Siamthangi Hauhnar was my Madonna. My sister and I thought she was out of this world. She was edgy. She was cool. She was pretty. She wore deep lipstick and lined her eyes. Her hair was so huge. She wore highly fashionable clothes. My sister and I loved her. To paraphrase Sabrina Carpenter, it was probably because she was a singer.
One day, my dad took us to meet her at her house because they’d met at some function or the other and he’d told her about these two little skinny girls idolizing her and she said to bring them over some time. I don’t think we told her we were coming the day we actually did it though. Courtesy of house-visit rules were always a little sketchy back in the day. But that was OK because we got to meet her.
Many years later, my dad would again take us both to meet another woman related to the music world. This time it was Pi Sailovi. This had more ceremony though. He knew her and her family properly. He'd told her about his daughters and she was amused but agreed to meet us. She received us as proper houseguests. Also it was a Sunday afternoon so the visit felt more formal. For those who don’t know, she is the titular muse of Matehawngi. We chatted with her over tea and biscuits. She told us about her boyfriend at the time who wrote that song for her. She told us about how they arranged the music; she thinks they borrowed the tune from some old English song. She told us about when she was a young girl and how different life had been at the time. We took pictures. I loved that meeting!
For people who don’t know my dad, this is very out of character for him because he doesn’t sing. He cannot remember any lyrics. He can barely hold a tune. Most church worship where we sing hymns, he sings Air in a lower, deeper register and pretend it’s Bass. He thinks all Jim Reeves and Boney M songs are Christmas songs. Which is why I’ve always thought that the way you show you listen to people is when you act on them. Just saying. Acts of love, some people sometimes call it. Whatever it was, we met Matehawngi!
Speaking of acts of love, one day, my mum handed me this one beat-up old book that she thought I might like. Pink cover torn at some corners and whose print was more Cyclostyle than computer. The barely legible cover print said it was called Omnus. It was a tiny book and since this was the woman who had introduced me to books that I have not regretted reading, including the Bible, Jack & The Beanstalk and Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I sat down to read. Omnus by C Laizawna remains today my favourite Mizo fiction novel. Ever. One day Chhana took me to go meet C Laizawna at his residence. He was very surprised. We talked over tea and he told me how he wrote that story. He signed my beat-up old copy and gifted me his other book Anita, a favourite of my cousin Avala. My mum who does not indulge in fantasies and believes reluctantly in spirits but not ghosts, who holds virtually no superstitions, who thinks fairy tales are a general waste of time, read this book about UFO and aliens and thought of me and took the time to purchase the book for me. Acts of love, I believe, we said?
The most recent of me meeting my heroes is the time I met Tuipui D’s Pu Biaka, the comic who told tall tales of his hunting prowess and affairs with wood nymphs. His mastery of Story-telling was bewitching. I am awed by his ready wit and matter-of-fact delivery. The first time I got news I was going to be in Hnahthial, he was one of the first persons that came to mind. I’d blogged about meeting him and he is also the inspiration to this one again. Meeting heroes is sometimes a lot of fun! Just don’t be a bitch and expect them to be perfect. Pobody’s nerfect.
I am very glad that these have happened to me because it’s funny to me how they happen. There are so many interesting people in this world. I love the idea that these artists who are worlds apart in their trades have created art of the sort that is so engaging that a mundane old soul like mine have come in their contact. Art is how we tell people they are not alone, that someone else also feels what they feel, even if we are separated by time and space. Art is what gives us escape and consolation when Life becomes too much for us. Art is what makes us human.
Some days, art is all we have to get through a day. Or a kitten. But mostly art. And that’s quite a good thing!
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