzzing with a pleasant
number of foot-fall. Children were going haywire with either too much joy or
excitement; one shove the other at the back and they gave each other a wild
chase until their mothers would yell at them, from afar, to stop. After the
crowd exchanges pleasantries to one another, they quietly settled at their own
designated place. Kut-pa Pu Mangkhup Gangte and Special Guest Pu B. K.
Hrangkhawl were among the few early birds.
Session I (Not In
Alphabetical Order/ Merit)
I felt an
instant connect with Kut-pa, Pu Mangkhup Gangte, when he relate his state of
discomfort, in being 'suited-booted' for the occasion, to a boy named David who
was panting for breath after putting on those heavy armour of a soldier. I was
also choked by my own tie and shirt but kya karein it's Kut and I had to
dress up a weeny bit. Like Bapuji, I too believed in ‘Freedom of Movement '. Though in my case, it is about one's own
body movement. In any gathering whenever a Gangte brother or sister speaks, our
stomach always bear the brunt of their superlative wits and banter; always a
laugh-riot or laugh-a-thon. Intriguingly, their trait is felt, even in their
absence, as the mere mention of ‘Tong-gou' during my High School days would
make me and my friends split our guts out. Tonggou was Lamka's answer to what
Russel Peters is to Canada or closer home, he was what Vir Das (weir-d-ass) is
to some stand-up comedy aficionado in India. I have a compelling notion that
Kut-pa must have been warned by his better-half not to 'multi-task' on stage
but to stick solely to being a Kut-pa and the baggage it comes with.
Nevertheless, his speech made the skin on my face retrieve its elasticity. (Way
back into suppleness). I admired his powerful word-play when he stressed that
Kut today is still in tandem with the Kut of yore by stating "Our
forefathers wine and dine and make merry and we take tea and bis-'kut' (sic),
in the place of 'ju leh sa', and make merry". In his prism of
observation, Kut of the bygone era and Kut of today is strictly on equal
footing.
Pu B. K.
Hrangkhawl is an ex-MLA and his cavalcade (security scout) secured the
perimeter of the venue. (Don't ask me what B. K. stands for; I've a very strong
'dil-logical' inclination to say that B. K. is the acronym for 'Boi-Kho').
He was and still is the front-man of the marginalised tribals of Tripura, a
much revered and respected in the community he fought tooth and nail for but
was once a 'wanted' man by the government and was jailed four times.
(Welcome to
India!, where advocates of the underpriviledged and minorities are labeled
'wanted' and jailed by the corpo-cratic government; corporate-politician
nexus). This, only Arundhati Roy has the credentials and the audacity to bring
it to the fore, thread-bare. Surprising as it may sound; a man of the masses
was scorned and abhorred by the 'majority' community on this Indo-frontier
state with Bangladesh. Following the subsequent arrest warrant and the bounty
on his head, he had but to go underground along with his wife and had to
survive with a monthly ration of just 5 kg of rice. In his own words, "there
was no breakfast, no lunch and no dinner; the only meal of the day comes only
at 8 PM".
The
tell-tale signs of his ordeal in the jungle can be seen even now. At 68 , the
ex-MLA is bespectacled, frail and but speaks articulate English. His voice is
calm but still commands a tone of enthusiasm and awe coupled with wisdom. He
said he had taken 40 children with him to Churachandpur with the sole motive of
giving them proper education. "It wasn't easy" he elaborated, "considering
the treacherous terrain and the unforgiving road". It was a wise and bold decision, on his part,
taking into consideration the sorry state of education then in Tripura. Those
children are now bigwigs in the tribal society of Tripura; some of them are IAS
and TCS officers while others are elite professionals- doctors and engineers.
He told every student he met and to the students present on this auspicious
occasion "to study not merely for degrees but for education and to
bring about positive changes in the society". Raju Hirani or Chetan
Bhagat, for that matter, must have heard such inspirational lecture of his and
imbibed it in 3 Idiots. I listened to his speech with rapt attention
from the 'last bench' and few minutes into his speech I already admired him. A
great deal. But I didn't go up to say hi or shook his hands afterward. I find
myself oddly strange sometime.
Cultural
Troupe from Abhicharan, Lefunga, RIPSAT (Regional Institute of Pharmaceutical
Science And Technology) and Fishery College tells the story of yore and more of
lore through their cultural dance. The techno-beats blaring from the 1000 W
speaker must be the only new thing but their every moves and steps were those
invented and choreographed by our fore-fathers and depicts our one-time way of
life. One performer caught my attention; it was a boy (sorry ladies!). I don't
know which dance troupe he was; he seems to be having two wrong feet. He
reminded me of an old friend who dance for the first time; my friend had never
before in his life-time put on a dancing shoes. It was Fishery College students
who dance to the popular Hillsong's number ‘Every move I make/ I make in
you/ You make me move, Jesus/’ that made me missed, for a split second, my
Sunday School students in KWS, Delhi. That was their favourite song, both
teacher-student alike, would jive to this song and it doesn't matter you 'moon-walked'
or B-boying it.
JNU
empowered Ng. Theim Kipgen, now a guest lecturer at Tripura University, dons
the mantle as compere, with a mic in her hand like sceptre, she commands the
programme both Session I and Session II with aplomb. She doesn't left any stone
unturned to spice up the crowd who were too stiff, though just initially,
sitting at their comfortable chair. In Session II, Pa Robert Haokip lent her a
helping hand. At times, when the boisterous 'jodi' call someone to occupy the
dias, to my loi-nah vu lou' (just a metaphor; untamed calf/buffalo)
ears, it sounded like a butcher chopping meat in a hurry. And more often than
not, their request almost seem like a court summon to me. Well, that's just my
aural reception or deception. As a matter of fact the crowd loved them; they
often went into a tizzy at their every utterance.
Session-II (Not In
Alphabetical Order/ Merit)
Barring the
sound system playing spoil sport in the intervening phase of Session-II, the
programme as a whole was top notch and a class apart. This I go by the crowd's
reaction and who could be the better judge than them; they went frenzy when our
priceless artistes were called on stage.
When Pa
Khuplal took centre-stage and sang 'Lunghel pul' in his own inimitable
style, the likes of which would put Bengali's Bill Withers Kishoreda to shame,
I was walking down memory lane. Wordsworth wondered about the theme the maiden
sing in 'The Solitary Reaper’. I, for one, here wonders what motivates
our own 'Don Williams' to sing this song; it was so soulful that each word of
the lyrics pulled each valve, arteries and veins of my cold, cold heart. Does
it have something to do with his current emotional state (of mind)? The needle
of my otherwise inquisitive mind points to the absence of Mrs. Hauzel. The
faintest memory I've had of this song was a dubbed version where Amitbah
Bachchan was digitally synced and forced to sing 'Lunghel pul'. Trust
me, what I heard today was more authentic and did justice to the lyrics a
hundred fold. I almost missed somebody or was it 'The Girl from Yesterday'?
Pa Helun
melancholic rendition of 'Nitin ka subject' was a tad emotional but to a
point where he pointed towards someone I couldn't help cooing and bellowing. I
wasn't the only one. I craned my stiff neck to the direction he was pointing
and saw a lady, grinning from ear to ear, beside her li'l Alice was trotting
nonchalant. If both mother and child were in the hall instead of being on the
porch of the chapel, which is a furlong away from the epicentre, I bet I would
have seen her blushing.
Minlien's 'vaisohlu
apah tengle' made Pa Letcha a 'jumping jack'. Little is known if he was one
in his formative years. But Kimkim dad's almost stole Minlien's thunder or
should we say his full throttle act? One thing though is obvious, Pa Letcha's
court skill (Lawn-Tennis) comes handy at the stroke of such clarion call.
Minlien's 'Kanam jem' too was making waves among the crowd and the
ripple effect could even be felt by the caterers and security guard on the
premises.
Pa
Kamthang's gospel number was no less devoid of admiration and cheer. It appears
to be striking the right chord with audience too as most of the aged were glued
to the stage with their mouth wide-open and nodding their heads with the
rhythm.
Away from
the 'glitterati' and the paparazzis' flashes was li'l Suosuon (s/o Pa Lunlal,
IB) who was cackling, screaming and hopping on his daddy's lap. Emboldened by
his ecstatic act, I screamed and cheered once or twice. Perhaps, even more, I
lost count.
Retrospect
At night,
when I lie on the bed and looked back Chavang Kut, Tripura 2014 I
mumbled to myself "yeh kalval kaha milega". Not just because I
enjoyed it to the hilt; it was, in retrospect, the underlying truth that no
matter how hard we tried to build walls between us in a place we fondly called
'home', we're one and the same in the nut-shell. And no matter how each tribe
or community claims who our progenitor is, we hailed from the same womb. We're
like a breath-taking flower garden laden with roses, dahlia, marigold or
periwinkle; each projecting our roots deep beneath the same humus, the little
sapling shielded by the towering plant. Each swaying to and fro in the
billowing wind; absorbing the same moisture, sunlight and a sprinkle from the
clouds when it thunders and pours down. In the dialect I called my
mother-tongue, there is a maxim- "Nga in atam athipi in, mi in atam
ahinpi e". Unlike any other place where we're numerous as the stars
that shine on a cloudless night we are here just over a ton but our bonding and
cohesion is impeccable and immaculate. Do we need a rethinking of the
afore-mentioned maxim? I don't say the adage is wrong. Who am I, in the first
place, to say or even think likewise?! But unfortunately, it's a different
story altogether when we returned 'home', where we are in multitudes and
equally diverse and numerous is our differences and problems between amongst
ourselves; the close-knit entity we
have here in Agartala lost its sheen over there. It's just sad and sadder; we
can't do anything about it.
Supplementing
what Rev. L. T. Gangte said, when he took the podium following the lenient
comperes ‘opening the house’ for the
crowd, it will be a welcome gesture and a milestone celebrating Kut along with
the 'Old-Kuki tribes' of Tripura (the
Darlong, Hrangkhawl etc.) . This could bridge the gap between us and our
one-time brother and promote further cordial relationship and closer ties with them.
P.S. One man lackadaisical observation couldn't cover
everything and anything that had unfolded under the 'Chavang toni’ but this is all I could recollect. Perhaps, a day
or two or a fortnight down the line, I may remember a thing or two more but as
for now I gave it my all.
