Walking With A Beagle

I like walking. I've always enjoyed walking. Back in Champhai, I often walked the distance from Keifangtlang to Hmunhmelṭha and back in the morning, averaging 3Kms daily. Sometimes I'd take the North Khawbung road to make my trek a total of 5kms. Or when I was in Vengthar, round the block the way the cows come home; I didn’t exactly count steps then. In Aizawl, my walks were once from Armed Veng to Sikulpuikawn and then the much shorter Leitan Hermon Lane to ATC campus. In Aibawk, I often walked from Aibawk to Sateek, rounding off to 5kms on average; I had a pedometer at the time so I counted. It refreshed me and I truly enjoyed it.

A lot of people knew me for my morning walks. They also noticed that my pace was brisk and efficient. I am no athlete but I have always walked like one and have always enjoyed walks, even when I was not counting steps. I can walk. Can’t run for nuts though.

In Hnahthial, I got lazy and demotivated and have stopped all morning walks. It’s crazy how insane a place can make you. I never thought I would ever stop morning walks. But here, I had spent an entire year not taking morning walks until one fine day, I got a beagle pup.

After Mavena came home, I started walking again. Because the doctor said so. Apparently, beagles are very prone to obesity.

I walk, yes, but my walks are no longer brisk. Efficiency has also left the chat. In fact, my walks have become the very definition of irregular. These days, I walk the pace of my puppy. He likes to sniff, then run, then pee, then trot right by my legs grinning goofily up at me, then pee, then run, then eat grass, then trot jauntily, then freeze into position tails up like an antenna, then flirt at people, then poop, then sniff, then eat a discarded biscuit, then talk to other dogs, then pee. It’s like walking with a 11kg squirrel.

The concept of a pace does not exist with my dog.

It's very Bible of me, very Jesus to Peter. Peter-esque. Peter-adjacent. Very, you know, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go. That’s from The Gospel according to John 21:19. Walks with a beagle truly is not for someone counting steps or calorie-burns. It’s just a way to get fresh air and in the process, get up off the couch.

The one with the leash is him, though. Although, again, technically I suppose both of us are on the leash together. Most importantly, Mavena is always most definitely never off-leash. I tried once. He ran off to chase a dog and ended up lost in a neighbour’s garden. His silly floppy ears whipped in the wind when he saw me, and manic with joy at having been found, ran to me. Goofy stupid idiot.

Walking with Mavena is like being on an adventure. It's sometimes nerve-wrecking. It also poses the challenge of scooping up poop. Very smelly business.

But it's also a bit like the phrase ‘stopping to smell the roses’. Mavena doesn't have a particular affinity to flowers except that he seems to really enjoy the taste of Ṭawkpui leaves and some grass. But he definitely stops to smell Life. He smells the traces of other dogs and potential friends (I think), follows the aroma of food (always with the food with the beagle!), and searches for possible fun (he is so ready to have fun!).

You know how white people say "walk" and their dogs understand the word? Mine understands "bye bye" as me leaving for a walk. Mavena can go from a sleeping and snoring beagle at 0% energy to hearing me tease him with a "bye bye" and instantly rev up to 100% pure chaotic energy, crying, pleading, negotiating, the works. He never seems to understand that I walk because I walk him. That whatever walks I take, I wouldn’t take without him.

But every morning we do this song and dance routine of me testing him with a bye bye as I change into my walk outfit. It amuses me, so sue me. I have very few joys in life. By the time I put on my sneakers, Mavena is near the end of his tethers, arguing against the injustice of why I am trying to leave him (he is very dramatic). When I put his jacket on him and clip the leash on, his tail is nearly invisible from wagging so hard. Undiltuted joy. He always snatches the end of the leash from me and would walk himself at least 10 steps out of the door. Until I take over the leash. It's a lowkey fun tradition.

I'd never have thought this irregular walk could ever be remotely fun because there really is no rhyme or method to our walks. Pure manic chaos. We go where his beagle nose leads us. I just time us and we go back in an hour. Or we run home if it rains. That is the very loose structure on which my walks have now become based. 

Walks are so chaotic today. And I realise that as my life has become so mundane, structured, unvarying and my world so limited, I like how there's a little bit of pure beagle chaos in this one section of my life.

Snehana Prithana

Snehana Prithana is a Kannada movie. I watched it in a local theatre in Mysore. I did not understand a single word. I knew before going in the Hall that it was a remake of the Hindi film Ishq, so I was not that concerned with understanding dialogues.

What was I doing in Mysore that I had enough free time to watch a movie in a Cinema Hall? I do not even remember the year – shit, I am old! – but my LSR Sociology Class had gone to Mysore to do fieldwork for our final grades. I think my chosen topic was something to do with religion because I have always been obsessed with the impact of religion in society. 

Gunjan was my study partner; we’d chosen similar fields. We visited a lot of holy places. We took off our shoes plenty of times; I did not enjoy those because I hate going barefoot, especially in unfamiliar places. My partner in crime however was Mamu. So it was with Mamu I found myself paying something like 60 rupees to watch a Kannada movie that neither of us understood. On the big screen, no less.

Please do appreciate that I never would watch a Kannada movie (without subtitles no less) on any smaller screen variance. There is just something lovely about metaphorical larger than life characters that are displayed literally larger than life onscreen that just makes everything magical for me. I even sat through Gulliver’s Travels in 3D one time and while even today I find it pointless to watch a fat Jack Black get red and bumpy and peeing into the ocean as I did while I was watching it, I do not regret it. I mean I watched Love Story 2050 on the big screen at Batra. There’s no coming back from there. Not for me and not for Priyanka Chopra, I don’t think.

The funny thing is I do not remember anything about Snehana Prithina. But I do enjoy telling the story because it is one of the weirdest flex I have. Who else do you know who would sit through 2 and a half hours during a movie they do not understand on the Big Screen not only voluntarily but also would willingly pay for it? Not many people at all.

It’s not a good flex. It’s just one, is all I am saying.

I think we were in Mysore for two weeks. 

I fell in love with Mysore Pak there. I can’t eat very much of it anymore but it is one of my top favourite Indian sweets, running a tight race with local rasgolla when in West Bengal (but not the tinned ones), chamchams, kalakand, gajar ka halwa and kaju barfi. That would be a funny race; I can see it being sponsored by diabetes. I also fell in love with “set dosa” which I think is how pancakes should taste like but fall short of. I ate it for breakfast every single day for the entire duration of our stay. I also fell in love with filter coffee; Urban Cafés will serve you fancier looking coffee but I think South India makes better coffee. 

I did not fall in love with much else. It is very humid in Mysore. Also they make you take your shoes off in way too many places. I do not enjoy that. 

I did visit Srirangapatna and climbed 600+ steps and that’s another flex. I also visited Ooty from there which was pretty and I had fun, but it rained so that was less fun. I also visited Brindavan Gardens and ordered a local charcoal BBQ fish but also nearly missed the local bus so Mamu and I ate the full flavoured, right-up aromatic BBQ fish wrapped in a leaf at the back of the last bus and felt appropriately shamed in what felt like a bus full of vegetarian locals. Mamu and I tended to do that. I remember on the college trip to Kasauli, we ate over-ripened Cheeku in the bus and it smelt like booze and everyone thought it was booze and there were whispered gossip in the bus over our indulgent driver and Mamu and I just silently let the poor man take the fall for our own secret fruit indulgence. Pardon, good sir. 

In our defence, when our teacher said “Please pack enough snacks because there won’t be places to buy more”, we took it to mean for the entire trip. Which was extremely stupid because of bloody well course there would be shops in Kasauli. But she and I went to Amar Colony and bought juice, nuts, chips and fruits to take with us to Kasauli. We crammed our clothes in one bag and packed one bag full of snacks. When at the bus we discovered Bhavna Ma’am had meant snacks for the night because our night bus would not make pitstops, we felt so embarrassed we decided to eat the whole haul. Which was again stupid because there was a lot of snacks in the bag! And juice. And fruits. We reasoned at least we can eat the fruit. Hence.

It is a very weak defence I know but take it as “explanation” maybe. I only remember the Kasauli Trip for two things because of this. One, the very heavy snacks bag that we carried around stacked on top of our clothes bag, because the weight of the two bags was very uneven. We were joined at the hip because we carried the two bags together between the two of us because it was our shameful secret because nobody would have believed anyone would be that stupid to think Kasauli would not have anything to eat ever and they would laugh at us. Nobody really cared much because Mamu and I lived out of each other’s pockets at the time anyway. But we carried the bags and the secret together. And quietly brought all the Amar Colony snacks back with us again because weirdly enough, there was food in Kasauli. Two, the sweet corn is very expensive in Kasauli.

Mysore, though? Good food. I’d gone back in 2019 as part of my MCS training. I was a more experienced traveler at this point. And I visited a mall this time. I did not have set dosa. I did not drink filter coffee. I had Mysore Pak though because I was determined to; the bus nearly left without me because I was waiting for my Pak order.

Seems to me I don’t do well with Mysore buses.

Strange take-away. Life is very random. So is this blog.

Pawisa Enkawl leh Nunphung

MBA ka zir laiin kan zirtirtu pakhat hian thingpui break ah titi pahin Savings/Investment tip hmasa ber chu “Live one step below your means,” a ti ṭhin a, sawi nuam a ti khawp a. A Mizo takin tlin phak bak aia hniam hretin nun zir tur, tih hi mi ka hrilh ve phah ta fo bawk a.

He pa hian sawi nuam a tih leh em em dang leh chu “Only lend out money you will not miss if it never comes back to you,” tih hi a ni a. I hmuh let loh pawha pawi i tih loh chin chauh pawisa mi puk tir rawh, tih hi midang pawh ka hrilh ve ṭhin.

Thil pahnih sawi chuan pathumna awm lo hi a kim lo riau thin a. Lungthu kim nan hrim hrim enge thil dang a sawi thin bawk aw, tih ka ngaihtuah a. 

Ka hriatchhuah belh chu NIFM Faridabad campus ah a chen tirh khan ka zirtirtupa hi chhangthawp lei turin a chhuak a. Chhangthawp man a daih lohna cheng 5 hi Dawr-I khan a lo bat tir phal lo a, Dawr-II khan a lo phal thung a. Kum 20 chuang NIFM ah hian ka awm ta a, Dawr-II chiah hi ka dawr ta ngat ngat a, staff leh students lo awm thar apiang hnenah Dawr-II hi an fel, tih ka hrilh ziah bawk, a ti a. “Hehe” a ti ṭhin.

A 3-na hi chu Mizo tak chuan, Ṭawngkam ṭha in sial a man, tih hi a zirtir ber chu a ni tawh mai thei a ni. Strict taka teh chuan Ṭawngkam em em ai mah chuan Chezia a ni zawk ang a. Mahse business ṭan tur tan chuan ṭawngkam ṭha hliak hliak in mi a hneh loh chinah pawh Chezia-in investment a siam theih a ni, ka tihna ber a nih chu. Dawr-II in pa pakhat cheng 5 a puk tir kha ka pu khan a let tam takin a rul tihna te pawh a ni bawk ang chu. Business investment hi chu Mimal/Personal investment nen a inang chiah lo deuh bawk a. Pawisa kan puk tir dawn a nih chuan tunge kan puk tir tih leh eng zat nge kan puk tir, tih ngaihtuah a ṭha, tih te pawh a zir theih ang. Zirtir a va ngah si tak.

Pawisa enkawl hi thiam tak tak a har khawp a. A thiam tam tam hian an duh tam zel mai bawk a. Tawk chin neih a awm lo a. Mahse ka tawnhriat ve chinah nunphung leh Nun hlohna lo chin zel hi a lo thlanawm ṭhin in ka hria. Pawisa lakluhna awlsam chu a chhuak leh hma, tih te pawh hi a lo dik khawp a. Hun pangngai lo deuh hlek han tawha kan nghin nghal vek lohna tur tawk te te khawl a tihpun erawh hi chu mahni phak tawkah chuan tum ila a ṭha. Engemaw zawng chuan a Bible thu hla riau mai bawk a. Talent kawl tam leh peipung tam hnenah chuan pek belh zel kha a ni tlat a ni.

Hmanni ah ka ṭhiannu in mi ṭhenkhat puk chawpa Inkhawmpui Kawr lei te, installment a perfume lei te, ba a Hydra Facial leh eyelash extension ti te a hriat thu min hrilh a. Mi ṭhenkhat ba ngata zu lo rui mai mai te ka hre fo bawk nen, ka pu hian a ngaisang awm lo hlawm mang e aw, tih ka ngaihtuah phah ta a. 

 

Ba hrim hrim hi Hamlet-a drama-a Polonia-an a fapa Laertes-a thu a chah, “Neither a borrower nor a lender be,” tih ngawt kha chu Sorkar ah emaw Business ah emaw Mimal ah emaw theih loh chin a awm a. Mizo ṭawnga William Shakespeare thawnthu let tu JF Laldailova’n, “Mi hmuhsit tur khawpin lo lungngai suh la, incheina kawngah fimkhur la. I neih phak bakin inchei ngai suh la. Inpuktawnna hi ngaihsamna lantirtu ah ngai tlat ang che. Denmark ram lal upa min, i pa, Polonia hming hi tichhetu ah ṭang ngai suh ang che,” tiha a lo dah mai kha pawm a nuam viau in ka hria. A hun leh hmun milin pawisa enkawl dan te, awmdan hrim hrim pawh hi zir a lo fuh.

Chhangthawp man cheng 5-a min tlawm thei tu chu min tlawm duh miah lo tu ai chuan kan dawr nawn ve tho mai thei a ni. Ni em?

Powerful Words

Taking off from my last, I don’t have any. Powerful words, I mean. I am not an eloquent speaker and I write sad little humour pieces. However, I do enjoy reading the works of people greater than I am who’ve come up with a more impactful combination of words and also just generally exercise greater velocity on the same words better than I do. I also plagiarise them sometimes on social media posts. Or nicer, paraphrase them. Or credit them if I feel guilty. I just say to myself: it’s not like you have a huge platform and you aren’t going to infringe on their property rights.

IDK.

Moving on. I like the idea of making grand statements like society is the best of us and also the worst of us. Which is to say society is what will hold us together when we fall but also that which will not allow individual growths. Which is fine until you realise that advancements in technology and science and arts in general tend to happen when individuals grow on their own. So society will preserve and protect the conventional and reject the outlier until the outliers become the norm but that takes a long time to do so. And so society is the best and the worst of us. Lovely paradox. Lovely words when phrased thus.

Paradoxes aren’t what makes words powerful though. Words have immense potential in them to hurt and to heal. Where the absence of words itself can also mean assent, you have to marvel at just how powerful words are. 

So I’m done with that bit. I have a little nit to pick though. Let’s see if I can bring it around to words. I bet I can.

So I walk my dog. And it is true what they say that beagles are escape artists. They will find ways to escape. And one-track minded creatures that they are, it is hard to bring them back around. Which is why it is highly inadvisable to take the leash off unless you are absolutely certain you can contain your beagle – either physically or for example, if they’re with another dog that you can call to you. Proxy calls, if you will.

It’s nice to meet people who appreciate dogs, and it’s nice to meet other friendly dogs on these walks. When we meet them, we often stop so Mavena can play with them and I let the leash go as long as it can but I never take it off. Most people say: Oh you’ve got a friendly dog. But some people will add: It wants to play, why are you holding him back? Just let him play. 

Excusez-moi, dear sir (because, dear reader, it is always a sir, never a ma’am), if I let the leash off and he wanders off, will you help me leash him back again? If I let the leash go and he gets lost and doesn’t know how to return, will you help me find him? If I let the leash go and the play turns violent, will you help me contain a dog fight? If no, kindly shut your fuck up.

A nit, yes. And duly picked, as illustrated with a recent sore memory. But also conveyed to say: don’t say more than you need to say, especially if it is advisory in nature and it is to strangers. Perhaps unless it is to say something like: don’t go down this road because there’s jhum fire and you might burn in it. Then always say. But otherwise, if it is not in good faith, shut your trap. 

It’s like how people can’t simply say: she’s pretty. I know a friend of mine who are three sisters (like us, too, but this story is about them). And they all have very different facial features. And people just never simply say one of them is pretty. It is always “she’s prettier than her sisters” or “her sister is prettier than her”. Why?

Words heal. Words harm.

Very powerful.

The Right Words... but When?

Words are powerful. Or can be. Depends how you use them.

I always try to limit any speech or lecture I make to 30 minutes. I do not believe the modern human is capable of active listening for more than that time frame. It is pointless to continue to try to drive points home past 45 minutes max. With some AV aid, you could retain attention for slightly longer I suppose, but really not that much more. When the human brain has started believing that information should be given out in the format of reels that go from 15 to 30 seconds, even one solid minute of information is too long. Going from there, a lecture that goes beyond an hour is a touch too long.

To be perfectly clear, this is not me saying I am good at lectures and that people listen to me. On the contrary, it just means I try my best to limit me torturing people with information. Because when it comes to me making speeches, there’s no decoration. And that’s not very oratorical of me.

The youngest of my sibling bunch Samuel is the same way. He flounders and hems and haws and listening to his public speeches just makes me tired. But give him a comfortable chair, some leg room, and space-time to converse, and he can chat up a storm. He is brilliant at that.

Conversely, the eldest of our bunch Eli is the exact opposite. Never give her space to chat. She’ll be your biggest supporter, repost your quips and quotes, and have the time of her life tagging along on your most random plans and trips. But if you ask her to tell you a story in conversation, she will leave you hanging; you and the punch-line, to be honest. There have been many times she has told me stories only for me to repeat it to people so they can follow. Because she can’t tell it properly herself. However, give her a platform and a topic and she will be like a statesman on the go. Very weird.

Feli, my younger sister, has been known as the crab, the turtle or the snail of the family, when we were growing up. Because her stubborn ass can maintain stoic silence for days. Come to that, she can also sit in between the driver and passenger seats of a Gypsy for a 10-hour journey and never utter a single sound of discomfort. Born stubborn. One fine day, however, the caterpillar became a very chatty butterfly and now it’s all we can do to shut her up. Became a lawyer and everything. Jabs and quick one-liners are her specialty and she delights in her own mind. Weird for someone who was mostly silent her entire childhood.

Me, I write. Whether I am good or not is not my concern; I just throw it out on the internet. I know I am better at it than speaking, at any rate. My speeches and lectures are mostly limited to government platforms and those are very specific topic-oriented and very often extempore. Like I said, hardly ever decorative. Not the least bit fancy. Any improvement is glacial especially considering where I was in 2017 when I first started public speaking in Mizo and I’d stop mid-sentence in front of a crowd because I could not think how the sentence was supposed to proceed. Glacial, yes but all in all, good, I hope. Any progress is progress and all that.

When we were younger, dad would divide us four into two groups and make us debate. We sucked. Mostly because none of us are very competitive and had no desire to win any evening debate. Besides, my partner was usually Samuel and as previously demonstrated, he could barely speak. Also he was in kindergarten, I think. Not a strong partner. Dad would go mad trying to get us to talk, but when even forcing us to be polite and say “Good morning Uncle” or “Good evening Auntie” was the beginning of World War Z, debates were out of the question. I could have told him that. Anyway, in the end, he gave in and settled for us reading. Comic books, as starters. The man really gave up. But all of us decided to up our game as public speakers as adults so maybe there was something there, after all. Maybe.

Words are an inexhaustible source of magic. I will talk about this in my next blog. I just wanted to say words can be powerful. They have so much potential. But sometimes, we just don’t use them right.