Chin-Mizo and other hyphenated people group expats in SoCal met to celebrate the 61st anniversary of the Chin Day.
I'm sure the organizers had their best intentions to line up a talk on "Chin Migrants in India." A very gracious Dr. Hrangkhuma tactfully deflected the title's problematic implications to suggest the underlying commonalities that should/could be better celebrated. All in all, a great evening of fun food and reconnecting with like folk in the area.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009
"I am a 'Decider'"
The Obama dispensation has fueled much postmortem dissections of the preceding Bush idiocracy. Stand-up fare almost misses Bush for all the ready-made fodder he never failed to deliver. Not that I am particularly invested in such an indulgence but rather that the much publicized Bushisms seemed, in a wry manner, to put some of my thoughts in perspective- here's my shot at a systematized reflection.
Having fended for myself over the last three decades, I almost got to consider my solitude as a conclusive self-definition. A psychiatrist friend once sized me as overtly gregarious and yet innately introverted. I seemed to have passively internalized his evaluation while always conscious that another part of me wanted to break the mold. Recent run-ins to make longterm connections fell flat with each failed connection seeming to thicken the mold.
While on a teaching stint at a theological college in Aizawl, a rather unassuming Kimi walked into our faculty meeting. Nothing significant transpired beyond the perfunctory student-teacher interactions. But images from that first encounter remain as fresh as ever. There was that one time when a student's mother passed away and we had to rush to the hospital. It being an emergency, Kimi jumped behind me on my bike. I admit I was tempted to apply that strategically timed brake; but resisted. Kimi was always that forbidden allure. Academic protocol would just not let me step beyond our bounds. (As a disclaimer, these details should never crop up on my résumé!)
I moved across continents and solitude could not have been more palpable. That’s when I called Kimi to greet her on a Christmas in 2006, well, also to reconnect with someone who had once made me skip a few heartbeats. Over a few tri-monthly calls, I popped the question where angels feared to tread. Protocol, academic and/or societal, always limited full expression of the innermost longings. My phone bills though were a little more telling. An invitation to participate in a symposium at Kolkatta provided me much needed funds and all the legit excuses to make a trans-Pacific detour to Aizawl to meet Kimi for the first time, now no longer a student, as my partner. The phone calls intensified in frequency, length, and tenor.
One year down the line, we decided to make public our mutual commitment before friends and family through marriage. Though not as neatly contrived as a syllogism should be, the structure of these memories I gather seem to fit in neatly with Bush’s sill(y)ogism. Long term commitments are decisive moves that one grapples with and hopefully perseveres to see through. I, for one, am a decided-er!!
Having fended for myself over the last three decades, I almost got to consider my solitude as a conclusive self-definition. A psychiatrist friend once sized me as overtly gregarious and yet innately introverted. I seemed to have passively internalized his evaluation while always conscious that another part of me wanted to break the mold. Recent run-ins to make longterm connections fell flat with each failed connection seeming to thicken the mold.
While on a teaching stint at a theological college in Aizawl, a rather unassuming Kimi walked into our faculty meeting. Nothing significant transpired beyond the perfunctory student-teacher interactions. But images from that first encounter remain as fresh as ever. There was that one time when a student's mother passed away and we had to rush to the hospital. It being an emergency, Kimi jumped behind me on my bike. I admit I was tempted to apply that strategically timed brake; but resisted. Kimi was always that forbidden allure. Academic protocol would just not let me step beyond our bounds. (As a disclaimer, these details should never crop up on my résumé!)
I moved across continents and solitude could not have been more palpable. That’s when I called Kimi to greet her on a Christmas in 2006, well, also to reconnect with someone who had once made me skip a few heartbeats. Over a few tri-monthly calls, I popped the question where angels feared to tread. Protocol, academic and/or societal, always limited full expression of the innermost longings. My phone bills though were a little more telling. An invitation to participate in a symposium at Kolkatta provided me much needed funds and all the legit excuses to make a trans-Pacific detour to Aizawl to meet Kimi for the first time, now no longer a student, as my partner. The phone calls intensified in frequency, length, and tenor.
One year down the line, we decided to make public our mutual commitment before friends and family through marriage. Though not as neatly contrived as a syllogism should be, the structure of these memories I gather seem to fit in neatly with Bush’s sill(y)ogism. Long term commitments are decisive moves that one grapples with and hopefully perseveres to see through. I, for one, am a decided-er!!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Colours of Fall
Fall falls late here! While leaves in most other parts of the country are snugly covered by layers of snow, the leaves here are still on branches half undecided—should I fall or just brave it through to spring?
Those that hang on burst out in resplendent fiery colors. Those that fall off cushion the ground as crackling covers waiting for the next grounds personnel to pick them up.
With this sudden fixation on the arboreal, the Christmas-New Year’s break provided me the motivation to explore the botanical gardens just across our walls. I was surprised at how oblivious I had been to a resource right at my doorstep.
This garden is particularly interesting as it houses endemic and indigenous flora, and preserves their associations with the indigenous Tongva Indians in the area. Unlike the palm lined boulevards on the silver screen, all contrivances of a rapidly impatient urbanizing drive, these gardens preserve glimpses of what SoCal might have been had it not been for the 49ers and their colonizing successors.
Those that hang on burst out in resplendent fiery colors. Those that fall off cushion the ground as crackling covers waiting for the next grounds personnel to pick them up.
With this sudden fixation on the arboreal, the Christmas-New Year’s break provided me the motivation to explore the botanical gardens just across our walls. I was surprised at how oblivious I had been to a resource right at my doorstep.
This garden is particularly interesting as it houses endemic and indigenous flora, and preserves their associations with the indigenous Tongva Indians in the area. Unlike the palm lined boulevards on the silver screen, all contrivances of a rapidly impatient urbanizing drive, these gardens preserve glimpses of what SoCal might have been had it not been for the 49ers and their colonizing successors.
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