Soaring Wings

It feels like home to be in Aizawl amidst a new tribe of Korean movie fans and unchecked inflation, says DAVID BUHRIL.

I watched the pre-Christmas mood set away from various places. I was in Aizawl first. I returned to the mountain city one sunny day. It felt like homecoming. My hangover-like head, from the sleep deprived journey, marred by gothic-like face of air-hostesses wearing overdose make-up and plastic smile was healed not long after I stepped into home ground. Rohminglien Buhril and Lienthanglur Khawzawl received me from Lengpui Airport. I told them they reminded me of Denver’s Green Green Grass of Home. After the long flight from the heart of a disorder cow-belt, it was a relief to see a youthful and cheerful Aizawl getting ready for Christmas. Posters announcing upcoming concerts occupy every possible space. BoneyM was one of the much talked about bands to visit the music loving city. The band’s colourful dress code, bushy hair, and disco beats would still sweep the city’s new generation with their undying songs if they played with the spirit of their old magic. Everything cannot die.

In Aizawl I was made to feel like I landed in some Korean movie shooting sets. The cozy mountain city has transported itself to be more Korean than Mizo after the great invasion by Korean movies. The city has gone beyond aping and imitating everything that goes in and out of Seoul. We have embraced too much of the other side that we know too little of. The next day, after I reached Aizawl, I read in the newspaper about the growing Korean-literate population. I am afraid that tomorrow the authorities would rush to take the move to declare itself as the first ever 100% Korean-literate State in the country. To his surprise, I told my friend that Aizawl has lost its Mizoness than anything else. I am afraid that when tomorrow we wake up to gnaw our roots, we may find ourselves wading in the loss.

CDs of Korean movies stacked Aizawl street corners, besides Chinese goods and second-hand clothes from everywhere. Clothes and bags bearing the mark of giant designer’s house littered the streets. Posters and stories of Korean movie stars seem hotter than those delicious cookies from Zote Bakery. Some magazines carry translation of Korean movies. Korean movies were also translated into Lushai- Mizo in the local channels. I hope the translations were fair enough. Everyone is a beggar when it comes to translation. Luther too. But I hope we are at least somewhere close to the meaning.

Korean stars are worshipped; bigger than small gods. Boys and girls, the new generation, were all dressed up like what one see in Korean movies and TV channels. The hair styles were confusing lot, though. Sometimes it was almost difficult to make out between a boy and a girl. The dress code, make up and all the accessories that came along with it were more than enough for the show. It was like landing in a State sponsored fancy dress parade. A new other tribe, with excessive inclination to everything feminine, is taking over our society. I am afraid my grandson would end up marrying a Mizo boy for being too Korean. The more Mizo one meets, the more Korean-like we have become. Bharat Bollywood heroes and heroines would score very low in the Mizo general knowledge.

Mizoram is seriously inclined towards hero-worshiping. We always seek something outside us to worship. Had we been Hindus, we would have more gods than the Hindus today. But again, we are bad worshippers. Very soon we will shove away the present god’s from all the spaces that we have allowed them to indulge. Then the new quest for newer gods would take over again to change our looks, taste, dresses and language. Will it be before the Christmas again?

Pu Hawla led Congress Government announcement to implement the 6th Central Pay Commission in the State was printed big and large in the local headlines. The decision was inevitable. However, the unchecked inflation that is already dividing the society is bound for more cracks. The poor majority will find the near future more difficult to negotiate than tolerate. Many of us would be compelled to resort to religion, songs, music and magic to numb the differences that are already sticking their heads high. While it negates the value of money for the privileged few, it wrecked the greater deprived others who will never come to terms with the raise that will never reach them down. The future will be all about negotiating with differences than leveling them. There lies the crux of survival. The mite of man would surface bigger anytime than the might of man.

What else? Well, the idol and icon search seem endless. Except for the contestant’s new, again Korean-like hairstyles and dress code, there could not be anything new for the wannabe rock stars. Contemporary Mizo songs and music is seriously confronting deficiency syndrome. The newly churned out materials sound lot alike. Our songs and music have no identity yet. They are like unsuccessful test-tube babies that could never stand the test of time. There seems plenty. But we almost have nothing. Unless we retreat and trace our roots, we are merely celebrating Vanity Fair. Our indulgence with the absence is mere market gimmicks that neither serve our thirst nor hunger for that solitary quest. We cannot afford to allow or celebrate this decadence any longer.

The other time, my visit coincided with the search that was designed to scout talents for Indian Idol. The attempt was good. However, we seem to forget that singing, particularly in Hindi and other languages, is more than wagging the tongue to ape it right. Rather, singing is strongly embedded in history and culture. With our history as well as current history strongly flavoured with anti – Vai temper, it will take more than singing right to walk that hall of fame. Our lack overdose. They are out of touch with that long inherited tradition that defines the touch of ragas and other rich vocal legacy that we suddenly try to embrace. Nothing can really be sudden, if not an accident. And we shall never cross those barriers by accident. The bottom-line is that we could do better if we could invest to promote indigenous music, sound and taste that would blend well with our talent, culture and identity. Otherwise, we could extinct ourselves, like one of those endangered species, if the aping festival continues. When the world outside us are lauding in cultural revival, our excessive import of foreign culture is only gnawing the little space left for us. We further harm ourselves by becoming self-styled ambassadors and exporting the mess to other parts of Zoram Khawvel where it flows murkier than in Mizoram.

What more? I should not exit without mentioning about the Cana spirits in Mizoram. Prohibition is making the State thirstier than the rest of the States. The thirst is like a disease that causes vast human suffering. Its market is black. The unquenchable lots, like beggars, were compelled to acquaint with the already fuelled black market. Cana spirits is a luxury, though not rare. We cannot afford to polish the social and economic consequences with prohibitions on. Despite the Christian attempt to carve the unattainable good boy image, prohibition is like trying to solve Aizawl’s traffic problem by putting a ban on buying vehicles. Or should we ease the traffic mess by putting a ban on the import of oil from Assam? That’s ridiculous. Besides, Mizo knows too well to handle a chicken in more than twenty four ways.

The prohibition strategy has failed. It is not stopping the flow of the targeted item. It is neither reducing the people who are supplying and consuming the mistaken spirits. The naked resolution needs a serious rethinking than merely scoring high in the image building race, which is more that of a Pharisee than a Christian. In the US during the 1970s Richard Nixon initiated the war on drugs with the belief that demand can be curbed by eliminating supply. That was again inherited and enunciated by every US President and British Prime Minister. Tony Blair went to the extent of hatching the occupation of Afghanistan to rid the streets of Britain of heroin. The result is a big, bloody, blown-out war, which is still on. After all the loss of lives and the great misery, according to the UN, Britain’s got the highest number of problem drug user in Europe.

The problem with us is that we tend to shift the blame outside us. Despite the decade old prohibition, the battle is not even half-started yet. Sometimes I wonder if we are keeping the prohibition to kill the thirst or to hide our incapability to produce good spirits. When governments outside us are reaping their share of the Cana spirits, boosting economy, generating employment, and cultivating better food culture and sub-culture out of it, we have to find a more humane and responsible alternative to sweep the rotten mess clogged under our carpet. Or should we say, to be more Samaritan than a Pharisee. A Brazilian judge comment I read puts me into serious thought: The mountain that must be climbed is licensing, regulating and taxing supply, thus ending a prohibition now outstripping in absurdity and damage…

If a new resolution in politics and policy does not effect to represent change in Mizoram by touching lives, agriculture, education, and mindset, we will continue to degenerate in the image making game. Shall we forgive one another, if tomorrow a new tribe of confused Mizo assert themselves to be Korean- Mizo? Will you forgive if every man started wearing women’s dress? Will you still forgive if the black market grows bigger with the hands of our supposed “big men” (Milian/Milien) oiled and greased to let slip everything that comes their way. Will you still tolerate if the revered Church clap the loudest, a receiving stamp for such people, on seeing their faithful tithes and contribution? Don’t even wonder who will capture the growing black market tomorrow. It will only create many fortunate sons from across the border that will change the demography and the course of Mizoram. I remember Cana as I also do of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. The archaic stand is merely an immoral idiocy. An insult. Irrelevant for the greater progressive people who are weigh down by a small coterie of power hungry lot who mistook their obligations for a dictate. Tell them there could be an election very soon in the Taliban infested Afghanistan. Tell them they have all the required qualities in their quest for that elusive power and glory.

*About the author: David Buhril is winner of Ramnath Goenka Excellence in Journalism Awards 2006-2007. Courtesy: Hmar.In