SIR: The Unserious Bits

I wrote a bit for the MCS magazine RAHBI. But there were a few things in my journal left that I thought belonged here. The less than refined ones, you could say.

Basic review is SIR was done in three phases: Phase-I Mapping, Phase-II Enumeration and Phase-III Claims & Objections. Unlike other years, we had two Rolls to base our examinations – Draft Roll 2026 and the infamous SIR 2005 Roll. Yikes. People had moved. People had died. Maps had been redrawn yada yada. Nightmare.

I was happy when the Final Roll was published on the 7th September, 2026. Anything after the 7th Sept is Post-SIR. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

It occurred to me while writing my piece that in normal times, your friendly neighbourhood BLO would not delete your name from their roll just because they haven’t seen you around lately. They understand that people travel around for work, or personal reasons, and then return. You realistically cannot expect anyone to know where everyone was. But one random May, somehow, suddenly, they were expected to know exactly that. Everyone yes, plus their nephew, seems like. That was a challenge and a half. 

Word to the wise: Make sure your BLO knows you. If they don’t, their actions can have unintended consequences with such reach that makes your life a bureaucratic hellhole.

Now, the general public was mostly only involved in Phase-III where all electors were checked individually and those requiring examination were served Notices personally by the BLO. Each of their claims had to be examined though the lens and bounds of 13 documents as prescribed by the ECI. It was in this manner that the ECINET found an average of 19.42% of electors in the Mizoram roll, post-enumeration, as suspicious. That is a very large number! The principle of Natural Justice was always going to make this task a humongous undertaking.

And it was.

To put this in perspective, in 15 Aizawl West-I AC, we had 30,902 electors pre-enumeration. After due diligence post-Phase-II, we had 28,782 electors out of which we served Notices to 4671. The AERO and I combed through the remaining 24,111 electors individually and decided they were genuine. We found 787 of 4761 electors unfit. Rationalization happened during this process as well, and while we started out with 33 Parts, we closed SIR 2026 with 38 parts total and 29,456 electors, a net increase of 2.34% from where we began.

I got myself a Blue-Tint glass because we had to spend so much time – an insane amount, in fact – locked onscreen. And also locked in on multi-vitamins and diet supplements, not to mention Vitamin D, to help me make it through July and August. As well as forced my family and friends to pray. 

My dormant Sociology brain was awakened and activated in ways it had not been in many years now. I observed a lot of peculiar phenomenon I would like to journal here.

1. Documentation: People need to step up with keeping track of their legal papers and documents. One would have thought in the days of Instagram, at least young people would have digital copies of all their documents. But sadly, no. Besides knowing where they are, know what’s written in them because one fine day a random magistrate may ask you why your name is Lalfakzuala in your document but you have written your name as Timothy L. Hualngo. What do you tell her then?

Speaking of which, names are a matter of sociological interest. I could pin it as: The Sociology and Evolution of Names in a Social Media Culture. I wonder if it was Facebook that used a white people format with their First Name, Middle Name and Surnames, when you make your profile. Mizo names are often a singular name, or two names, one of which is a Bible/Foreign name; it is not the norm to use your clan name as your official name. Like how my mother writes her name as Lalrinmawii, singular name, and my sister would write Ruth Lalruatfeli. Then there’s my father who prefaces his name with the abbreviated form of the clan name, hence LH Shanliana. And me who writes my name as Esther Leihang, using the clan name as a suffix to my name. With Facebook, however, people started writing the clan name as the surname and often begin using this name in official spaces too without bothering to legally change their names at all. Major kerkuffle.

Piling on, with names, sometimes people simply write other people’s names as they guess it, and not as it is. So an Imsonaro might appear in Roll as Narola, because the BLO was not familiar with the Ao name and thought that was her formal name. Or a Neihtlingi could appear as Tlingi because their BLO couldn’t be bothered asking her her formal name. As Harry Potter might say, Riddikulus! (Or maybe not.)

Or if you join the army, join it in your real and true name, FFS. Check if the dude registering you wrote a Lushai after your name and if you’re not Lusei, ask him to correct it then! When you want to re-enter Civil Roll, that same magistrate chick is going to ask you why it says Lushai in the Army documents but Fanai in your birth certificate? Or something. I hear she is a bitch. 

Otherwise, be committed to whatever name you entered the army in. Like my own grandfather Khuangdailova who entered Assam Rifles as Benga. His tombstone reads Benga. His grandchildren know him as “Benga Late”. 

2. Exercising of rights: We keep a more than healthy distance from the government. I can't blame people for this but sometimes we need to look some things up for ourselves. For example, even if you were not in Mizoram when you turned 18, someone else could still approach your BLO or your ERO on your behalf. Or you can use NVSP to enroll online. You cannot be turned down simply because you aren’t physically present, provided you have all your documents in order. Mind you, I can’t even be preachy here because if not for my conscientious mother, I wouldn’t have been enrolled at 18 at all. All I can say is that perhaps if teenagers aren’t that aware yet, maybe parents/guardians need to be more mindful for their wards’ sakes. 

3. Approaching the Law: People don’t know how Hearings work. If you appear for a Hearing, you have to be prepared to explain yourself. If you appear for someone else, you have to be prepared to explain them. A few someones laminated their Hearing Notices; they’re not really that precious. In regular circumstances, we don’t need to fear the Law.  

4. Women’s autonomy: People often say women in Mizoram are "too empowered" that we now need to start empowering men. To those who benefit from a system, equality often feels like oppression or loss of status. So I guess it is to be expected. During SIR, I saw urban women homemakers that had not a single bank account in their names, no other documents except Voter ID and Aadhaar. When their place in the roll i.e. Voter ID was questioned, and Aadhaar was not accepted as an evidentiary document, what could they do? All their papers were in relation to their husbands. I couldn’t help but think at least rural women in Mizoram have Job Cards and bank accounts in their name, and that is only because the Central govt. dictates it to be so. 

One couple appeared and when asked about the documents for the woman, the husband snapped, “Ani kha chu delete mai teh u,” very callously. My support staff reacted faster than I did with, “Amah kha delete hmasa rawh, ma’am.” I hope it was not because it came from another man that no one argued. Wordlessly, the man went back and returned with supporting documents. 

How empowered is the Mizo woman in such limited autonomy? A topic for another day, maybe.

5. I hated when older men and women – especially women – came for Hearings. Whatever their situations, I could not help but think that a weird system error could have made an ERO call my mother to one such Hearing. Even if not, my parents, in their retired years, roam around Aizawl on their own often. I would hate if people they interacted with were mean to them. I tried very hard to be gentle and polite. However I performed is a different story, I suppose, but I did try very hard.

6. Kinship terminology: Kinship was a major paper in Sociology at Uni. Precisely because many terminologies are culture specific, they don’t translate well in English. One such is “pu” as in maternal grandfather, paternal grandfather, maternal uncle(s) and maternal male cousins, quite aside from the honorific for Mister. Cultures like Hindu North and South India would make such fine distinctions that one could never be unsure what one was to another. In Mizo society, where even your maternal aunt and paternal aunt were not related to you the same, somehow many men were clubbed together as “pu” to you. Families are not the same and sometimes some children do not stay with their parents. If that guardian happens to be their putea, for example, their maternal uncle, the BLO would translate it to grandfather in their application forms. Then somehow they start to look very suspicious when this pu does not feature in their lineage.

On the topic of lineage and kinship, it has been observed that sometimes people from Myanmar marry Indians and obtain delayed Birth Certificates, claiming to be the children of their in-laws, or even their own spouses. It might be difficult for their local government to know any different. It is impossible for the district level offices to know. I can’t preach but locals in a locality need to be aware of these things and perhaps give it few thoughts. It is easy to put up fences when someone is “bad”; it is always the “good” ones you have to watch out for.

The next list is not Sociological, but just random things that stood out for me that you might also find interesting.

1. I asked so many people “Khawnge i Birth Certificate?” or “Enge i DOB?” that sometimes it came out as “Khawnge i DOB?” Makes me feel stupid. But whatever.

2. I became a big fan of Erling Haaland during SIR Phase-III. He was chronically online after Norway left the World Cup and it made me sad that I couldn’t keep up because of SIR. 

3. We were dealing with so many papers that I practically inhaled Stapler pins. Dear lawd.

4. Some of my best intellectual interactions:

a. Me: Ka pi, engatinge SIR 2005 ah i hming a chuan loh le?

Ka pi: Ka hre nang.

(Reader, I don’t know how to proceed from here)

b. Me: Ka pi, engatinge SIR 2005 ah i hming a chuan loh le?

Ka pi: Engatinge mawni le,PC hun lai kha chuan Khawhai ah ka vote asin.

(Erm, OK. I didn’t really ask your political orientation but that was quite a good evidentiary story!)

c. Me: Ka pu, khawnge i Birth Certificate?

Ka pu: Lawngtlai mi kan nia, hna ka zawn laiin a Ori ka submit a, ka tling leh si lo a, a bo hlen daih nih kha. 

(Say what?)

d. Me: SIR Extract rawn nei la 

Them: Khawia mi nge ka neih ang a? Tunah khan min zawn sak la

(Can we pretend I am in charge here? No? OK.)

e. BLO: I nu chu zu ko teh, in paih ringawt a hlauhawm.

…

Girl: Ka peih lo, a tia.

(I was not offended. I shared her sentiments a 100%) 

f. Me: Eng document nge i neih le?

Them: ID leh Aadhaar.

(Uno Reverse move, babes!) 

g. BLO: Engatinge i lo in lan ve ngawt? Notice i dawng ve ami?

Boy: (shows us a polybag containing some papers) Ka nu in i buai ve ang, han kal ve rawh min ti

(No trust between those two, I tells ya!)

h. Me: Ka pu, khawnge vote i neih thin?

Ka pu: INC ah.

(Again, I'm not particular whichever way you vote!)

5. I came across a girl called Folina. I asked her what part of the world that name was from. She said she didn't know. I said who gave you the name. She said grandma. I said did she find it in a novel? She's like hehe. Then she whispered: M&B. I want to meet this M&B loving grandmother.

6. One BLO whispered to me: “Ani hi chu 99 pawh a pha chiah lo, 98 vel aniang, zawt thui telh² la, a sawi buai telh² mai ang”. That was funny. And true. Seven questions in and we'd have discussed Japan, maybe.

7. One Rev. John Chhakchhuak Lalramliana appeared for Hearing. He knew how to read Bengali. Unfortunately, as it turned out, for one Pu Khama who produced an SIR Extract, pointed at one name and said, “This is me.” The Reverend was still around so I asked if he could read it without us having to bother with AI. Just for proof. I waited to hear him read some version of “Khama” even with misspellings. I’d already begun signing my name. But the good Reverend read “Rebecca”. Hey what?! As I said, unfortunately for Pu Khama. The reverend felt bad so he read the whole list out, just to check if anyone of them sounded like Khama. None did. Anyhoo.

8. I had my birthday during my Hearing. People would call up. I’d pick up and say hey I am conducting a Hearing. And they always lowered their voice at their end! That was one of my favourite bits about my birthday this year. Like hey my darling, they can’t hear you. LOLz.

9. I had a few heavyweights in my area. All India Services people, for example. It was not the nicest feeling.

10. Some of the BLOs’ reports to me:

a. BLO 1 in ka voter a lo map daih a, min biak sak rawh.

(Herein I call up other EROs and say: I BLO in ka BLO voter a la ania. Does not make me feel like we were on a Class KG playground at all.)

b. An inṭhen tawh tih ka lo hre lo a, EF a pasal hlui ka pe a, a khawr hlawm vek, ka be tawh ngai lo, a ti hmak.. a hrehom hle.

c. Oxygen nena dam mai mai tawh, EF fill ve a ṭul lo, min tih sak a, a nuam lo duh hle.

d. An monu hlui a lo nia, pa berin khami te chhung nen khan kan in contact tawh ngai lo, a ti bur, sawi belh tur a vang duh khawp.

e. Kum 20 chhungin chhungkua kan lo danglam nasa hman a, chhungkaw chanchin ril leh tuihnai lo lai kan in zawt leh ṭhin a, an tan leh keini tan a nuam lo duh.

f. Ka ṭawngvai naah mi phone number ka lo la char char.

(I am so sorry!)

11. People are very very different. Just to illustrate, we had some new BLOs every now and then. Some said, “Ka la thar a, engmah ka hre lo.” And some said, “Ka la thar sia, BLO senior te ka zawt nasa.” Even among more experienced BLOs, some constantly blamed us and whined about things people didn’t do, or what the office did wrong. Same job, same roles, some BLOs managed perfectly fine. At some point you just say, “Mihring hi kan inang lo ani.”

12. I was told a story about how a family legally adopted a girl because the father needed a kidney and she was a match but the medical board demanded legal papers. The ethics of it all bothered me. But perhaps not up to me to say.

13. On the subject of ethics, I met a lot of people who had altered their DOBs because of job market, sports, academics etc. I wonder if our religion and its moralities have any real bearing on the ethics we live by in the real world and its professional standards.

14. I met a man called Sabathrama in Phunchawng. I enjoyed that conversation quite a bit.

Me: Ka pu, Seventh Day ami in nih? (because of the Sabbath in his name)

Sabathrama: Ni nang, vawksa ka duh lutuk.

Me: Document hi i va nei chau ve.

Sabathrama: Ka nu leh pa te chu British hun laia piang an nia, engmah an pe duh lo alawm.

Me: (so many follow-up questions, none of them to do with ECI!!) 

BLO: Phunchawng Petera a nih kha.

Sabathrama: Kaikuang ral ka nia.

Me: Sangha i man thei viau ami?

His kids: Man thei lo, a peih ve hrim hrim.

(Yuppp.)

Another note: if the bitchy magistrate we talked about earlier asks you where your birth certificate is, or why you entered Roll late, don’t tell her “Because I am poor,” or “Because I lived in a village at the time.” She has been to remote villages in the international border for these hearings, and has seen kids show up for election hearings, covered in grease from working in a garage, or in full forest gear with em and chempui, aged 18 or 19, and already working for a living, even their Birth Certificates dirty and tattered. They show up when they prioritise the Roll. And they are legit citizens.

All in all, what a strange and surreal time it was!

The Mizo World: Dances

In Mary Mount School, they taught me Chawnglaizawn. I forgot my partner. But I remember I was one of the lesser co-ordinated children. I have never really been good at synchronized movements. I did aerobics and Hollaback Girls choreography in Lady Shri Ram, the latter of which I hope to erase from memory like I erased all photographic evidences of it a year later. I learned Khuallam in JNU; I glory that I did not misstep but never again. 

That is my entire repertoire in dancing. 

Chawnglaizawn is a dance, I have since learned, that was primarily a Pawi/Lai dance. The most interesting bit about the dance is that it is performed on occasions that are polar opposites – one, to celebrate big game, but the interesting bit is the second occasion where it is a communal mourning rite where a husband dances to grieve his wife’s passing. For the former, male and female dancers stand in rows or in circular formation and use the traditional Mizo drum khuang to set the rhythm. I learned the row one. Us girls wore Hmaram and kawrchei and used a small pawndum shawl; I think the boys went shirtless, wrapped ngotekherh around their waist and used pawndum shawl as well. Chawnglaizawn makes me wonder if when we say “celebrate” big game trophies, we mean “give respect” to the dead animal. I only say that because my grandmother was very fond of saying the Leihang clan shared ancestry with tigers, hence tigers were our kin, hence if a tiger was killed, a Leihang must do right by its corpse and cover it with pawndum to mourn it, as one would a kin. I don’t really know.

The other dance I learned was Khuallam, which as the name suggests, is performed for guests. I don’t really know but going by the easy rhythms, I suppose anyone with half a beat – read, guests – can join in and have fun dancing. I think they performed it during Khuangchawi ceremonies, before the grand feast maybe, hosted by some big shot. This dance features khuang and darbu. And any Mizo attire, I think. When we did it, we wore a set of Pawipuan and the men went shirtless again and maybe wore ngotekherh around their waist. We used regular sized pawndum to wave around, I think. I might be mistaken. I also think we used those attires because they were readily available. I certainly did not wear my own.

I tried to learn Cheraw one time. My father and cousin were on the floor, all ready to clap the bamboos and set the rhythm. They were not good. They clapped my ankle. I have never approached again. Both my sisters are graceful Cheraw dancers though. Two out of three isn’t bad! The most fascinating thing about Cheraw is it is traceable historically, to 1st Cent. AD and possibly derived from agricultural rituals since quite a few of the moves mimic paddy cultivation and harvest. However, what is interesting about it is also that it was performed to ensure a safe passage for the soul of a woman who died during childbirth. Or alternately, the soul of a child; or maybe a stillborn, I am not that sure. Cheraw is the dance version of Puanchei; just as colourful and just as dominant. It is fitting that puanchei is the go-to attire for Cheraw. The men go shirtless again, maybe. They never seem to wear clothes when dressing in cultural attire.

A dance I enjoy watching but ultimately too introverted to try even learning has always been Solakia. AKA Sarlamkai. AKA Rallu Lam. Originally a Mara/Lai dance to celebrate military victories. I don’t know what the right attire for this is. As for music, maybe drums. I think the words mean the same with Solakia and Sarlamkai; the sar would come from sarthi – unnatural death, and lam is lit. dance; I don’t know what kai means other than maybe step/stepping into. A Great Hunter comes home with decapitated enemy head? Bring out the boys and girls, encircle the hero with the machete and the shield and dance, mock the dead, celebrate the hero. Maybe. 

A dance I know I can’t perform because I have no natural rhythm is Chheih Lam. It is the Mizo Tango. A man and woman mimic eagles courting mid-air, gracefully moving with outstretched “wings” and moving together, touching, then separating, coming back together again. Very romantic and shit. This one you can sing for. I believe it is associated with Puma Zai and Tlanglam. The one song I associate most with this dance is German Ral Run Hla which is a mournful tale of a man going off to war to fight the Germans, leaving on a train, bullets raining down everywhere, and his lover left behind to cry, I guess.

A dance I might be able to perform is Par Lam. Flower dance. Older ladies perform it and they wear their brightest clothes – puanchei and kawrchei easily. They wear flowers on their hair and ribbons on their hands or wrists. The movements are simple and a song plays in the background on speakers, so I guess the dance is very modern. The song selected is cheerful and usually Zotui Thiangte which is not about flowers at all, but rivers! 

I also know the choreography to Steps’ 5,6,7,8 and Spice Girls’ Stop. But those are not really Mizo dances at all. I know very little dance!

The Mizo World: Stars

If Orion’s Belt could help me navigate, I would be set. It is about everything I can identify with absolute confidence in the night sky. 

I saw a TV programme one time about stars as the Early Mizo knew them. I found it fascinating and even made a note on my phone to buy their book. When I was posted in Printing & Stationeries, a colleague Pu Muanchhana gifted the book to me. The book is called History of Astronomy of the Mizo People, put together by Lalrinkimi, Lalthakimi Zadeng, and Martin George. If you’re interested. Gem of a book.

Recently I have realized that as little as I know about these astronomical bodies, other people know even less than I do. So I want to blog about the few I do know. I’ll pick my Top Five.

Allow me to educate you.

It’s actually fascinating. We have to start at the beginning of a giant cosmic magic. During Thlanrawkpa Khuangchawi (this dude’s name has always been fascinating to me; does it mean “Grave Robber” or am I gravely mistaken? If I am, I’d love to be educated), an intense Darkness fell on earth. Thim Zing, as we call it. This Darkness, with a capital D, transmuted a shit load of things. One of which was in many parts of Mizoram (or the “known” world, let’s say), people and animals and things got changed into stars.

We’ll start with Orion’s Belt. Chhohreivung in Mizo is part of the constellation Orion where the “Belt” is the opening of the zuhrei hole. A jungle rat. Larger than ordinary rats. So the story is that a man dug a Zuhrei hole. What would be the left leg of Orion would be the “loose soil” dug from the rat-hole. Then he forgot his tinder – his meitalh – inside the hole; this would later form the small cluster that makes up Orion’s face. He returned to get it but was killed by a tiger. This was when the Darkness descended and everyone and everything, including rat hole and tinder, got swept away and changed into stars. I don’t know which stars are which humans because if Orion’s Belt is the opening of the rat-hole, the people must be nearby. And big. But who can tell? The logic of folktales is not the logic of physics.

Another cluster I can identify is Siruk. This is called Pleaides in astronomy. I always called it Siruki-te Unau. But some people know it as just Siruk. This is because there are two stories. 

The sister one is that a group of six brothers from the Sky courted a group of six sisters from the Earth. Courtship went awry with the jealousy of the Earth boys. In the kerfuffle, the sisters got turned into stars. There once was a seventh star – their dad. But he was weak and the wind blew him away, apparently. Logic of folktales, dear reader.

The second story is that there were six clay miners on whom a mine collapsed. Maybe when the Darkness descended. Let’s say it was. For the drama. And so they became stars. For this some people also call it Siruk Bellei Lai – for the clay miners.

Next we shall talk about The Big Dipper aka The Great Bear aka Ursa Major. Brother Bear probably know it as a bear. We know it as Zangkhua. I have no idea what it means; even the book fails to explain this to me. All it says it that a man called Kawlawia was killed and decapitated just as the Darkness fell and of course, his body was swept up and became the Big Dipper or Zangkhua. I know the expression well, though – zangkhua a la bungbu ang. You know, the dipper will flip. As in, the tables will turn. This fascinates me because the Big Dipper does flip. The bowl portion of the ladle does pivot and appear upside down at times. It even rotates in relation to the stationary Polaris. I understand and greatly appreciate the expression. I however don’t understand the connection with the Kawlawia story much. 

Hmar Arsi makes more sense to me. Polaris. This is in Ursa Minor. The Mizo called it Hmar Arsi lit. North Star because it is seen in the north; simple logic. It is also – very cutely, I might add – called Sisil. Polaris is observed as stationary. It does not move. The Mizo noticed this. So they thought it might be maimed, or tired, hence it does not move. It is sil, you know, can’t move because of muscle cramps. Extremely cute logic.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy said that Ford Prefect was from the planet Betelgeuse Five. This made me look up Betelgeuse and it made me inordinately happy to realise I could identify it, because it was part of the Orion constellation. It is a red giant star, so it is easily identifiable. If you remember the forgetful man who forgot his tinder at the rat hole and was killed by the tiger when he went to retrieve it? Betelgeuse is that tiger when it got transmuted into a star during the Darkness. The Early Mizo called it Sikeisen or Sisakei, for its redness that resembles a tiger’s coat. 

Today, a lot of people call Mars Sikeisen as well. Because it is also red. So there is that.

So there! Five stars! Next we shall talk about dances.

Maybe.

Here. I'll even sketch them for you. Go out and look up at the night sky.

Zangkhua and Hmar Arsi (The Big Dipper and Polaris)

Chhohreivung and Sikeisen in Orion with Siruk (Pleiades)

My Top Nineteen Movies

The last really good movie I watched was, I believe, The Sheep Detectives, 2026. It is a very silly little story. But it had so much heart in it. 

They don’t make movies like this anymore, I said to myself. And myself immediately replied: Oh dear god Esther you did not just sound a thousand-year-old right there!

Myself is probably right. But so am I. Lately movies are big and gorgeous and lovely and funny and so many things. I am a movie buff. The magic is very much alive for me. But also a lot of that magic today is CGI, or political humour (which if you’re not so inclined, can be a little off-putting), or polished to perfection and while brilliant as an escape, not things I would watch again and again.

I even watch the 10-minutes Recap versions of many movies on YouTube these days.

All this being said, I thought to myself, as I sit in the little server room at Agape Computer Institute playing Magistrate for NEET Exam, I should list out my top favourite movies.

And so, in no particular order, here are my Top Nineteen:

1. Nacho Libre, 2006: Everything about Nacho Libre is brilliant. I should go visit that dry-ass place one day and take pictures, wearing cream slacks and light blue T-shirt, and speak English with a heavy Mexican accent. Meanwhile, I shall consider dry rusk the heights of romance. Forget your Roman Holidays.

2. The Princess Bride, 1987: Very little is boring about The Princess Bride. The whole movie is simply so stunning and the cast is just perfect. The quotes are witty and lovely beyond compare. I shall watch it with my niece one day. 

3. Mean Girls, 2004: I have played Mean Girls as white noise while I studied MBA. This is the movie that made me realise how amazing editors and sound engineers are. Unfortunately, ever since Faridabad and Mean Girls white noise, I have been much more critical of every other movie. It is that fetch.

4. The Help, 2011: The atmosphere of The Help is just perfection – goofy, painful, serene, scary, wild… every part of it is gorgeous. Their America and my Mizoram are so different, but this movie activates my Sociological brain with every re-watch and unfailingly makes me rethink my society. And of course, the pie.

5. Flipped, 2010: This movie makes me feel like I am in a Little Archies comic book brought to life. Nothing like Archies, of course. But just the whole vibe. I think this serene, whitewashed version is what MAGA people think their country and life used to be like. And if so, I can’t blame them for wanting to go back to it. The movie is shot so beautifully. It makes you want to be in it.

6. Howl's Moving Castle, 2004: Hayao Miyazaki movies are always a 101% beautiful. But there are very little scenes – in Miyazaki’s world and beyond – that can compare to the Breakfast Scene at the castle. You know that. Right?

7. Monalisa Smile, 2003: For someone who graduated from what is sometimes referred to as the Wellesley of the East, Monalisa Smile is a must-watch and amazingly captivating. Their struggles, their discussions, their lives… worlds apart from my own. Yet at some abstract ideal levels, their problems are still very much a modern woman’s problem. Even now. Poignant. But beautiful.

8. The Sound of Music, 1965: My teenage years were defined by this musical. I liked it so much. It is only as an adult the Nazi implications finally set in. But I liked so much of the movie that even though I never really understood it, I love the movie. And the songs.

9. Lilo & Stitch, 2002: This movie is silly. Everything about it is silly and goofy and funny. I learned the word Ohana from here. And many Elvis songs. I can and have rewatched this movie time and again. I still love it. I love the story, the characters, the art, the music… I love this movie.

10. Steel Magnolias, 1989: I think the first time I watched this movie was in High School during movie night. Probably. I am happy that the cuppa-cuppa-cuppa recipe is trending on Instagram following Dolly Parton’s death. Because it took me back to that movie. That was a solid movie. Amazing.

11. Now and Then, 1995: Brendan Frasier as a hot soldier, Knock Three Times on a bicycle trip, girls v. boys, the girly world of pink, first kisses, forever friendships, stuffing bras… nothing does coming-of-age like Now and Then. This is brilliant beyond brilliant. 

12. Forrest Gump, 1994: It’s just comforting. Like a box of chocolates, perhaps.

13. Shrek, 2001: If you want to know if a song is good, check if it is on a Shrek soundtrack. If it is, it is a good song. Very good check. And Shrek flipped off traditional fairy tales in ways no one had done before and has been forever emulated since. Such a good movie.

14. Stepford Wives, 2004: In some ways, Stepford Wives is the complete dismantling of something like Flipped. And it is done so wonderfully. It is set in a very definite white Utopian society but like all good post-modern writing, it makes you question everything about your own society. And they do it with gorgeous people in it who don’t have a single strand of hair out of place. Lovely. 

15. The Gods Must Be Crazy, 1980: If some movies you love because of how beautiful they are, you love The Gods Must Be Crazy for how utterly un-glamorous it is. I watched it as a kid. Then I rewatched it as a Sociology student. What is a Coke bottle to you? Everything about this movie is brilliant. Everything.

16. Spirited Away, 2001: Natsume Yujinchou is one of my favourite anime series. Studio Ghibli's Spirited Away could fit nicely into this structure. Chihiro’s journey navigating the spirit world and this one is so gorgeously portrayed. I have to point out here how similar our versions of spirits, the Japaneese youkai and Mizo huai life seem to be. Ultimate comfort movie.

17. Men In Black, 1997: No other Will Smith movie would ever be as good as Men In Black, not even with dead CGI dogs. MIB was just so good. I have watched and rewatched it so many times. And it is still lovely even after the Nth re-watch. Just wonderful sci-fi. Makes you look at the moon and the stars in the night sky and make you want to go home to them. If you know what I mean. 

18. Breakfast at Tiffany’s, 1961: Big pearl necklace. Cigarette on a long stick. The perfect little black dress; in fact, the movie that introduced me to the concept of an LBD. Beehive hair. And Moonriver. 

19. The Pink Panther, 2006: Steve Martin is usually always watchable. But the chemistry he has with Jean Reno in this movie is unmatched. There is nothing I don’t like about The Pink Panther. It is that good.

My sister will swear by Titanic and I love that movie and my heart will go on for it yada yada but I'd choose any one of my list over it any day.

And I stopped at 19 which is an odd number and an odder number to choose for a list, but the exam was for 3 and a half hours and we ran out the clock. So Nineteen it is.

Hymnals

I was Chapel-in-charge as a 17 year old. This little bit of my history often comes as a surprise to some people who knew me only after I have attained my full-grown adult height that I am very bible-oriented and very spiritual. Not that I have changed overmuch (I mean I have but yk) but some people stereotype more than necessary. I am not very religious though and that has only fermented over time so I engage less and less with organized church as I get older. That is very true. But it is also true that my deep respect for the spiritual remains and in fact, has kept getting strengthened. Into what, is perhaps debatable.

When I was 17, though, through no fault of my own, I was expected to lead worship. So I learned guitar so I could lead song service. And also once in a while, I gave small sermons. I would sometimes make my own. Sometimes I would recall some other sermons I’d listened to, and regurgitate them. 

I did my duty even though I did not truly enjoy it. I do not think I am cut out to be a spiritual leader. I can see myself as a cult leader before a church leader. I feel I have the potential to devolve fast into that role as opposed to being an upstanding, mentally well-regulated, cool-headed non-sword-yielding church youth leader.

In any case, Chapel was every evening at 6 in our hostel. We attended it in our PJs. But on Sundays, we’d attend church service in an empty classroom at Ryan International School in Delhi’s Vasant Kunj. I believe ours was a Methodist church. The pastor was our Dean’s husband. He lived in her quarters in our girls’ hostel. We could have had our entire church services inside the confines of our girls’ hostel. But no. Come blistering heat or freezing cold of Delhi’s temperamental climate, and the general poor AQI of the Capital, they’d ship us out in a big yellow bus in “church clothes”. I still think it was stupid.

Possibly more performative and ceremonial than real service. Who knows.

I had nothing to do with the Methodist church, but because I was Chapel-in-charge in the hostel where the pastor resided, I was also sometimes assigned some roles in his Sunday Service. One of them was always to pass the Hymnals out before service. These Hymnals were the low-quality blue plastic covers variety. I was never alone for these duties though. Some of the girls were always Christian and nice about Service Labour. So they’d help out. We’d take the hymnals out from somewhere (dear lord, I can’t even remember from where!) and place them on every chair set out for the service. Then, after Service, we’d simply collect them again. You only ever needed to bring a Bible with you to church, if you were so inclined.

Something similar operated in the Seventh-day Adventist church I attended for three years in Roorkee. Daily morning service, daily evening service, Friday evening vespers, Sabbath School and I think two other services the same day… oh dear god, the sheer volume of services! You know, come to think of it, after graduating from high school, I’ve never attended youth service again. That aside, even in SDA service, we didn’t need to own a hymnal. 

On Sabbath services and the more churchy services, we had the Hymnals. Someone would have passed them around before church. The deacons, maybe. I always liked the feel of the hardbound maroon leather (rexin?) cover with the staff notation and the words so neatly typed in no-nonsense font on buttery paper. I liked those Hymnals. On other regular services, Mrs. Susan Chand would use a projector to guide us through the songs, electronically screening the lyrics directly on the vast yellow wall on the side of the main stage area. No hymnal required.

I say all this because my Church has come up with a new Hymnal. A revision of the old whose new edition has included Additions, and a resultant change in numbering.

I will have to buy it. You can argue with me till you are blue in the face that I am not obligated to. But you and I both know I will. It’s like tithe or offering. I am not obligated to give but I will. Not doing so would earn me Censure, as we might call it in Sociology. Not to mention create an avoidable inconvenience from using an Edition that doesn’t match what everyone else is carrying. Judging from my monthly salary, I can afford it. But I hate waste and I hate that my perfectly good Hymnal will now essentially be redundant in a few months. It will collect dust in some corner of my house. I don’t think I’ve turned all the pages. I don’t think my church has sung all the songs in it. We do have our favourite numbers.

Far be it from me to criticize church, but I just think it is wasteful. And lowkey burdensome on people who make less money than I do. (Again, far be it from me to suggest to people how to spend their own money). I simply can’t help thinking how wonderful it would be if churches just bought a shit ton of these Hymnals every time a new edition comes out and handed them out in church like we used to do it in Delhi and Roorkee. And have the few zealously devoted members buy their own copies, no issues. But the hymnals! 

(Sigh)

Driving

Driving is not very hard. 

You check your rear- and side-view mirrors properly, check that your hand brake is released, then put the keys in ignition; or push Start in the newer models. On a manual stick drive, you then press the clutch down, ideally move your gear into 1st, then release the clutch as you press down on the accelerator and off you go. If you want to go faster, you use smaller gears, and vice versa. You turn the steering wheel on the direction you want to go. You press the clutch down if you push your brakes so you don’t kill the engine abruptly. If you go downhill, ideally you use larger gears because the brake is stronger; greater torque, yk. Reverse gear is your good friend.

Driving well is a skill. But driving in itself i.e. making a vehicle move is not hard at all. The machines were designed by smart brains which means they can be operated by stupid brains.

Driving when other people are also driving is where the story gets tricky. The steeper the slope, the sharper the bend, the smaller the road, the worse the condition of the road, the trickier it gets.

Mostly all we expect from other drivers is courtesy. When people drive the city limit, keep to their sides of the roads, respect the road dividers, let the more urgent vehicles pass them by slowing down and moving to the side and signalling them when it is safe to do so (it’s just Physics, people!), obey traffic laws and traffic policemen, allow safe passage for pedestrians at zebra crossings, and send out regular indicators and blinks to let other drivers know which direction you will be taking, driving is safe. 

Basic courtesy, guys. Just that alone can carry you so far. 

If you’re driving downhill, it is more convenient for you to pause a bit so someone meeting you uphill can access a greater portion of the road than you; that’s basic mechanics. If you’re about to meet someone driving opposite you, it’s safer to slow down a little so the gravity of it all don’t mess anyone on either side; again, it’s just physics. If you’re negotiating a tricky, small, or bendy road, it saves everyone so much more time if someone not flash their ego around and pause a bit to let others pass rather than a whole negotiation where your vehicles are a centimetre apart; what does that really prove, anyway? 

There are other things as well. When dusk settles, there’s no need to suddenly rush; you’ll get where you’re getting in good time. When you’re driving in the dark, especially on rainy nights, check that your blue light is not on because, gentle reader, that means your high-beam is on and the person opposite you cannot see anymore. If you drive a two-wheeler, just because you can twist the vehicle a bit does not mean it is “small” per se; with its handles, a two-wheeler is roughly 2/3rd the size of a car; stop thinking you can squeeze in tight places easily without causing other people difficulty. Believe me, you are causing problems for people!

It is also worth noting, as my sister always says, to never be so good at driving you become bEtTer tHAn tHe tRaFfiC ruLes. Obey the traffic rules. They are just a list of common sense, listed down coherently as a Rule for everyone’s safety, yours included.

Happy driving, folks.

NB: There's a policeman who makes reels on Aizawl traffic. Very nice. Also all his videos have bigots on the comment sections LMFAO

From Bible to M&B Names

Leah in the Bible was unloved by her husband. Clearly a woman with issues. She had a few sons. With each of the firstborns, she hoped to win over her husband. The first one she named Reuben – See, A Son, she implored Jacob. The second she named Simeon – He Who Hears, she said, hoping Jacob can understand that God is on her side. The third she named Levi – Attached, she said, begging Jacob to be joined to her. At the fourth she seems to have given up on Jacob. Instead she turned to God. She said “This time, I will praise the Lord” and she named this one Judah – Praise, in other words.

Interestingly, it is this fourth son, the one that sealed her finally giving up on trying to please a man (or read Man, here?) and her turning to God instead, that God chose to be physically incarnated into, the lineage that gave Israel its kings, you know, David, Jesus, yada yada.

I find this really interesting. With names, basically. The Bible is rife with it. Many times, the names also changed with the equivalence to baptism. New names – from Abram to Abraham, from Jacob to Israel, from Saul to Paul. There is seriously strong symbolism with names.

My grandmother who named me said the God who holds power over time will create such a time for her; my mother thought a fitting Bible namesake would be Esther. Which is how I came to be Esther.

My clan was a sorcerer-priest clan. It was said we descended from tigers; by the by, a tiger being our totem animal, if we come across a dead tiger, a Leihang is expected to cover its dead body with the Pawndum, as one would a human. Our totem plant is the winter gourd. It was said our tongues were dark, as in with magic, or healing, or something else. Which is how I carry the name Leihang. So that’s my name.

During SIR Hearing, I came across a very interesting name: Folina. I’d never come across this name in ever. So while we waited for the internet to cooperate, I asked her what part of the world that name was from. She said she didn't know. Already stupidly invested, I asked her who gave her the name. She said grandma. Committed, I pressed on: did she find it in a novel or film, by any chance? She giggled sheepishly and whispered, Ya it’s from M&B.

I read a lot of M&B growing up. My cousin loved romance stories and she had a lot of them lying around. In college, I bought a lot of second-hand books that Delhi streets made readily accessible – a whole fun book for 25 bucks, come on, I was not going to pass that up. Even there, I’d never come across a Folina. 

I was very fascinated with this grandmother who read M&B and loved one character or name so much she gave it to her granddaughter. I’d like to meet her. Because this is something I can relate to. This is what readers do. Sometimes, characters or names or themes just impress us so much we have to find an outlet for them. 

At times, that is names, as it turned out.