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!

Another Town, Another World

Comedy often gets lost in translation. So truly, I pity the people who won’t get the whip dry comedy of Pu Biaka as he talks about his hunting prowess. One hour straight of never cracking up as he drawls in this low, measured voice, recounting his many extraordinary experiences in the game? Transcendental experience.

I mean how in the world does someone talk about if all the monkeys I’ve killed came back to life, they’d fill up the football stadium for the World Cup finale and then top it off with but I don’t really consider monkey as game? Hilarious. Or, I don’t have much experience fishing but I guess the biggest fish I caught was the catfish I shared with 300 people and when it rained, we propped its mouth up and took shelter in the cave of the mouth? Hi-fucking-larious.

Of course, people seem to know him best for the wildly beautiful Lasi – nymphs, maybe, I don’t know; or elvenfolk in the manner of LOTR and not Harry Potter – he has supposedly known. Biblically. I’ve heard of many people who claim to have Lasi lovers but I’ve never heard of a Lasi college! Also I’ve never heard of castes of Lasi. That wit was blazing sharp.

In another world, another town, he could be famous. He could really cash in on this. When I met him, he told me people have indeed suggested he take up comedy as a vocation. That he could possibly earn decent money from this routine.

I agree. I think he has great potential. I am a fan of dry comedy. Always have been. My favourite authors have been known for their razor-sharp wit. Douglas Adams, Bill Bryson, KC, JK Rowling, Terry Pritchard, Neil Gaiman, Andrew Kaufman, Marian Keyes, Mindy Kaling, Jug Suraiya, Richard Ayoade, Khushwant Singh… all amazingly witty. I don’t know how rich they all are but going by how I have had access to them before the explosion of social media, I think they have a pretty penny each to their names. Assuming fame and fortune go hand in hand. And I’m guessing they do. To a certain point, at least.

This is a problem with living in a shitty economy. I know a senior in my service who would be aces as a CEO of a big-ass company but they’re not because we’re in Mizoram and as Mizoram economy goes, being MCS is stable, secure, decently-paid, powerful enough, in short, dream job. I’ve often thought about how it would be grand to do something else but in this economy, what I have is good. Which sucks. Because I think sometimes that if I were in a richer economy, I’d be trying out for something else than government service. I’m not saying I’d excel, but I’d try out. In Mizoram, it’s harder to be brave, career-wise. Especially when you know you lack tenacity.

Moving on.

There are Mizo people who are so witty they amaze me. I often watch youtube clips of Mastea (a current favourite) and earlier Mapuia (Zephyr/FTH, I guess), and earlier still listened to Thangkura and Leikhi Miss. Comedy changes with time. The people and material do, too. However, these people are usually of a different make than Pu Biaka, though. While a grand variety of the best of Mizo comedy is slap-stick or at least physical, Pu Biaka’s brand is bone dry, sedate and yet, this world-building he does on the spot is truly the mark of a sparkling wit, and proves he’s not just a dazzling wordsmith. For that, I’d marvelled and extolled. This was why while I have no real drive to meet any of the professional comedians, I’d wanted to meet Pu Biaka in person. I’d wanted to shake his hand, let him know his wit was appreciated. I’d wanted to sit and have tea with him and chat with him, listen to him chat in person. And thankfully, I did get to shake his hand and take a picture with him.

Which is a good story in itself! The day I got transferred to Hnahthial and I realized Pu Biaka was a resident of Hnahthial district and not far from the town at all, I was very excited. I made plans to locate and meet him. I eagerly waited for the first weekend so I could go look for him. I was fully prepared to use my office as a means to get to him. Which I did. I got the name and number of the village council leaders and asked around. Interestingly, his house was right across the village council president’s. And even though the monsoon road was not ideal for a weekend joyride (there were three major landslides and at one location, half the road have caved in), I went. He was not home.

I tried again the following weekend. He was again not home. But the third time I pestered the village council people over his whereabouts, they could locate him. But in the middle of nowhere on a jungle road. He was caked in mud, from cheeks to boots, I might add. Very fitting manner to meet a Great Hunter, I should have known.

They say you should not meet your heroes. Because they disappoint. Not Pu Biaka. That meeting was not disappointing. At all.