Art, Artists and Acts of Love

Siamthangi Hauhnar was my Madonna. My sister and I thought she was out of this world. She was edgy. She was cool. She was pretty. She wore deep lipstick and lined her eyes. Her hair was so huge. She wore highly fashionable clothes. My sister and I loved her. To paraphrase Sabrina Carpenter, it was probably because she was a singer.

One day, my dad took us to meet her at her house because they’d met at some function or the other and he’d told her about these two little skinny girls idolizing her and she said to bring them over some time. I don’t think we told her we were coming the day we actually did it though. Courtesy of house-visit rules were always a little sketchy back in the day. But that was OK because we got to meet her.

Many years later, my dad would again take us both to meet another woman related to the music world. This time it was Pi Sailovi. This had more ceremony though. He knew her and her family properly. He'd told her about his daughters and she was amused but agreed to meet us. She received us as proper houseguests. Also it was a Sunday afternoon so the visit felt more formal. For those who don’t know, she is the titular muse of Matehawngi. We chatted with her over tea and biscuits. She told us about her boyfriend at the time who wrote that song for her. She told us about how they arranged the music; she thinks they borrowed the tune from some old English song. She told us about when she was a young girl and how different life had been at the time. We took pictures. I loved that meeting!

For people who don’t know my dad, this is very out of character for him because he doesn’t sing. He cannot remember any lyrics. He can barely hold a tune. Most church worship where we sing hymns, he sings Air in a lower, deeper register and pretend it’s Bass. He thinks all Jim Reeves and Boney M songs are Christmas songs. Which is why I’ve always thought that the way you show you listen to people is when you act on them. Just saying. Acts of love, some people sometimes call it. Whatever it was, we met Matehawngi!

Speaking of acts of love, one day, my mum handed me this one beat-up old book that she thought I might like. Pink cover torn at some corners and whose print was more Cyclostyle than computer. The barely legible cover print said it was called Omnus. It was a tiny book and since this was the woman who had introduced me to books that I have not regretted reading, including the Bible, Jack & The Beanstalk and Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I sat down to read. Omnus by C Laizawna remains today my favourite Mizo fiction novel. Ever. One day Chhana took me to go meet C Laizawna at his residence. He was very surprised. We talked over tea and he told me how he wrote that story. He signed my beat-up old copy and gifted me his other book Anita, a favourite of my cousin Avala. My mum who does not indulge in fantasies and believes reluctantly in spirits but not ghosts, who holds virtually no superstitions, who thinks fairy tales are a general waste of time, read this book about UFO and aliens and thought of me and took the time to purchase the book for me. Acts of love, I believe, we said?

The most recent of me meeting my heroes is the time I met Tuipui D’s Pu Biaka, the comic who told tall tales of his hunting prowess and affairs with wood nymphs. His mastery of Story-telling was bewitching. I am awed by his ready wit and matter-of-fact delivery. The first time I got news I was going to be in Hnahthial, he was one of the first persons that came to mind. I’d blogged about meeting him and he is also the inspiration to this one again. Meeting heroes is sometimes a lot of fun! Just don’t be a bitch and expect them to be perfect. Pobody’s nerfect.

I am very glad that these have happened to me because it’s funny to me how they happen. There are so many interesting people in this world. I love the idea that these artists who are worlds apart in their trades have created art of the sort that is so engaging that a mundane old soul like mine have come in their contact. Art is how we tell people they are not alone, that someone else also feels what they feel, even if we are separated by time and space. Art is what gives us escape and consolation when Life becomes too much for us. Art is what makes us human.

Some days, art is all we have to get through a day. Or a kitten. But mostly art. And that’s quite a good thing!

Nang A Thu, Kei A Thluk?

Music is beyond all the magic they do at Hogwarts. 

A long time ago, I heard, quite by chance, a song by a blind opera singer that I understood not a single word of. But it made me feel things I did not understand. Google has taught me since what the song was about but it didn’t really matter. I loved it before I understood it. The song being Con Te Partiro by Andrea Bocelli. My favourite version is the Anglo-Italian version, the English part rendered by Sarah Brightman. I can listen to this song at any point in time. I never get tired of it. I still don’t fully understand all the feels it makes me feel but I love it. That has not changed.

Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore discussed the superiority between tune and words in Music & Lyrics. I don’t remember what they agreed on, but I think probably a marriage of both. A tune without the lyrics is still music, but lyrics without the tune becomes poetry. There’s still a gentle melody in poetry, though, so I’m not sure why I made the distinction. 

There are a ton of Mizo songs that have used western (or otherwise) music for the words. Kan Zotlang Ram Nuam by Rokunga is also a lift of an old country (or folk?) song by Bob Willis and his Texas Playboys called Faded Love. When I visited Pi Sailovi one time I asked her about Matehawngi which was written for her, and she said she thinks they just used the tune of some western pop song but she no longer remembered what song. People do this all the time. Even Kya Kehna is a direct lift of Oh Carol. It is how we enjoy different arrangements and aside from copyright infringements and all that, I think it is nice. I don’t really think gatekeeping music is all that necessary. Art is art and art is designed to be shared. No? I don’t know.

In April this year, one woman forced me to buy at least one item from her second-hand pile. I don’t usually buy thrift these days but I purchased one T-shirt because I liked the colour and the French words in the front. In an idle moment, I Googled what the phrase meant and was pleasantly surprised to find out it was a song lyric. Quelques mots d’amour by Michel Berger, if you want to Spotify it. If you’re anything like me, you won’t regret it.

Around the same time, I also watched a lot of food reels on YouTube and Instagram. Very often they’d play this one sweet song I didn’t really know what language it even was. One day, on the comment section, I saw someone say they loved this song as well. It occurred to me then to look for this and I did and found it was called Mori no Chiisana Restaurant by Aoi Tashima. Japanese, if you couldn’t tell. Such a sweet song. I’ve been playing it on loop for ages now.

These are by no means isolated incidents or novelty experiences for me. I’ve always had a tendency to love songs I didn’t understand. When Shakira came out with Laundry Service, she had a song in it called Te Dejo Madrid. I fell in love at first listen. I never bothered to learn what it meant but I memorized the entire song from intense and continuous replays. I can still sing the entire song. I can’t sing her other Spanish songs but I love some of them all the same – like Gitana (over Gypsy), or Suerte (over Whenever, Wherever mostly) or the newest diss track BZRP Music Session #53. Aside from the ones where she does the same song in both languages, I have no idea what the lyrics mean. Especially Te Dejo Madrid. I have never even bothered Googling it. It doesn’t matter.

Sometimes they are silly. Like Aseraje by Las Ketchup. I know all the words. No idea what it means. Doesn’t bother me in the slightest.

Or that one Khasi song Uff Ka Jingied. The one by the four girls in formation choreograph in the café. I don’t know the ladies but what a beautiful song! I know I’m not alone in saying this because everyone in Mizoram who grew up in the 90s know “that Khasi song”. Music really does transcend languages and I know this for a fact because when I was studying in Delhi, I don’t think there was a single Naga owned laptop that did not have a Michael M Sailo song in it. Sometimes people asked me to write down lyrics for them. This was how I learnt some Mizo songs like Damlai Par by Mami Varte and of course, Pari Zun by Michael M Sailo. I think also Hmeltha Sensiar by him and SP-i.

I’ve often wondered if the true test of music is how a song is still beautiful if arranged differently or without music, in a symphony. Taylor Swift’s music has often been criticized for being stuck in a teenage angst by people who don’t bother to listen to her. If you give her music a try, it works without the lyrics too, a lot of times. Although to be honest, sometimes the words are what we feel the most, too. Even people like Shania Twain. She did a duet of Still The One with Paula Fernandes, a Brazilian singer who sang her part in Portugese. Chills. Gorgeous. Or remember the time Il Divo did Unbreak My Heart in Spanish, retitling it Regresa a Mi? Lovely.

I’m not very good at music so I don’t recognize a lot of world famous compositions. I mean, I know Beethoven’s Für Elise and Symphony No 5, or Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, mostly from movies, mostly all from Bugs Bunny, to be honest. Bizet’s Carmen especially. Looney Tunes has always been good at this. I just sort of listened to them properly after I grew up but I also always have Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck and Porky Pig in mind whenever I listen to these pieces. Image association, possibly. Funny how the mind works. Doctor Who is very good at music, to me. One of my favourite ever piece is Clara’s Theme from somewhere in Eleven’s run. Beautiful.

I guess my takeaway in all of this is that Dumbledore was indeed right when he said music was beyond all the magic they did at Hogwarts. Beyond.