FOMO – FIFA ed.

In Mizoram, we have different modes of reference. One is FIFA World Cup. As in, where were you last World Cup Finals? 

I say FOMO but it’s not exactly a true Fear Of Missing Out as it is a mild inconvenience and negligible irritation. It’s a hassle explaining to people that I do not enjoy sports and even in Harry Potter, I skip over the Quidditch parts; same with Krikkit in Hitchhiker’s Guide. Also when you say you don’t enjoy sports, you don’t come off sounding good. So it’s just easier to sit and watch the World Cup finals.

Which I did, although the match was a little boring and I didn’t stay up for the majority of the second half. Even so, this is a list of what I knew about the 2026 FIFA World Cup:

1. Erling Haaland: Reels.

2. I recognized the following people onscreen at the Finals (aka the only match I saw): Matt Damon, Tom Cruise, Donald and Melania Trump, Madonna, Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Shakira, Justin Bieber, the Coldplay guy, BTS, and Messi.

3. The Spanish Goalkeeper lowkey looks like Taylor Swift’s husband.

4. I enjoy both the bouncing little FIFA football emoji that has been active on WhatsApp since the start of the World Cup season, as well as the bouncing regular football emoji when you “like” someone’s WhatsApp status.

5. Mizo memes w.r.t. the season.

6. I never knew a Coach could be Yellow-Card-ed. What happens if you give them a Red?

7. It is Erling Haaland’s first WC; Messi and Ronaldo’s last.

8. A little baby Messi bathed defeated him so this is basically a football version of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort.

9. Trump ran his mouth against Spain and when Spain won, tried to incorporate himself in their celebration. Shameless. But not the fun shameless like Britney Spears’ Piece of Me lyrics.

10. It is on nights like this that P&E and service providers are probably sweating because so much depends on them because nobody will notice their work to make things happen but will curse them to feckin’ Sheol if the light or the internet gives out. Also, this reminds me how capitalism forces people to find roundabouts instead of taking the government to task so it is in a government’s interest to promote a little capitalism. Case in point, last night: for a bit, the power went out, but most of us had back-up power because this is our roundabout; instead of forcing the government to provide us uninterrupted power, we will prefer to use our own money and buy us the power. Little economics. IDK if you agree.

11. Government of Mizoram, and I think Meghalaya and Kerala – you football states – decided to give their employees a half day. Some people said it was useless since it is not even happening in our turf. But the government can give so little motivation to its employees. Let us enjoy a half-day because of FIFA World Cup 2026.

12. My beagle Mavena did not understand anything but he was super excited to stay up till late at night with everyone in the house and eat from 12 midnight to 3AM because usually he’s not allowed to eat from 6PM onwards.

13. As per everyone, Messi and Ronaldo have toxic fandoms. But I know for a fact that if a fandom is not a little toxic, it’s not worth very much to be in them. Exhibit A: Swifties. Or don’t even get me started on Whovians and Potterheads. All fandoms are a little toxic; they are voluntary In-Groups and Out-Groups. It is what is fun about fandoms. One of my fandoms is where we all pretend to be ants in an ant colony; it is very tame, nothing happens there, and I often forget about it, too. Not one day passes when the internet doesn’t remind me of toxic Swifties. Fandoms are toxic. The slight toxicity is what gives it kick. 

Like alcohol, actually! 

Cheers!

For The Love of Stand-Up Comedy

I hope we get Mizo Stand-Up Comedians one of these days that can do a 20 minutes to an hour set, in Mizo or English or Minglish I don’t care but it’s about a Mizo experience, and it is not about “There is this one guy…” which is how Mizo comedians tell jokes but yk the story might be funny and I’d laugh but I would still always prefer self-referenced comedy and I think I’d find the joke funnier if you convinced me “the guy” was you or maybe your friend, someone with a name, the Martin to Gabriel Iglesias, yk.

That’s a really long sentence. If you read that without taking a breath, take one now.

I like comedy. My favourite ones tend to be, like I mentioned, the self-referenced ones, the first person narration, and if it is self-deprecating, it is even funnier to me. What that says about me IDK; you make of that what you will. 

I think presently my favourite stand-up comedian is Trevor Noah who Atu and Momo introduced me to, with the Zambian Escalator joke. He has smart comedy. I even bought his book "Born A Crime" and read it; quite enjoyable. Back in college, I was, as were most Englosh speaking Millennial Indians, partial to Russell Peters; somebody gonna get a-hurt real bad, yk. And then later, Fluffy.

Recently I’ve started listening to Indian stand-up comedy in English and am thoroughly enjoying some of the sets. I even have favourites now. My current favourite is Shamik Chakrabarti who got me hooked with the story of how he lost his laptop one night. I could relate! Especially with the policeman training him how crime is investigated in India, and how most office passwords are Admin123. I know some of your office WiFi passwords are exactly that. Or yk, Admin1234.

Or his muse on how Indian parenting somehow trains you to be "sickeningly honest" that you find yourself a sleeper cell, reporting on yourself to your parents. They don’t know you bought a laptop, but you somehow find yourself telling them you lost the laptop they didn’t know you bought, so that now the only outcome is you are forever the Laptop Loser. Hilarious. Because it happens.

The school bus driver story, the Karnataka tiger reserve, the buying a Hall AC for a one bedroom house, the auto charge of 77INR… I play them over and over; relaxes me while it amuses me. 

A close second would be Niveditha Prakasam who’d wryly ask you if you knew that people with generational wealth looked just like us? Or how from Tamil Nadu, everyone else is a North Indian, much to the possible chagrin of Mumbaikers and Bangaloreans, maybe. I laughed hard at how she described her sexual awakening and exploration of it, and how it connected to IRCTC booking!

Laughed too, at how Hollywood, unlike Bollywood, preferred the dark-skinned Indian girls to represent India but how they also get it wrong and then you have two Tamil girls representing Indians in Bridgerton and their names were “Sharma”. Chagrin of thw fair-skinned Sharmas, maybe.

Then there is Somnath Padhy who I started to listen to because of his hilarious set on Vitamin D Deficiency. Because I was researching Vitamin D deficiency on Google, perhaps. Algorithm, yk. His relatable stories include Indian classrooms, frogs v. cockroaches, engineering over MBBS, and electrical engineers at war. Hilarious. 

In Mizo, I think comedy form is theatre drama over stand-up. All our stand-ups are basically people telling a series of jokes, but not exactly as a set. Which is what is missing from our stand-ups. Even so, my favourite Mizo comedian used to be Thangkura drama party; I memorized the drama too back in cassette days, because I listened to them so much. I also enjoyed Leikhi Miss even though that was highly slapstick. In contemporary Mizo comedy, I really enjoy the more cerebral and dry humour of Chhara and Mastea. A little earlier, the drama of Zephyr comedy club, headlined by Mapuia. Fun. I also truly enjoy Tleua and gang. 

I believe I enjoy them because these performances come in a larger picture scenario with their own Titles holding the whole set together, I think. And also because they are a reflection and contemplation of Mizo society, without being preachy, and I enjoy that. I even prefer a sermon that is delivered as a funny musing over the Hell Penalty ones. 

But again, not exactly stand-up. I truly hope we get those soon. I am pretty sure the next gen will be up to the task. IDK about reception though. Maybe I’m the only weirdo who enjoys stand-up comedy so much she is hoping to listen to a Mizo/Minglish set soon. IDK. Could be.

I leave you this time with an advice from Somnath Pathy: if you are going to drink and drive in India, do it during the day because the police don’t have their device; they’re charging it for the night.

When 1 + 1 ≠ 2

One plus one is not always two. 

There is a fundamental flaw in teaching people abstract concepts without letting them know that these are abstract concepts that have real life implications and applications. That they are not real in and of themselves. These persons grow up finding it hard to navigate life because they don’t know how to reconcile what they know with what Life shows them. 

One is a concept. Two is a concept. Numbers are concepts. You need to define them. You need to set parameters for them to make sense. You need to be able to say one watermelon plus one watermelon makes two watermelons. This is probably why that person in your Mathematics textbook bought so many watermelons.

If you are presented with incompatible objects, say if you add one orange and one apple, you don’t get two oranges or two apples; you get an orange and an apple. However, if you add one fruit and one fruit, you get two fruits. Your units need to be compatible. Otherwise you get nonsense.

Or if you take indistinguishable objects, like a drop of water. One drop of water plus one drop of water gives you one drop of water, albeit larger. You don’t get two drops of water. Or laundry, perhaps. You add your pile of laundry to your sister’s pile and then you get one larger pile of laundry, not two.

If you want to get philosophical, two votes merge into one concept or a compromise maybe. Or two votes can produce a tie.

Or forget philosophy, even in Economics, when one business and another business joins, they become a merger, a synergy, a joint venture. A single unit. Or sometimes three. Think of your Google plus Android, is that two? Or one? Or Disney plus Pixar – somehow this becomes philosophically a quantum economics unit where it is owned by one, but function like two! Or your Instagram plus Facebook – is that Meta, or two platforms?

There was a joke in mathematics about how 1 + 1 in base 2 is 10 but I am too unfamiliar to get the joke for it to be funny in that I needed it to be explained and please, no joke that requires an explanation is any longer truly funny. But for this blog, the joke holds. Again, there are calculations where even abstract numbers don’t always hold. If you add 1.4 and 1.4, which are still technically read as 1 each becaus they get rounded down, you get 2.8 which you have to round up to 3, so now 1+1=3.

Or in Marital Maths, where on the one hand, you have one human plus one human and you get what is considered One Couple now. Paradoxically, at the same time, the addition of these two persons also end up not just 1 but also simultaneously, two entire khandaans so I don’t know how big your families are, but one plus one equals a hell lot more than two persons!

I think my entire obsession with this contention that 1+1≠2 always is that these days I have been noticing people who can’t seem to work with Context. 

Context matters so much, you guys. Without it, your frame of reference gets all screwed up. You search for black and white where there are only greys. If you teach yourself or some poor sod under your guardianship that one ball plus one ball equals two balls, they’ll understand and apply the same logic elsewhere and understand. If you just force them to accept that one plus one equals two, they’ll remember the equation but application in real life will frustrate them. If they don’t know why it is frustrating, which is to say they don’t know where or what the problem is, they can’t work towards a solution. You can’t score a goal if you don’t know what you’re shooting at. When you must perform a one plus one equation, you have to know exactly what units you are working with! Otherwise logic falls flat. Reason will fail you. 

In Sociology, we talked about Ideal Types. These are not ideal as to mean they are perfect. They are Ideal by way of saying they are the highest abstraction of a Standard of Measure so that you can examine real life characters using them. 

We talked about Bureaucracy because Max Weber talked about bureaucracy. He’d say Bureaucracy is defined by a strict hierarchical structure, with clear division of labor, written rules and formal procedures, impersonal, hiring and operations being merit-based. That’s what a Bureaucracy is to you too, no? But think of your office, your organization, your church, your society. Do you still think it? Yes but now you see how there is an Ideal Type and how Real Life deviates from it? Basic. Fundamental. More people need to learn this, IMHO.

One plus one, I contend therefore, is not always two.

Top Three Lessons From Seniors

The most fun things I’ve learned from seniors don’t go on this list because some of those things are questionable and might not even be wholesome. I definitely know some are not exactly purely technically entirely legal.

There are things though that I have learned and unlearned from seniors. Not surprisingly, most of those things I have learned that have stuck with me are things they actively taught me by action. Words, too, sure, but anyone can say anything. I can tell you exactly how to moonwalk but that does not mean I can show you how to. Because I don’t know how to.  

So bully for words. They don’t mean shit. Unless it is how over time you learn to read between lines and then you learn how to hear what it is they are not saying and then you learn. But that is politics. I am not good at it. I still hit with a blunt object.

The lesson I remember most often is: Usually if we are still angry over something or someone after three days, our anger is legit; otherwise, it might be The Moment, so it is good to mull things over. I remember this most because I blow up quickly. I have a temper. I have tried to follow this advice once or twice. And the funny bit is that even if you’re right to have gotten angry, after three days, the fuel of it all is usually spent. 

The second lesson is: We need to remember that we are in public service and whatever call we make must be made in good faith so as to cause the least inconvenience to the public. This has made me less of a stickler for ruthless discipline and more a disciple of a rule I have always followed since childhood – it’s alright to bend a stick if you don’t break it. I suppose I have always been the type to follow the spirit and not the letter.

The third lesson is not anything anyone said to me as it is something I learned on my own over time, watching people, observing them. It is simply this: When people show you who they are, believe them.

I have come to learn to do things the way people do them. I have also come to learn to do things the way people don’t do them. As they say, iykyk.

yk.

The Unholy Advice Genre

1. Men only hate gold diggers because they don't have any gold to dig and they take out their resentment on the women who dig for gold. If they have gold, they love the gold diggers. As evidenced in real life. So if you are one, or plan to be one, dig. 

2. When men love you, you can do nothing wrong. But when they fall out of love, everything you do is wrong. So might as well say and do what you want.

3. If you go after a single dude, you have to compete with 20-30 women. Local. But if you go after a married dude, you only have to compete with one. And a mistress or two MAXXXX. So go after the married dude.

A short compilation for ladies. Maybe don’t follow them. But here they are.

Café-neited

Caffeine has always been my poison of choice. I can drink it while I decide on what I actually want to drink. Even if – and I do surprise myself with this at times – it is a second drink of caffeine.

Used to be it was chai. I loved chai. Hot, sweet, strong, fragrant milk tea. It just has that magic to ease your tension.

Much earlier, it was milk. My siblings and I all love milk; it is a shame our guts can’t tolerate it much anymore. I wonder if it is because when we were kids, we drank pure milk – unpasteurized milk – fresh from a cow. Police battalion cows. It was sweet and rich and creamy and we even often visited the cowsheds where they milked the cows. Just like that. We have always been curious kids.

Which is why when I went to Delhi and we drank the pasteurized milk, it tasted different to me, although I could not really put a finger on it. But Delhi had a lot of milk – toned milk, double toned, full cream. I never knew you could have so many selections of milk. Fancy!

Which, again, is why when I returned home and only had one option – Mulco – I didn’t like it again.

And then of course, even that stopped because I moved to Champhai in 2017 for work. There I had to make do with tetrapack milk. 

So I liked milk till I liked milk. Till tetrapack milk, I realise, as I type this. I never thought about this but apparently my Laxman Rekha with milk is tetrapack. Never knew!

I still drank chai regularly till quite a few years later. For some reason, I stopped drinking milk tea somewhere around Covid. It might be because of really bad milk tea I kept being offered, because of which I would lie and tell people I prefer red tea. Or maybe because of corn creamers that are a staple milk substitutes with coffee/tea drinks or “powder milk” we get from Burma. Again I noticed the difference in the milk but it was not until much later it clicked that I was consuming not milk, but corn. Even if it behaved like milk. I stopped drinking Burma “milk” products after that.

I have given up a lot of milk!!

I set out to write a piece on caffeine and ended up with a monologue on milk. Weird how that happens sometimes.

I guess it is understandable given that for the longest time in my life, I drank milk tea or milk coffee and loved it. White people are always saying you should not give coffee to children. But my mum fed us coffee from the time we were in primary school. Some of my favourite childhood memories are coffee froths from hot, sweet, rich milk coffee. Latte, I’d say. 

Small disclaimer: the memory of coffee might be a nice memory because when she gave us coffee, it was as a reward for having gotten up so early. I might also like milk because they were a reward for having studied. My parents ran with reward systems when we were kids. We were always having to “win” things. It might distort what we really feel or think about things. Ooh, another epiphany!

Anyhoo, somewhere around Covid, I chucked milk in the bin. I never really looked back. I gave up milk and as an accompaniment, unintentional as it was, sugar. At one point, I bought a kilo of sugar for the house and it went virtually untouched for a year. They went hand in hand for me.

I drank tea without milk – all sorts of tea. This is also a remnant of Delhi days for me. I first fell in love with non-milk tea with organic chamomile and rose pip tea that I got from Himachal Pradesh at some exhibition. I began trying other tea after that. Roselle tea, Earl Grey tea, matcha tea, Darjeeling tea, oolong tea… I was getting into that habit again of drinking tea without milk and sugar. 

After a year of choosing to drink tea without milk, my milk tolerance really plummeted. It never recovered. And I, who once drank five to ten cups of chai daily, stopped cold.

Today I drink coffee. It has been some years of strong black coffee for me. As bitter and as dark as my soul, I feel sometimes. I drink coffee so much my skin turned dull at some point. I don’t sweat very much anymore but I feel like if I did, I would just smell of coffee. 

People say they need coffee to perk up. Interestingly, for me, not so much. Coffee relaxes me. Sometimes I drink coffee to unwind just before bed. It does not mess with my sleep.

I try to drink less coffee now. I have started drinking warm water as my second cup. Used to be I’d drink two mugs of coffee back-to-back. Today I do one mug coffee, second mug warm water. My skin feels better for it.

I have started drinking milk tea and coffee sometimes again this year. But I think I’d call myself a social drinker, in this regard. I don’t do it out of choice, but rather to not inconvenience people, I would accept a cup. I might not even drink it down.

Now I sound like a recovering alcoholic.

Nearly a thousand word muse on what began as an intent to reflect on a move to restrict café culture in Mizoram. Too long now. Maybe next blog? 

Definitely maybe.

Female Rage and Mizoram

Fuck the patriarchy, as Taylor Swift’s keychain says. Am I right?

People gasp and theatrically exclaim, aghast no less: Don’t tell me you’re a feminist! I can say with absolute conviction that it is better to be a feminist than to submit unquestioningly to patriarchy. I am not even advocating for matriarchy. That’s not even the solution. In an ideal world, we would be egalitarian. Which unequivocally does not mean complete equality as to say a 5 year old has the same voice as the president, not to even bring gender into the equation. In Utopia, society would revolve around who is best suited for the occasion. Ah, Shangri-la!

But for the here and now, a little change is perhaps not too much to ask for. I don’t know. In May 2026, in Mizo society where women have more say in society as compared to other societies, there was a reminder so stark it blew me away.

There was a gruesome accident the other day. Two bikes were racing and they caught this one scooter between them and the scooter fell and the pillion rider – a girl – was immediately crushed by a third speeding biker entirely on the wrong side of the road divider. The poor girl died on the spot, may she rest in peace.

But the accident itself was just the beginning of the story.

So two very gruesome stories happened online because of this event. Okay 3 stories, fine, but let's say no. 1 is good because that was a realization and general outrage and people saying we need to stop racing we need to keep to our side of the road yada yada.

No.2 was a status update, a commentary on how people were reacting to the main story. Why was she out at 12? Dear god, was the body even cold yet? This one journalist who writes in English wrote a short piece for social media about how our men need to pull themselves together, look at her she was a student trying to pay her own way through college going to work at night. And then the Facebook warriors flared up like who are you to say that, why do Mizo women always write in English, they think they're fancier than their culture, Mizo is too good for them, who will dig your graves for you when you die. Her piece was a really nice response to all this toxic patriarchy: am I only worthy as a human if I follow your diktat? 

The post got reshared by multiple women across platforms. And while we are nowhere near getting through to people, I think we've finally gotten to that point where we can say “All we are saying is treat us as people” but you want to force us into line with the grave-digging bit again. This argument is so tired we ought to rest it. 

No.3 was a bit about this one guy from Churachandpur who commented on the Facebook report of the accident: "Quick while the body is still warm". If you are an English speaker, you know what that means and implies. Understandably, some people got angry and called him out on it. It got to a point where the boy finally realized that he was now backed into a corner and he came out with an “apology” saying he was sorry, he had bad comedic timing and he didn’t mean disrespect, he was talking about CPR and was nothing sexual. 

So herein lies my interest in the bit. Some asshole was like: why are we Mizo people so quick to judge, look at his apology. He translated the phrase word for word, literally, and was like see how there's nothing sexual about this. Thankfully enough people speak decent enough English with its innuendos, its contexts and its various phrases and connotations, enough to trash his defence. 

I was staring at my phone going: Dear lord one woman came out with stop killing us on the road and question us when we work nights and people were like who will dig your graves shut up. Meanwhile, some fuckboy said quick while her body is still warm and he has defenders. The bars are sooooooooo different!!!

This is why we argue against patriarchy because patriarchy enforces toxic masculinity and toxic femininity. We are not allowed to be ourselves and live up to our potential because patriarchy. Meanwhile it gives free rein to be cruel to a certain calibre of people advantaged by it. There needs to be rules and defining norms. Otherwise we descend into chaos. But those rules need to be fair. 

People interpret feminists hating patriarchy as hating men. This is ridiculous. In Mizo Christian society, my most convincing argument would be that if you can reconcile yourself to the fact that God hates sin but loves the sinner, you can understand how women hate patriarchy but love the men. Patriarchy is not the same as Men.

In fact, toxic patriarchy damns men too, just not in the same manner and degree as it does the women.

In the ever-cropping up argument of grave digging, is grave digging all that Mizo men are good for, because this argument implies it. This is what is toxic about patriarchy. It reduces us into little boxes that none of us can climb out of on our own, so much so that we have come to accept it as “natural”. There is nothing natural about authoritarianism.

Patriarchy forces men to never confront their emotions which is how we end up with fuckboys who turn into bitter old men, with chronic ulcers and stress balding and beer guts. Patriarchy demands for men to “provide” materially to the women in their lives; this eternal burden placed on men means they are always having to live up to the name of The Man, highkey indicating they are inadequate and “non-manly” if they fail. Of course, these unhealthy stress and tension manifest in acrimonious and rancorous men who resent people for no other reason than their biology. And then they take it out on women and children. Cycle of Hurt.

Manuel Castells did a nice little study on San Francisco called The City and the Grassroots. Here he discussed at one point how gay men across the United States migrated to SF in large numbers in the 60s and 70s and changed the landscape. Men who were otherwise ostracized in their own communities flock to the relatively gay-friendly SF. With their traditional advantages being men allowing them academic success and its accompanying perks, coupled with their sensitivity that came with them being allowed to express their artistic sides, they contributed to SF blooming into a cultural conclave, with amazing architecture and incredible skyline.

All of this and the deep harm patriarchy inflicts on women is that women will defend the patriarchy, sometimes even more than men do. To their own demise, even. Kyunki saas bhi kabhi bahu thi, anyone? It is a long study in Sociology.

In the end, we just end up as a bunch of hurt people hurting other people.

People bloom best when they are free and allowed their chance of expression. There are many things that certain genders are, in toto, very good at. Barring exceptions, of course. So this whole muse is not about demanding equality reduced to the absurd like “If women want to be equal to men, we should be able to punch them” like why is your first thought about violence? Damn son. It is about tending to people as people before you reduce them to gender and gender roles. And don’t get me started on religion w.r.t. Christianity because I will argue that Jesus is a feminist. Point blank. 

TL;DR I think the bar needs to be relaxed for women as it needs to be raised for men.

Dog vs. Dog Reels

I post a lot of dog videos. This has prompted people to sometimes ask me where I got the dog from. Did I specifically order it from outside Mizoram? Did I buy it local here? Usually because they want “a dog like yours”.

I am very wary of answering these questions. Mostly because the dog is a dog.

I am glad people find the videos cute. The algorithm found them so they were probably the target audience. But there's a reason the videos are cute which is that it has everything to do with film-making. You don’t want to peep behind the curtain.

For starters, the fact that they are on an average about 15-30 seconds duration should say much. In case I still need to spell it out, that's about as much time as my dog Mavena can manage to behave in a 24 hour cycle. 20 seconds out of 86,400s in a day. 0.02% of the day. The ratio is harsh.

And then there’s the fact the videos are cut and edited with the sound turned off and voiceover narration or audio overlay placed instead. This is film-making. This is selective story-telling. This is making the facts fit into the narrative. Forced narrative, I should add. The dog has no idea that a lot of people think he is a certain way. Because I – and not him – had always been the one that controlled the entire chronicle.

I would never presume to be better than people. But I do pride myself on being a responsible pet owner. I researched the breed. And why breed dog, you ask? I will answer that in a little tangent. 

When I joined service in government, people’s first, and loudest, most constant opinion was: “You need to start dressing up better; you’re an officer; people expect it of you”. That is a story for another day. And then in service, for a long time, I drove my dad’s old Maruti 800. People’s opinion then? “You need to get a better ride. You’re an officer. People expect it of you.” 

My fashion is on me; it will evolve and I have always liked how I dress. The car is an inanimate object and belongs to my dad; I have no strong feelings about it. 

But I knew that if I were to get a dog, and dogs being dogs and NOT CATS, I did not want to waste my good mood listening to people ask “why didn’t you get a breed dog?” 

I say “not cats” in caps because with cats, it’s fine. When people asked me why not Persian? I had my answers ready. With Momo, “Oh I stole her from a little girl, it’s fine” and that usually shut people up because in Mizo mores, you can “steal” a cat. With Nix, “Oh the previous owner already had 21 cats so she gave her to my sister and the calico just decided to buddy up with me instead”. Cats are fine. 

Dogs, on the other hand, very needy. Very needing of discipline. 

You can say don’t let people’s unnecessary comments get to you all day long. But if you can, it’s better to eliminate that comment altogether to preserve the few rare good days. People suck. Prepare for war; not battle. You know.

I've heard so many stories of people who buy expensive dogs and then abandon them or eat them because they're too difficult to handle. It got too big. It shed too much. It chews up shoes and wires and overall too destructive. It got stomach and skin issues. It won’t stop barking.

My dog is the same. Every day he sheds enough to make a new dog, it seems like. He is unruly, gets zoomies at really inopportune moments, needy, cries a lot, destroys exactly one part of a pair of shoes and then moves on to another. He howls a lot and his volume control is like if Donald Trump were a dog; you never knew what sound is going to come out – a whisper or megaphone. He is not to be trusted off leash at any point outside the house EVER. He needs a steady diet, medicine and supplements, aside from the regular shots from the Vet. And Dr Mahminga of Waggin’ Tails can attest to how many times he has drained extremely foul-smelling pus from his behind.

Ultimately he is cute because (and sorry for tooting my own horn) I tell a good story and I edit reasonably well for 20s. I am over the moon to have entertained you. I have no plans of stopping because sometimes he is very cute.

I do not regret bringing the beagle home but I also don’t want to encourage people to get beagles, either. I researched endlessly before I got him. In between all the IGOT Karmayogi lessons, the many online researches for DC, elections and land revenue, chats with family and friends, the endless certificates I issued digitally, I was researching beagles on a split screen. I knew what to expect.

The dog himself is not all that, man! He is a goofy idiot but I do love him because I wanted him, I brought him home with me, and the fact that he is this goofy is one of the reasons I am so fond of him. Alone, or with fellow pet lovers, he is not an issue. But not every insaan is a dog lover. 

He even seems like he understands commands sometimes but that is more incidental than real. More imagined than ideal. He knows to sit, to shake hands, to fetch, and he knows the word for “don’t” in Mizo but whether he obeys me or not is always a 50-50. What’s more, this is it. Even if he lives out his life cycle, it's 17y, and he's never going to be more than this right now, as in this is as much as can be expected from him. Ever.

I am fine with that. 

I had made my peace with the fact that I was going to bring home with me a creature that could grow up to be a menace to society, with the online beagle community describing them as single-minded, food-obsessed escape artists with selective hearing and equipped with the nose of a shark. But I wanted a loud dog that can chase away potential thieves by giving them second thoughts because, yk, dog. 

Even then, he was a challenge.

Which is how a lone cat like myself came to require a domestic help because while I can take care of myself, I cannot take care of myself while attending a beagle. My dog has no clue he is a financial liability because he eats fancy, piles up vet bills, and requires a domestic help. Not only does he not know the expenses he rakes up, he cries every time I leave the house without him. Not one clue I have to do that so he can live the life of luxury he has grown accustomed to. 

All this when literally all I expected him to do was bark at strangers and he does not even do that. He will bark at a leaf that's blowing in a direction he doesn't like, but he will lie on his back and begs for belly rubs from strangers, even people I want to be angry at. Recall is an exercise in futility. Weirdly he doesn’t hump people very much so I am spared that mortification, but he does want pets and games from everyone. Menace. To society.

Suffice to say he does not even reach the low bar I set for him. He's a male dog. 

I do love the idiot. But I remain wary of telling people how and where I got him from. I never encourage people to get beagles. It’s a 20y commitment. In the meantime, I just make videos.

Joshua

Did you know that Joshua and Jesus are the same names? Yeshua, both of them. But somehow one is Jesus and the other is Joshua.

I feel like if they’d been consistent with translations, and kept both names the same, the story of Moses stopping at the borders of Canaan, the promised land, would have been so much clearer. I mean I know the one about how God was being petty and because Moses said "We give you water" and not "God gives you water" is why God was all like ya no you can't go in the promised land. Lesson in obedience yada yada.

I mean, of course, no one said "petty" but it is implied, right? Like you have to be careful with your words types because the Lord takes notes. 

The names though. Moses was leading the Israelites. He was the great Law Giver, the Hebrew Manu, so to speak. But ultimately, the one who led the Israelites through to the promised land was Joshua.

In a re-enactment of this tag-team, Mosaic Law will take you as far as possible but then it will be Jesus/The Second Joshua/New Testament Joshua that will take you into heaven. 

So it was basically Moses and Joshua physically portraying a prophecy rather than making a verbal prophecy, which will be fulfilled with Christ.

P.S.: There is a really nice The Office style mockumentary on YouTube called The Promised Land series. Do check it out. It’s grand fun. In Bible comics and/or Bible films, they add tints to the scene, give it atmosphere, make it ultra dramatic and all that so it never registered how extremely odd it is that the only thing Moses was doing while they were fighting the Amalekites was raise his staff. Go out on a random day with your walking stick, stand somewhere on a busy street, and just raise your staff. You’ll see how very, very odd that command was. The ultimate message being, of course, implicitly trust God and God will do right by you. But how it plays out? Very random, very weird.

Black

I don’t really listen to heavy metal. I know very little of it. It overwhelms my senses and I tune out more than tune in. But I do know heavy metal people tend to be elitist in terms of music manifestation – technique, lyrics, performance, arrangement… A song by Don Williams on a six-string feels too simple for them. 

But to each their own. 

I know for myself that if my heart were to break over a song, chances are exponentially higher that it would be over a country song on a hollow guitar than it would be over a Superman-strong rhythm blasted out of a thorny electric guitar, a bass guitar, a fancy keyboard, and a set of loud drums.

I do listen to a few rock songs. Not usually of my own volition but lowkey forced on me by older cousins, older boyfriends and good old millennial culture of trying to fit in. A good lesson that good music is good music. I did grow to love a lot of them. Queen, for example. Or Eagles. Even pop rock like Bon Jovi.

On a tangent, I learned to give a lot of genres and languages a chance. This is how I love songs today of languages I do not speak. 

Good music is good music.

Continuing on, my younger siblings listened to punk and I shared music system with them growing up so I learned to love some punk and emo songs as well. Not regrettable. There are some very good ones out there.

I list out these genres because of black, the colour. It is a unifying factor between them. Different genres although not entirely strangers to each other, I suppose. Perhaps you can lay them out in a spectrum. Whatever that spectrum is, black goes hard with them. It is their visual identifier.

There is something about black, the colour. So many layers to it. Mystery, elegance, rebellion, minimal and yet pregnant with meaning, darkness, depth. No wonder the at-times politically charged genre like punk and heavy metal should lean into it so much. Tormented souls – the romantic tragics, the political despondents, the angry rebels – all immerse themselves in the colour.

Black is very accepting. Formalities would even demand it of people at times. But tear up the elegance and you have a sub-culture, the colour of vampires, of demons, and all the creatures of the dark

Black is promising. It is the colour of the life-giving alluvial soil and the night sky that promises you the stars and the moon, even of the nothingness that is peace and calm. 

Music genres that associate themselves with black the colour tend to go hard on their lyrics. I think sometimes that this is also one of the reasons of the elitism. The arrangements and the technicalities aside, these songs tend to reflect poetry at the level of the tortured artist. The sorrow and pain is real, the anger palpable. 

Little wonder such depth would scorn at the sweet little almost-jingle-esque formulaic pop songs characterised by bubble gum pink and/or bright primary colours if not outright neon altogether. Or find the sepia tones and blue jeans of folk and country simple. Or consider the satin and velvet vibes of blues, jazz, orchestras and operas too conforming. Confining, maybe. 

Black is freeing. A blank canvas. A fertile ground.

Plus, everybody looks good in black. You can’t go wrong with it. I mean an Eva Longoria would look better in red than black but you can’t say that of many people at all. That’s really neither here nor there, my apologies. I digress.

Not sure how to end. Maybe here.

Luxury Bags

In college, an IRS boy once looked at me across the table and remarked: “I think you are the kind of girl who prefers momos to designer bags.”

In his defence, I was hungry and devouring chicken momos, the dumplings practically flying in my mouth, washed down by cold stinging soda water. It was heaven but I was probably not a pretty sight. Also Delhi momos have a very definite smell that people who aren’t used to it find off-putting. All in all, I don’t suppose the whole sight was very attractive.

In my defence, however, and I reiterate again, I was hungry. And you can’t eat designer bags. And at the time, I had a man-sized appetite coupled with golden metabolism so I was good.

That being said, I appreciate pretty things. And I might not have the necessary interest or the intellectual enlightenment to recognize an expensive bag when I see it. But I do recognize pretty things for what they are. Thing of beauty, joy forever, yada yada.

My office bag is a brown leather Hidesign bag and I will have to replace it soon because it’s getting old and a little worn. But I have not got around to it. And I suspect I will procrastinate for a good long while. I like what I like and I find it hard to replace anything semi-permanent in my life. Even something as functional fashion as an office bag. The bag contains what it contains. I have the memory of Dory and the day I alternate bags is the day I forget one thing or the other. So I have to have something like brown leather that can be forgiven with most attires. It is what it is. I do not look forward to the day I will need to change it.

I have never had an eye for ladies bags. But sometimes social media and celebrity culture expose you to fancy things you are voyeur to, if not partaker. And so have I, too, fallen for the scam art of designer bags that cost small fortunes that I find slightly revolting in their opulence. Eagerly consuming the culture of excessive abundance, that be me!

Beautiful things do deserve their place on the mantle. And rich things serve a purpose beyond their beauty. Think the soap-esque giant emerald locket of Nita Ambani, I mean, come on. They announce you before you speak. Like the boy whose reputation preceded him. Was it Ed Sheeran who said he had a “reputation that don’t precede me”? What does that line mean?

I digress.

Luxury bags. I went down a rabbit hole the other day. I can’t believe the prices some of those can command! Man, talk about poverty in a third world country! Some bags are prettier than others, some are definitely more upscale than others, some boast of craftsmanship and product material. I appreciate it. Also all the more so because I cannot imagine the kind of a life where I work with bags all my life, identifying design, procuring material, arranging accompanying clothes, organise designated events. It sounds a little ostentatious to me.

Even the concept of looking at someone and noticing their bag for its rarity, or price tag, is weird to me. I don’t even remember how much I paid for my bag. 

I do suppose it’s at the level of people asking how much I paid for my car, which I do value, and which I do know, and when I see other people in their Jimnys, I do randomly find myself guessing how much they paid for their car, and the little accompanying accessories, and I check the plate and see the number… I do make little guesses. Neither here nor there. What does that say about anything anyway? But I do. So I guess I understand the brand recognition and obsession.

I suppose the IRS boy was not so far off. I would love to own a designer bag for the art of it all, for the bragging rights of it all, for the luxury of it all. But he had me pegged; it’s still not very high on my priority list at all, even this side of thirty.

Different worlds!

The Fig Tree and the Anger of a Good Man

Heavy rain days make me think of God. Maybe because they remind me of mortality. In Mizoram, with thunder and lightning, and in Durtlang the whooshing of wind, it becomes reflex to say little prayers. And relax.

This Tuesday, my mind travels to Jesus cursing a lone fruitless fig tree. Why, I’ve always wondered. I suppose if you’re hangry and you have the power to instantly wither off a tree full of leaves, you would, too. But you’d think God would be different. 

Something nagged me about the timeline and fortunately somebody in office had a Bible so I didn’t have to quite freak out with unresolved theories in my head and I could just quickly check it out. And there it was. 

Two major things happened, as per this discussion.

One, Jesus enters Jerusalem triumphantly but has little altercation with the temple leaders and one massive freak out at the temple. 

Two, Jesus curses the fig tree for not bearing fruit while he was hungry, and it withers. 

A long time ago, someone said in a sermon that in the Bible, when things repeat, it is to show confirmation. Which is how you have four Gospels that tell, by and large, the same account with only minor differences here and there, or The Ten Commandments repeated in Exodus and then in Deuteronomy, or how Kings and Chronicles are basically the same books, or parables of the Lost Coin, Lost Sheep and Lost Son… they serve to emphasize a message.

For this muse, I’ve always taken the fig tree in isolation. I thought maybe it just stood out and people noticed. Or maybe it showed the humane side of Jesus, the man that could and did get angry. Something. 

However, if you take it into context with what happened at the Temple and with the religious leaders there, things start to fall into place. What was Jesus’ altercation with the temple leaders about? That the children recognized him for who he was as the Messiah but the leaders, who should recognise him, more so than anyone else, them being familiar with the Scriptures, could not. Why did Jesus freak out at the Temple? He did not care that the Temple grounds were being used for exploiting the poor worshippers. So in essence, his issue with the Temple and the leaders? They had the Right Image of worship and righteousness but were corrupt within and bore no fruit that the ones who needed it could consume.

This then was Jesus’ issue with the fig tree. The fig tree looked like it bore fruit, what with its multitude of leaves. But when a hungry Jesus approached it for food, he found it had none.

Repetition. And live demo.

Interestingly, Jesus has been saying this earlier as well, when he told his followers that they will know people by the fruits they bear. Point to note: not the clothes they wear, because some will be ravenous wolves that approach you in sheep’s clothing. Be careful, he had already warned.

So you know, more repetition.

I think the pitfall is the word “good”. Jesus once asked a young guy why he called him good because only God is good. I think he meant it like if you call me good, then you recognize me as God. I think in that instance it was less about humility, than it was about the young man not recognizing him as God, and Jesus just telling him he sees through him and into his soul. Or beliefs.

We call people good all the time and sometimes I think it is a plea for reciprocation. Please see me as good too, you know. It is easy to fall into this pit because once you think you are good, then it is easy to play you. I could play you. Imagine how much more so the Devil. All that we’d need to do is tell you you’re good, and therefore this or that. The real harm is when you think you’re so good that (a) other people are bad, and that (b) you could save them. Who is good?

Even Doctor Who debated this. Am I good, he kept asking himself. Clara and Twelve went into philosophy debating goodness. This was after Eleven went on a destruction spree banking on his goodness and all the people who owed him for his goodness, prompting River Song to recite a haunting poem of what happens when a good man goes to war. Am I a good man? he childishly asked of Clara. Clara thought about it and would eventually tell him she didn’t know, but that he tried to be, and maybe that was the whole point. Glum. The poem is really nice, though.

Jesus, though. He was a good man. Because He was God. And only God is good. And God in his judgement decided to be angry because Appearance was all that some people – and trees – had to offer him. 

The lesson is harsh. How can anyone be good, when only God is good? Maybe if we try, it will be enough. More precisely, if we don’t pretend to be good while rotting inside, we can begin to walk on the road to goodness. Maybe. Or maybe only God is good and we can take refuge in that. But still stop pretending to be good. They say the Devil tempts you; maybe that’s true. I suppose if I were the Devil, I wouldn’t tempt a religious man with drugs and alcohol or even sexy sex, but perhaps I’d tempt them with a boastful heart, pride, ego, the certainty of knowing oneself to be “good”.

Almost 1000 words. I guess my bottom line is: fear the anger of the good man. Or risk instant withering.

Near Death

1. If someone asks if you want to go fishing in the dead of the night and you said yes, and suddenly it’s 11PM and you’re “fishing” in places you’re not allowed to fish which means you have no light, and it’s nine grown people on a small wooden boat, calculate your best chances of surviving the night namely, where both sides of the banks of the river are, pray. Text your sister where you are, then put your phone in your jacket, zip up your pocket (wear a jacket that has zippers on its pocket), and pray.

2. If your sense of responsibility finds you wading through a mudslide in a drizzle with promise of more thunder and lightning, when everyone else is at home, cozying up with family, and chatting with friends (and arguing with foes) online, and discussing climate and government roles and duties, pray. Text your sister where you are because that shit is time stamped, then wear sensible footwear, light jacket that doesn’t get too heavy in the rain (because even wool is just a burden if it gets wet, because then it’s no use, it gets really heavy and very very cold), pants with pockets where you have an SAK, a ORS powder pack, a small bottle of water, a hanky, and of course one waterproof pocket with zippers where your phone can stay dry, and pray.

3. If your call of duty demands you’re in the middle of a rainstorm, neck deep in the middle of nowhere, bang in the midst of a16-wheeled trucks traffic jam, transporting god-knows-what, and it gets dark, and you have no light but the light in your Samsung mobile, your vehicle and driver about 27 trucks away, slightly drunk and irate truck drivers calling you to ‘babe, calm down’, and they’re not listening to your logic, pray. Text your sister where you are, in case you die, or worse, then put your phone inside your jacket pocket, zip it up (ensure your waterproof jacket has zippered pockets), bad-mouth the truckers and order them – and the policemen – to listen up, and pray.  

4. If your journey takes you to the top of a mountain which you’ve reached on the back of a pick-up truck, and your driver is talented but you’re not sure if he is wholly in his senses, because you know for damn sure your companions aren’t anymore this side of 5PM, and the nearest village is way nearly 90 degrees downhill, and the cute boy you know has told you last night that he had scaled that peak on foot and not on a pick-up, and you’re wondering if that was smarter than being on a mechanical cart, driven by someone you never met once in your life until 10AM that day, and you’re wondering if you just make very random bad choices in your life, take a deep swipe of your favourite beverage, text your sister (zippered pocket or not, makes no difference), then pray. 

5. Bottom line is tell your sister, and then pray. She knows enough to delete your phone history and what you have inside your locked trunk in your locked closet. That bitch knows what to do. You’ve never talked about it, but she knows. Then you make nice with Jesus and surrender.

C’est la vie. Such is life. And it never stops.

The Pope

I had a good night's rest so I was thinking of adult-like important things this morning. Namely how the Catholic Church is so good at politics.

I’d say they read the winds and see the signs coming. 

When a pope dies and they choose the next one, they make it into such a big spectacle, no? Like it was divinely ordained, the whole black smoke, white smoke thing. I mean it worked in the days pre-science & tech, but they continue so as to keep up tradition and also make it into this grand symbolic shit. And I think it works. 

But also I was thinking last time they chose a pope, they must have known they’d probably need an American pope. Seeing how the US is behaving; more importantly, how it was behaving by the time 2025 rolled around.

When my screen showed me Trump being Trumpy about Pope Leo, I was thinking: damn the Cats have survived 2000 years, seen regimes and monarchs and governments fall and yet they persevere and now I know why. They know their politics, man! 

Religion and god, sure, but also yk, POLITICS! We can talk of God-ordained priesthood all day long, and I appreciate how much the symbolism stands, and also I can even acknowledge divine intervention in giving wisdom to the Conclave that ultimately selects (elects?) the Bishop of Rome. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that however a Bishop becomes a Pope, other men are involved; it’s like arguing Bible is not written by God because it was literally technically written by men. Sometimes, inspiration is god-breathed.

It got me thinking that this is why when you put people who deserve their spots in governance and not based on their pedigree, you get good collective wisdom!! On a tangent, this is of course what democracy wants, but that falls flat on its face because people are dumb.

Meanwhile, the Cats have smart people in governance, who've spent their lives in the game – and only the game – not worrying about salary and family, their logic and calculations tempered by religion... this is why The Vatican survives. And thrives quietly.

Regardless of their politics and religious takes, these men spend their whole lives primarily thinking about how to make the Catholic religion go on. They have their prayers and meditation to calm them down, they regularly make confessions so they are less burdened with guilt and shit – I mean this religion comes with its own built-in therapist sessions, how can it fail? – and they're unbothered with fashion trends and luxurious living and shit and they have their hands in every single space on human-occupied earth so their intel, when they want, is impressive.

All due respects to Catholics and the church, of course. I am just exercising a little political sociology here!

Blood and Water

Blood is thicker than water, they say. Recently though, if you’re on certain parts of the internet, you’d know this phrasing is a misrepresentation of the entire phrase. Curiously, it is the opposite. I wonder who corrupted it. It might have been a good wit who switched the old to turn it into a new Aha! moment. Except it was too good an Aha! moment that it overshadowed and outlived its original source.

Which turned out to be this: The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

I thought about this saying today because it was literally last week that I had this very nonchalant but enlightening conversation with my mother,

My mother, ladies and gentlemen, is a woman who turned to me one day and said: "Hey do you remember So-and-so?" To which I replied, "No that doesn’t ring a bell". She thought about it and said: "huh, must have been before you were born."

I mean… ya.

And so it was that we were cooking and I recalled one time when I was very little that my elder sister and I travelled from Aizawl to Rahsi Veng, Lunglei with Nu Nuseni, her brother and his new bride. No parents. No one else. None of us – not my mother, not my sister texting on her phone nearby, certainly not me – could remember why we travelled without mum and dad. My mother said: "we often let you kids travel alone; in retrospect, that was not very smart; good thing the world was safer then."

Ya, duh.

"Well, at least they were relatives", I said.

My mother looked startled. Ladies and gents, I say startled! The woman looked startled at this statement and she turned to my sister. 

My sister (again, my dear readers, my sister is the woman who when she was a kid was singularly observant and noticed that my parents were trying to save money by adulerating Frooti which my sister loved at the time. The costs of the mango was apparently hurting the purse. So the counterfeiting couple would save up her empty Frooti tetrapacks and inject regular watered down Kissan squash into them and present it to the kid. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, this singularly observant kid was also extremely gullible. To the point that she would point to the empty tetrapacks and cheerfully tell guests and visitors: “those empty packs are there so that my parents can fool me!” Which they still did. It’s never knowledge alone is it? It’s how you use your knowledge!)

So my mother looked startled and my sister looked entirely nonplussed. “But surely you know we are not related by blood!” my mother finally said.

Which is how in the second week of March, 2026, I learned that the woman I had been calling Nu, as an extended Mother in the kinship terminology of the Mizo, all my loving life, was not related to me at all. Blood of the covenant, the kind of friendship that endures, like the one evidently between my mother and her dear friend, is apparently thicker than the water of the womb. Because, and I shall not name names here, there are closer blood ties and people I do call Nu, who I am not half or even a quarter as close to as I am to Nu Nuseni.

This is, by the way, the moment my sister chose to laugh at me and say: "You probably think Nu Thartei is a relative too!"

Yes, my dear audience, I had indeed, all my life upto the second week of March 2026, thought that Nu Thartei was a blood aunt. Since I don’t really know the specifics of how I am related to many people, I had just counted it off as one of those. When during my Foundational Training as an MCS, we were in Vairengte for a week, I had invited all 13 or so of my batchmates to Nu Thartei’s house for dinner, she had hosted us a lovely one. I had no idea I was inviting multiple friends over to dinner to my mother’s old, good friend. No idea at all. How lovely is that! I don’t even mean it sarcastically. I have thought about it since and I realise that I love the friendship ties that have become so strong they’ve transcended traditional kinship.

In contrast, I remember one day my dad decided to traumatize me and said something about my “Ni”, my paternal aunt, of a woman I had no knowledge of. Then he said: "oh ya, your grandfather had a pre-marital daughter; we were quite close once but then we moved from the village. I thought you knew." Heh?! I’d never heard her mentioned!

Or how on my mother’s side (this I have always known but also, sort of in the abstract way you know that an imaginary number 1 added to an imaginary number 1 is an imaginary number 2, or in the helpless, resigned way my dog looks at me when he sees a bucket of warm water and his shampoo bottle; there is nothing to be done except know it and bear with it), I have a Maybe Relative in Nagaland’s Mokokchung. 

This is because at one point, my maternal grandfather who was at the time in the Assam Police, was posted there and had a girlfriend who got pregnant. However, in his words, “it was time for me to leave so I told her to just name someone else and I left for Mizoram”. The ass, honestly. In college, I had asked Atu if there had ever been this scandal in her village. She tried to ask around but if that baby was ever carried to term, or if there is a Naga kid going around unknowingly being half-Mizo, we’d never know!

I am starting to think I might do well to construct a family tree. My family seems sus. Or the sitcom version of a Santa Barbara or The Bold and The Beautiful drama.

Fungible Pawisa Hmandan

Fungible tih word hi a lem ka tia, ka nuih a za deuh tlat zel a. Phuahchawp word, fiamthu atana ṭangkai mai mai hi a ang deuh a. MBA kan zirlaia ka hmelhriat a ni a, a root word ka hre lo na in a awmzia ber chu thil, a hlutna bo miah lova thlakthleng kual theih, a ni deuh mai. Example ṭha ber chu pawisa hi a ni leh a. ₹500 note hi ₹500 note 1 emaw ₹200 note 2 leh ₹100 note 1 ah thleng nawi ila, emaw kan ₹500 note kha tu emaw pe ila, anni in ₹500 min lo GPay let thung se, a hlutna a bo chuang lo; ₹500 a la ni reng. Pawisa kha a fungible tihna a nih chu. Serious leh viau lawi si maw!

He pawisa fungible kan tih lai tak hi economist Richard Thaler-an a rawn challenge a. Mental Accounting zawk a ni pawimawh, a rawn ti a. 2017 khan Economics ah Nobel Prize a dawn phah a ni.

Hemi tak hi tunlai ka rilrua awm tam a ni a. Mizoram economy bik zirna hi ka la hmelhriat tam lo a. MZU lamah te thesis ṭha tak tak a awm tawh mai thei. Economics thiam ai chuan Mizoram socio-economy hrechiang hi an Thesis a ngaihnawm fu ka ring, keimah bik ah.

Thaler-a concept hi Mental Accounts lam a ni a. A rawn hrilhfiah chu mihring hian kan pawisa kan hman dawn hian kan pawisa hi amaha a hlutna - a fungible na - aiin keimahni ngaihtuahnaa "mental folder" hrang hrang mil zawkin kan hmang ṭhin a ni. Computer kan hmelhriat a, computer ah chuan folder 📂 hrang hrang kan nei a, folder te hian thuhlawm khat an kengkhawm ṭhin a ni.

Entirnan, vairamah kan zin changin auto fare ah cheng 10 lek pawh kan in dawn hrep peih a. Auto aṭangin kan chhuk a, mall ah coffee no 1 ₹300 in kan lei a, ngaih loh lamah kan ngai leh miah lo a.

Mizoramah pawh anṭam tel 1 ₹50 an tih chuan ₹40 ti mai turin kan dawn peih a. Millenium Centre ah kan lut a, kawr mawi leh ṭha em em pawh ni lo, a "tunlai" vangin ₹3000 in kan lei leh mai bawk a.

A awmzia ah chuan kan Mental Accounting ah chuan folder hrang hrang kan nei a. Transportation folder 📂 hnuaia sub-folder Auto Fare 📂 aṭanga pawisa chhuak tura kan ngaih chuan ₹10 khan lukhawng a nei em em a. Mahse mall kan lut a, mall chu Entertainment folder 📂 hnuaiah kan lo dah a, a pawisa chhuak tur kan han ngaihtuah pawhin coffee no 1 ₹300 man kha a to kan ti leh lo a ni. Brand Consumption kan tih, brand hming inbel leh ei/in lampang kha chu dahṭha daih rih ila. A pawisa chhuahna atana kan rilrua lan dan 📂 kha a pawimawh em a ni.

Chutiang tho chuan Chawhmeh Leina 📂 aṭanga chhuak atan chuan ₹10 kha a tam. Mahse Thawmhnaw 📂 ah pawh MC 📂 aṭang chuan ₹3000 kha a chang phei chuan "a tlawm" leh daih. 

Hemi example scenario 2 ah hian a hnuhnung zawk zelah te hi chuan ₹10 hian hlutna tak tak a nei zo miah lo. Coffee no 1 ₹300 cash a kan lei ṭumin ₹10 discount in ₹290 te in min lo leitir hlauh ta se, an serving table a donation/tips jar ah ₹10 chu kan thlak daih tlangpui. MC ah phei chuan kawr ₹3000 man hi "ka pe tlawm ang che,  ₹2990 in i la dawn nia", an ti lo ang, an fiamthu viau te a nih loh chuan. ₹10 khan lukhawng a nei lem lo.

Chutiang a nih chuan pawisa hi a lo fungible tak tak seng lo a ni. Kan rilru ah 📂 hrang hrang kan lo siam sa a. Hetiang folder te a rualkhaia hrut chu a har khawp mai. Chawhmeh ₹50 man a ₹10 kan save chuan 20% discount a ni a, kan thluakin a ṭha a ti a, a hlim. Tunlai ṭawng takin kan thluakin dopamine a release a ni. Chutih laiin ₹3000 mana ₹10 kan save chu 0.33% vel chauh a lo ni a, kan rilru a 📂 hrang hrang lo manage tu kan thluak hian a ho tham a ti tlat. Zero dopamine.

A nihna takah chuan ₹10 save tur tho a ni a, ₹10 ṭheuh ṭheuh, chawhmeh zuar aṭanga kan save emaw thawmhnaw man aṭanga kan save emaw amah ₹10 kha chu a ngai reng. Kan Mental Accounting hi kan buaina a lo ni.

English ho concept "penny wise, pound foolish" tih pawh hetah hian a leng a. Pawisa tlem thamah chuan kan fing fu, pawisa tam thamah kan fing zo leh si lo. Hman deuh khan Mizorama corruption chungchang titi naah kohhran sum naia 1 pawh eiru lo tur hian sorkar/mipui sum ah chuan nuai tam an ei leh si, an tih ka hre tawh a. Ka hre chhuak zawk! Mental Accounting vek a lo ni e. Pawisa, amaha fungible em em si, kha keimahni a hmangtu te hian kan ti fungible lo zo ṭhin a ni.

Hei hi brand concept ah hian a chiang khawp a. Brand names ho hian he Mental Accounting hi an chiang khawp a. Kan thluaka folder hrang hrang te an activate thiam a ni. "Branded" kan tih ho thil kan lei hian amaha a hlutna bak tam tak kan lei tel a. Kan pawisa a nia, kan hman duhna a nih a, Image te kan ngaihpawimawh chuan kan thu a ni. Pawisa kan ngah lo a, kan in khawl a, kan invest duh anih thung chuan Brand Consumption hian kan Mental Accounting a suk ngheh tawh zia hi kan hriat a ṭha a. Brand Consumption kan tih hian high end brand te chauh ngaihtuah lo ila, keimahni level a "China ṭha ania" tih ang te "(XYZ) khaw chhuak ngat ania" tih ang te kha a leng vek. A tawpah chuan chawhmeh zuar te fight vak vak aiin keimahni thluaka Mental Accounting zawk hi kan fight a ngai tihna a nih chu!

Sorkar hnathawk ka ni a, sorkar hnathawk bulah ka awm tam a. Ka lo notice ṭhin chu kan thla hlawh Salary/Wage leh engemaw thil danga TA/DA/Honorarium/Sitting Allowance etc. te kan treat dan pawh hi a dang fu zel. Kan thla hlawha kan lei duh lem loh, a ṭul ka ti lo, ka afford lo, kan tih hi source dang aṭanga pawisa lo lut kan neih chuan kan lo "afford" leh tho a. Afford kan tih lai tak kha a fungible pawisa leh keimahni standard of living nen kan lo teh vak lo. Wealth building hi a hla leh hret ṭhin. Kan goal hi wealth building a nih lem loh chuan thuhran leh tho. Awmzia ber chu Mental Accounting ah extra money 📂 angin kan dah a, hlawh angin kan treat chiah lo a, sum khawl emaw peipun emaw ai chuan entertainment 📂 aṭanga hman mai khan kan thluak a hlim zawk. Khawl hlek ila kan lei leh theih tho si erawh chuan long run ah chuan a ho deuh.

Source hi a pawimawh khawp a. Nazareth English School, Chhinga Veng-a kan headmaster Sir Matthew hian hman aṭang tawh khan keini a students te bulah "Hard earned money hi a hlu" tih min zirtir ṭhin a. Class 2 naupang pawhin kan theihnghilh lo chu a nih hi. Ka puitlin hnu hian pawisa lo lut awlsam chu a chhuak leh awlsam, kan ti liam puat ṭhin a. Thu tam tak a sawi a. Ama socio-economy pawh a awm ang a. Mahse Mental Accounting mit aṭanga kan en chuan source 📂 hrang hrang kan lo nei mai thei a. Kan "hard earned money" ni lem lo chu Treats For Myself 📂 ah a lut vek a ni mai thei. Khawl a lo har phian.

Source legit or not legit tih te, penny wise pound foolish tih te chu engpawh lo ni se, smart wealth building atan chuan kan Mental Accounting hi kan fight hmasak a lo ngai anih hi. 

Harsa si.

PS: Mihring hi kan fungible ve lo, an ti thin a. DNA zawng tak pawhin a dik ang a. Mahse mihring kan nihna ni lovin Labour Force kan nihna ah erawh chuan fungible tak tak hi chu kan awm duh hmel. JK.

Vawksa Man

Tlem laia vawksa man san khan Mizorama thil man fix dan min ngaihtuah nasat tir a. A ṭhenah Rs 450 (Rs 500 pawh a ni thuai ta bawk a) in vawksa kg 1 an zawrh laiin a ṭhenah chuan Rs 400 ti mahse a bukah 800gms te an han ti bawk a. A tu ber hi nge in bum hlawm aw, ka ti rilru deuh a. 

Mikhual neih ṭuma vawksa kg 3 siam duh laia a zuartuten kg 2.4 min buk sak tlat chuan lem deuhin “4kgs” (a takah chuan 3.2kgs) lei ngai ta kher lai kha a ho hi ka ti rilru khawp a. Ti to ve ta mai se, buk dik zawk se, rawngbawl a va dik duh zawk awm ve aw! Kan Mizo vawksa recipe ah “per kg” ah spices chuti zat tih a awm lo a ni mai pawh a, sap recipe hman dawn chuan recipe kan zawm dik thei lo der. Mahni inah buk leh turin buk lung leh bukna ka nei lo leh pek bawk nen AVBT.

Thil dang man pawh min ngaihtuah chhunzawm tir ta zel a. Choka hman thlai leh sa man loh theih lohin rilru ah a lang a. Mahnia khawsak inrel chuan thil man to hian min tih buai em em loh na chen a awm a. A quantity a tlem chuan thil man lo to hlek pawh ni se kham khawp a tlem tho a, ka uite bak chawm nei lo leh sorkara hlawh la tan chuan ka harsat phah em em hran lo a, chawhmeh man hi ka lo ngaihtuah lo ṭhin a. Ka rilru chawlh deuh lai leh Vawksa Man hike an intawng fuh zeuh vangin ka ngaihtuah ta chauh. Ka bazar hian, chhungrual tan chuan lei a har dawn anih hi, tih kha ka ngah ta. 

Interesting ka ti a. Silchar emaw Burma emaw lam aṭanga kan lakluh ang te hi lo to deuh hlek pawh ni se a awm a. Transportation Cost hi thil manah a bet lo thei lo a, kawng a ṭhat chiah loh phei chuan a lo sang ve deuh ṭhin a. Mahse tual thar si, to em em hi chu hriatthiam a harsa deuh. Kan la thar tam tawk lo anih hi, tih hi ka ngaihdan a ni zui ta a. Thar tam ila, a chhiat hlauh tham kan neih chuan thlai thar emaw forest produce ang te hi chu a man a tam em em thei lo. 

A rei deuh tawh nangin kum 2000 chho khan Roorkee, Uttaranchal ah theihai season ah chuan theihai hmin thlum ṭha kg 1 hi Rs 5 ten kan lei ṭhin. An thar tam bawk a, a loh theih loh. Thil chhe awlsam an ni a, thlai man chu supply/demand in a siam rem mai. Sorkar in upper limit a set ṭhin ve tho in ka ring a. Chutih laiin a zuartuten sorkar rate chauh an changchawi a, theihai man an hniam theih hauh loh chuan thlai thar paih vek a, pawisa a tlem emaw a tam emaw chan tawp kha a ni mai a. Thlai paih chhiat ai chuan Rs 5 te te pawh a ṭha zawk zel tho.

December 2025 khan Vairengte ah alu leh parbawr kan lei a. Alu hi a zat chiah ka hre tawh lo na in Aizawla kg 1 ka lei theihna zat in Vairengte ah kg 3 ka lei thei a. Parbawr hi kg 1 cheng 30 in ka lei a, Aizawl ka haw in kg 1 cheng 80 in ka lei a, Hnahthial ah khan ka hriat sual loh chuan cheng 120 in ka lei. A em em deuh e, ka tia. Transportation Cost hi chu thil awm a ni a, a tur ve reng pawh a ni. Mahse a over hret hi chu a awm a. Nutrition thlir phei chuan Hnahthial-a chawhmeh to lutuk chu a va ṭha lo ka ti ta rum rum.

Aibawk ah ka awm laiin ar vulh ho nen kan titi ṭhin a. Ar man hi sorkar/society in a man a set a, tih hi min hrilh ṭhin dan a ni a. Keiin arsa man sorkarin a bituk tih hi Maximum Price angah ngai ula, a aia tlawm chuan hralh thei tho ula, Customer Base siam ila, Aizawl leh Serchhip tal supply tum ang u, ka ti ṭhin a. Kan thleng thui lem lo. Silchar ar lakluh khap sak tura ngenna kha BDO ah kan dawng ṭhin a. Ka vulh ve lem loh vangin ka hriatthiam phak loh chin a tam a, Financial Management a MBA chu theory chauh kan hriatna chen a tam bawk piah lamah theory pawhin Mizoram context kan zir ngai lo hrim² nen, ka ṭang na lem lo. Mahse tun thleng hian Aibawk-ah Aibawk block chhunga ar vulh aia Silchar ar a la tlawm zawk tho theih nachhan kha ka la hrethiam thei lo.

Silchar ar chu an naupang a, tih hi argument 1 a ni a. Lehlamah chuan Mizo tho in Silchar ar naupang chu kan lei duh tho si chuan ar naupang deuh, chaw an heh tak taka chawm an hautak hma khan hralh ve ta mai ila, a ṭha tho lo em ni? Mizo kaa tui, ar puitling, thau tawh ang kha a hranpa deuhin a ṭhen azawng vulh ve mai theih awm tak kha a nia. A ti pawh an awm tho ka ring, mi zawng zawng nen kan titi lem lo a.

Champhai hi ka awm rei a. Thlai zawng chuan a tlawm hran bik lo na in a variety a ṭha thung a. Manipur leh Burma buai hma, min supply hneh em em lai phei kha chuan Aizawl aiin thei phei chu kan hmu ṭha zawk a, a tlawm zawk. Covid lai pawhin thei kan tlachham tak tak lo. Treasury ah ka awm lai vel phei kha chuan a thla a thla ka awm ṭhin bawk nen, Aizawl ka haw hi chuan chawhmeh hi ka hawn hnem ṭhin a. 

Bawngsa ka hawn hnem ber ṭumin kg 20 ka hawn a. Ka fridge ah leng hek lo, Treasury staff Vengthara awm ve ho Freezer ah kan dah khal nghek a. A nawm dan a dangdai ve. Bawngsa kha khatih lai khan a ti kg 1 cheng 400 in ka lei a, Vengthar hovin min duhsak bawk a, a ti ṭha min dah sak ṭhin a. Aizawl ah kg 1 cheng 600 a lo ni a, 20 kgs ah chuan kan hlep ṭha phian. 

Bawngsa piah lamah chuan Nghalpui hi ka pu in a duh ṭhin a, a tlawm in a tak zawk a, ka hawn sak ṭhin a; a lawm thei phian a. Nghachik rep hi a man zat chiah ka hre tawh lo na in ka nu nen price kan compare a, a kg-a ka hawn fo ṭhin zinga mi chu a ni ve.

Local thlai leh ran sa man a tlawm thei miah lo hi hriatthiam a harsa ka ti ṭhin a. Market lam aṭanga thlir chuan mihring kan la tlem vang emawni aw, ka ti a. Demand a tam loh chuan Supply kha a ti khaihlak a. A letling zawngin Supply a ṭhat loh miau chuan Demand ngaihna awm lo ve bawk nen. December aṭanga ka rilru luahtu ta chu Demand leh Supply in market price siamrem tir ai chuan Association in kan siam rem a, a tawpah chuan a zuartu in a tuar mai piah lamah a leitu pawhin a tuar phah ta mai mai lawm ni le, ka ti ta deuh.

Kan vengah ar puah sa kg 1 cheng 280 a ka lei theih laiin bazar ah 350 a ni a. Engvangin nge 280 a ka lei theih, home delivery theih na na na, bazar ah ka zuk kal anga 350 + petrol man + ka energy leh hun ka zuk sen kher ang? Arsa ka lei dawn chuan dawr duh bik ka nei ta a. Anni in englai pawha arsa ei reng, kar tina lei duh customer min nei ta mai bawk a. Keini ang tho chhungkaw dang an awm ve nual nen, customer base ṭha tak an nei nghal a, bazar-a ṭhut man an pek a ngai lo bawk a, anni tan pawh a hlawk tho. Market hi supply leh demand in a chin fel theih mai chin a awm a, sorkar a in rawlh na tur chu a lutuk ven na chauh hi ni se Leitu leh Hralhtu tan a ṭha.

Control tu fel taka awmna ah chuan Competition hi thil ṭha a ni a. Kan intihsiak loh chuan fel tumin awmzia a nei lo a, tih ṭhat duhna a awm thei lo bawk. Kan lawmman chu pawisa a ni emaw, hmingṭhat a ni emaw, mahni inthiamna a ni emaw, thil dang a ni emaw, engemaw lawmman awm loh chuan mihringin hma kan sawn lo. Market pawhin intihsiakna engemaw chen tal a awm loh chuan hma a sawn thei lo. Hmasawn lohna market hi a return a tlem lo thei lo a, hlawkna tam ve deuh hlek duh si chuan cost-cutting measures a lo hman loh theih loh a, product duhthusam pha lo, “a quality a qual lo” tih ang chi kan siam chhuah phah a, tu tan mah thil ṭha a ni hran lo. Kurtai siam apianga chini-a pawlh dal ziah ang chi te.. thil ṭha vak a ni lo. Return customer neih pawh a har. Tunge thil ṭha lo lei nawn lei nawn duh bik ang?

Vawksa man hike ka rilrua a thawh nat em em nachhan 1 leh chu a jump sang lutuk kha a ni a. 400 atanga 450 a kai dawrh kha chuan kg 4 vawksa kan leina ṭhin zatin vawi leh khatah kg chanve a hma aiin kan lei tlem thei ta zawk a, pawisa hlutna a tla chak fu. Uṭawk chhuan so an sawi ang deuh khan kan tuar tur rau rau ah thil man hi zuang awk awk lo ṭhin deuh se, kan tuar dam zawk fu dawn si a. 

Hemi relate deuh, Millenium Centre ah pawh kawr man han zawt ila “3000 man a nia, 2500 in ka pe ang che” an tih chuan lawmawm deuh mai a ni. Cheng 500 tlawm hnawk kha chu tam tham deuh a ni. Han chhui chiang lah pek ila, cheng 1200 vela an lak, 2000 pawhin hralh se (chu sawi loh 1500 pawhin hralh se) an hlawk tho tawhna tur te a lo ni leh pek bawk a. Thil man hi a jump sang ṭhin a ni.

Lei duhtu an awm tho a, thawmhnaw phei chu a to loh chuan a ṭha lo emaw an ti tho, kan hralh thei lo, tih hi ka hre tawh bawk a. Mizoram Market hi essential market lehzel pawh luxury market ang deuh thawa kal na chen hi a nei leh zeuh ṭhin a. Thil fascinating tak, zirchian tham a ni.

Vawksa ah bawk chuan let leh ila. Mizoram sorkarin Market Regulation Dan a siam ṭhin a, thlai hnah – antam, anthur, bakhate etc – te thlengin a man a bituk a. 

Pakhatna ah chuan, “Upper limit” tih a ni ṭhin lo deuhin ka hria a. Ni mai se, mahni thlai thar te chu mahni duh zat angin kan chhiar tho a, te ka ti a. Ka thu lo mai bawk si a. Association chakna tak takah phei chuan mi aia sa man cheng 20 a lo hralh tlawm pawh an in hrem bawk nen, Karl Marx te sawisel tur hi chu kan ni vak lo.

Pahnihna ah chuan, Delhi ah West Kidwai Nagar ah kan cheng ṭhin a. INA Market ah vawksa kg1 cheng 90 in a lei theih a, A tui vak lo a, rep hmui a ngai ṭhin a, kan rep peih tho a, pocket money kan ngah vak lo nen, INA vawksa kan lei a, kan rep ṭhin a. Chutih laiin Pigpo ah te, Khubchand ah te chuan vawksa kg 1 hi Rs 200-300 te a lo ni a, an hmui mawm deuh a, an chhum tawp tlak a, an tuihnai zawk a. Vawksa chhum tawp, engmah dang thlak loh, tur atan chuan tlema to deuh hlek kan lei ṭhin. 

Mizoramah vawk kan vulh dan a in ang lo a. A sa man erawh a in ang vek thung a. Vawk sa, a thau bawl deuh ṭhem ṭhum leh ṭhenawmte vawk, an vulh dan leh duat dan kan hriat vek te, a man zat in ang vek hi chu uluk taka vawk vulh tan incentive a nuai bo fu. Tuikuk vawk kan tih ang te, Yorkshire pig te nen an sa a in ang lo leh a, an man erawh a in ang vek tho a. Tual vawk leh Burma vawk pawh a in ang vek tho. Kobe beef leh Wagyu steak market te chu kan la hlat hret.

Tih ṭhat man a awm vak lo. Tih chhiat deuh pawhin kan communist/socialist angreng a, Dan Pui leh Pawl Dan ten min protect vek. Chu bakah duh zat zat lei tur pawh a la awm meuh loh na economy ah chuan engemaw chenah Supply/Demand tih ngawt chuan a la kal theih hmel loh a. Association leh pawl khuahkhirhna hnuai aṭang ni lem lova hmasawn hun erawh chu a nghahhlelhawm.

Pathumna ah chuan, farmer ni ta ila, vawk vulh emaw leilet huan thlai neih emaw, sangha dil nei emaw ten ei zawng ila, sorkar in ka thil thar man min ruat sak tawp chu ka la na viau in ka ring a. Sorkar rate aiin lo hralh sang ila, min hek chiam tu an awm pawh ka ring lem lo a. Moot Point lek lek ve deuh a. Mahse farmer ka ni lem lo a. Sorkar hna ka thawk a, ka hlawh sorkar in min pe a, ka lungawi fu a. Mahse hemi point tak hi he blog rawn chhuahna a ni thung. Sawi tur ka nei tlem a, zirchian ka chak hle thung a, ngaihruat dan leh ngaihdan siam dan ka hre vak rih lo. Research paper awm se chhiar ka chak fu a. A ziaktu ni phei ila zir a nuam ka ti fu ang.

Delhi hi ka lehkha zirna a ni a, hmun danga thil man ka hre tam lo a. Delhi a sabji mandi hrang hranga thlai man inthlau theih em em danah hian sorkar in a man a bituk em em lo emawni aw, tih te ka rilru ah a awm a. Upper limit te (MRP thlengin), safety regulations te, food mileage leh farmer protection te hi chu Rampum huap ang te pawhin news ah a lang fo a, khatiang ni pha lem lo, a man tesep em em hi chu sorkar in a ngaihtuah vek lo em ni aw, ka ti ta deuh. Hrim hrimin thlai kan lei pawhin a kg in kan lei a, Mizorama chawhmeh kharchhawng hovin awm tawk an tih zat an tel tawp a, an hralh pawp ai hi chuan a man to tho tho ah pawh rilru a dam deuh.

Intermediaries tlem theih dan ber hi chawhmeh man tlawm theih dan chu a ni ber, tih hi Common Sense a hriat a ni a. Mahse Sociology ah chuan Common Sense hi paih bo phawt a, zirchian hnuah chauh thu sawi tur, kan ti ṭhin a. Mizoram thlai market ah pawh hian intermediaries an tam chuan a man a to tho na in, a thar tu te ngei aṭang pawhin kharchhawng man nen a danglam chuti teh vak chuang lohna hi a tam tho mai. Common Sense hi a dik vek seng lo.

BDO POV atang hian kan sawi zeuh zeuh ṭhin a. Zinkawng thingpui in paha titi a ni tlangpui a, research emaw hmalak tum em em emaw lam a ni lem lo bawk a. A ril vak lo a, a pipedream deuh a. Mahse kan lo sawi ve fo ṭhin chu Mizoram hi Point of Contact hrang hrangah ṭhen ila, thlai network hi ṭha tak a siam theih a rinawm. District 11 kan nei a, HQ tin hi POC an ni thei a. RD Block 28 a awm a, heng area zel pawh hi POC ah a hman theih chuan Mizoram chhung hi chu kan thlai thar te, kan USP vegetable leh fruits te hi kan in lei sak tawn thei ang a, a nuam ve fu ang, kan ti ṭhin. Sorkar ni lovin private players thawh ni thei phei se duhthusam. Chutiang ti thei khawpa pawisa nei ni ila, a titu nih phei chu chakawm lehzual.

Entirnan Champhai ah hian Pa Uithin te a tam lai chuan a tam a, a tui bawk a, a travel vak thei lo thung a; midangin an lo chah emaw, inthawn bik te a nih loh chuan miin an kharchhawng vak lo ang a. POC to POC ah erawh chuan Aizawl leh Hnahthial te pawhin an ei duh ve tho ka ring a. 

Thingtlang khua kan len kual ṭhin naah maipawl te, mai tai te, hralhna mai awm lem lo an lo awm ṭeuh a, a chang leh min hawn tir a. Aizawl ah POC fel tak awm se, thleng regular thei se chuan Aizawl ah maipawl hang deuh deuh, man man zawkin a awm ve thei mai awm se, kan ti ṭhin.

Tuaithur te hi Hnahthial ah ka hmu ngai lo a, Hnahthial ah POC ṭha tak awm se chuan Champhai lamin a kg in Tuaithur te chu an nei ṭhin a nia, tih ka ngaihtuah ṭhin. Bastenga Pork siam duh thut takin tiin Aizawl aṭanga chawhmeh bazar a ṭul leh ṭhin.

Champhai ah thei leh ser, local produce sawi tham a awm lo a. Sailam leh Chamring ah te chuan serthlum thlum tui tak tak an lo thar thung a. Champhai POC ah POC dang aṭanga sertawk, sermam, serthlum te an thlen theih mai chuan Mizoram hmun danga thei thar te an va hlu lehzual in a eitu turte an va lawmpuiawm dawn tak. 

Ka ngaihtuah hi a sang vak lem lo a, Mizoram chhung mamawh – mahni tharchhuah tihralna leh Mizorama mi vek man tlawm deuh zawka chhim ve theih dan – hi ka ngaihtuah a ni rih mai a. Ka hre tam vak lo. Sawi tawh ang khan a la castles in the air deuh a, kan hisap nasa thei em a, thawh theih tak tak a tlem em em si laiin ka mention ve mai mai.

A thui tawh mah mah. Disclaimer ziak ila, tawp rih teh ang. Naute thar kan nei a, ka nu in naute pian lawm nan vawksa kg a lei aiin vawk pum a hauh pop mai a, engzat man tak ni ang maw LOL.

Disclaimer: Sapṭawngin i ziak kher a, jump tih aiah zuang a tih theih tho a, tih ang kha ka hre sa tho e, thank yew! Ka ṭawng dan pangai ania, ka blog ania, a context bak grammar lam ka uluk vak hran lo. Chhiar ring phei ila chuan Mizo Aizawl Elite accent in ka chhiar ang. Calome. Tih loh ah chuan in discuss peih chuan ka discuss peih. Sociology ka zir lohna a rei tawh a, Sociological Theories phei chu hna ka hmuh kum, 2013 aṭangin ka chhiar leh ta lo. In refresh ṭhata Economic Sociology lama PhD Thesis tur khawpa zirchian ka chak ta riau. Theih tak maw!

Real Life is Stranger Than Fiction

Yk what's really funny about the whole Epstein files and how it has succeeded grandly in the terrorism line?

It's made everyone paranoid and all the conspiracy nuts are having a field day because guess what, sometimes those nutjobs and their whackadoodle theories turned out to be real. Just enough to make people think: if that is real, this could very well also be. It's good fun though, for people who love crazy stories. Such as die-hard sci-fi fans like me.

For example, aging.

Celebrities have never been allowed to get old and show their human-ness. But now celebrities who have become old and have mandatorily physically changed in the process are now believed to have been essentially cloned. As though no one is allowed to change. Like ever.

Britney? Cloned.

Miley? Cloned.

Ariana Grande? Cloned.

Taylor Swift? Cloned out of a Satanic Priestess.

Jim Carrey? Spoke out against the Illuminati and cloned and they didn't even get the eyes right.

Selena Gomez? Cloned and dead dead dead.

I wonder what it's like to have grown up, changed your beliefs, become different, meaner, kinder, more or less something, become somebody different from who you were at 16 and then the internet is like "the real her died in 2011 because she sacrificed herself to save her baby that she had with Justin Bieber and that baby is Kourtney Kardashian's 'son' Reign and JB has been mourning her hence his spiralling out and ooh, Hailey Bieber is his handler," it's like... heh???

It is already funny when people knew you and a situation five years ago and they think you're still stuck there with the same tea the same story, I mean I forget things from yesterday I am not the same person. I don't think these celebrities are either.

Also not to mention, having spent 100s of thousands of dollars on plastic surgery and products to have people claim you are an imposter is just chef's kiss! Not only are they saying you don't look like your younger self anymore (which let's face it, is a big reason for plastic surgery), they're also saying your surgeon made you look worse than you did before (which is ya, less than ideal).

The stupid part is they say certain people are clones because they don't look like their favs. Cloning, you'd think, especially of the sci-fi adult human kind in a big giant lab in a scary island, would produce units that you can't tell apart. The definition of cloning. No?

Some people have come up with a good explanation for this, again. Introducing Non Local Consciousness!! Of the quantum entanglement variety. Very Douglas Adam's Dirk Gently. Very The Daniels' Everything Everywhere All At Once. Very Dan Brown's Secret of Secrets. I think the less sci-fi inclined would be more familiar with astral projection and OBE. 

Which is how they're explaining why Selena Gomez seems taller than she used to be (she's literally grown up in the public eye, I think people do grow taller sometimes?) as well as don't talk like she used to (some debilitating condition apparently). So yes it is Selena Gomez's body (which they say is different looking so why bother?), but it is Geena Davis' soul! If that be true, Geena Davis is still alive and kicking! Did they clone her soul as well? Colour me most curious. Poor Geena Davis. She must be wondering why the internet is abuzz with her name quite out of the blue!

As to why they'd clone people or replace them with body doubles or NLC them, there is also a theory. Control. They are celebrities. They influence people. They numb you to the pains of reality. They are the beautiful scantily-clad Magician's Apprentice, their sleight of hand, their shiny distraction. This is the part I buy. I think art as entertainment and less "human soul" is a big product of Hollywood and its wannabes. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, perhaps one day it can be a duck... perhaps? 

For now, let me go check my Black Mirror aka IG for more cloning reels. It's grand fun.

The Precision Engineering of Joy

Something about old cars makes you happy. Or me, at any rate. When I was a kid, the cars I was familiar with were Gypsies, Jeeps and Ambassador cars. I was a happy enough kid. I was well-fed, well-watered and well-seasoned. Little joke there. But yes, for all intents and purposes, I was a regular kid. I cried when I was unhappy but I also spent a lot of time being happy. 

A lot of those times were spent hanging upside down because I was showing off my acrobatic skills. We took turns hanging upside down, anchored by our knee-joints off the support structure of our iron swing set. Either that or we’d hang on to the bar with both hands, then turn full circle, feet over head, and touch back down to the ground. 

The officers’ kids all attended the same school. So they’d cart us off in an old faded blue Jeep. The Jeep was always jam packed. On days when the Jeep was empty enough, we took turns doing the same routines in the moving vehicle from the support bar of the soft-top Jeep. We were insane but then again, we were also children. 

When we travelled, and we did that quite a bit, it was in a shiny white Gypsy. Most of my memories of road travels in Gypsies have me hanging on to the passenger seat, standing up, sometimes for eight hours, because I wanted to be close to my mother who was in the passenger seat, holding Samuel and Feli had dibs on the cushion stuffed between the driver and passenger seats. What did we need of hand-brakes; dad was on the wheel, yes? I think Lee was usually in the backseat, chatting up a storm because that kid had never been introduced to the concept of motion sickness.

Regular town trips were made in a white Ambassador car with the quirkiest driver in the world. He convinced us to think of sludge and mud on the road as coffee froth, which was endlessly entertaining to us kids. When there was a puddle, he’d speed up and send dirty puddle water flying in every direction, kids cheering everywhere! As an adult, I can’t imagine those stunts being anywhere good for the car, but back then, it didn’t matter. We had fun. And no one got car sick.

Those were, in the lingo of the excellent Pixar animation movie Inside Out, “core memories” in the making, I realise. This is probably why the thought of three cars has been fixated in my head: Mahindra Thar, Maruti-Suzuki Jimny and Volkswagon Beetle. 

Realistically, the Beetle was never going to reach me. So I thought I’d save up for a Thar. And I was, honest to god. From some time around Covid, I believe, if memory serves. But I test drove it one time the first chance I got and I realized it was wider than I was comfortable driving. As much as I loved its look and design, I realized I would never really drive a Thar. It truly is bigger than it looks. Which is how I decided to continue saving for a Jimny. A Jimny is still bigger than it appears but it is slenderer than a Thar. I would have to be comfortable with it if I was to ever own a car because as lovely as driving small cars are, I just like the looks and feel of the Jimny.

What do you want a 4x4 for? I get asked constantly. This is very valid. I truly don’t need it. I most probably will never take it anywhere that I would need a four-wheel drive for. But if I were to ever own anything purely for the aesthetics, this was it. Mostly I buy things for their functionality. But the most expensive thing I have ever owned turned out to be purely for the aesthetics. Life is funny that way.

I talked about it endlessly with my family. In 2024, I said: I’m getting promoted soon; if I get posted somewhere I don’t get a government allotted vehicle, I am buying a Jimny. That particular stipulation didn’t get fulfilled till January 2026. My sister Feli and my by-now good friend TZa helped me book one. A white Jimny was in stock and I didn’t even need to wait! Talk about meant to be.

I wrote the cheque for and drove home my Jimny on the 6th February, 2026. It was a Friday. It drives smooth. I am not a particularly smooth driver or it would drive even smoother. The engine hums and thrums with a quiet confidence. It is elevated so high I have to climb up a bit to get in. It looks smart and poised wherever it rests, dignified and graceful. Best I can say about it is – this is a car engineered for joy.

All of these have been a journey laced with the precision engineering of joy.

The Showgirl and the Gospel

You know how Dolly Parton looks. She jokes about it in good humour in the self-deprecating yet confident twang that is so her. She looks every inch the showgirl, with her OTT blonde wigs, her OTT plastic surgery, her OTT slender figure, her little flirty quips… quintessential showgirl!

She also recorded one of my favourite versions of my favourite hymns – Church In The Wildwoods. Nothing about her flirting or her tongue-in-cheek, off-colour jokes or her showgirl outfits and makeup have ever stopped her from singing gospel. You could say, she gives to Caeser what is Caeser’s. Yes?

Elvis Presley, too. Or Carrie Underwood. A lot of Hollywood artists never let their fame, fortune and Hollywood stop them from singing their gospel songs and hymns. Their roots, you could say.

What do we know of their “souls” or their tickets to heaven? What do we know of our own “souls” and our guaranteed (or not) entry into heaven? What do we know of anything for certain of The Beyond? All of Belief rests in that very word – faith. 

I mention all of these because I find it troubling when in Mizoram, people seem to divide music into two sections: gospel and love songs. Not all songs can be categorized in those two sections! Besides, those aren't even true genres. It frustrates the core of my being when people give their testimonies and say: I can’t sing love songs anymore because I am born-again. (I want to swear here but it seems inappropriate to do so just here.) 

Whatever I mentioned about Dolly Parton or Elvis Presley or Carrie Underwood is this: no matter how worldly they appear or how they earn their livelihood, they don't abandon their God or their church or their Belief. What do I know of souls? Or play-acting Believer or not? That is immaterial. What is factual is they get all decked up in Hollywood fineries AND they will also attend church and sing gospel.

I find this worth mentioning because we seem to say the exact opposite in Mizoram of singers. Look how worldly they are and yet they dare to sing gospel songs! we say (and spit on the ground, perhaps.)

What is dare? It is not because people are so spiritual that they sing gospel. Perhaps a section of gospel singers are truly spiritual. But there's a vast majority that sings gospel - especially in church - because of the music and how it moves them beyond the lyrics. Sometimes the tune simply just hits right.

Besides which, I believe God gives us different talents. If your talent is bureaucracy, bury your nose in the red tape and help government push along. If your talent is teaching, help the younger generation learn. If your talent is numbers, perhaps start a business or trade. If your talent is singing, sing. FFS.

Nobody ever accuses government servants or entrepreneurs or doctors or engineers or footballers as shameless for daring to sing or preach the gospel despite how they earn their livelihood. Or how they dress in their places of work. Why measure singers differently?

The world always needs art. Keep them coming. The world is bleak. Some days art is all that helps us survive.