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Respect Diversity

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Unity in diversity was one of the shittiest concepts that we were taught in school. It was compared to a garden filled with different varieties of plants and flowers; to a garland made up of certain beautiful, colourful flowers; to anything that symbolises we are one, we are together in this country. 
It was, however, just a piece of boring textbook lesson that have no meaning outside the classroom. And we learnt it the hard way, when we grew up, with a pride that we belong to the biggest democracy in the world. 
Seemingly, the world started dividing into two: the 'us' part and the 'them' part, making the idea of unity in diversity a hollow daydream. Nowadays, it has become too banal to criticise India and its garden of unity and diversity. Rather it is time, not to be overawed with a meaningless concept, but respect it. Respect diversity. There is no other way. 

‘Western Sankirtan’ at Cinema Paradiso

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This age demands us to go back to our roots for identity crisis has affected us severely, exposing us like we are a fish out of water; so compulsorily we got to go back there — this is clearly the message, but the messenger stumbled and forgot the substance in the movie Western Sankirtan
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Cast: Bonny, Gokul, Devita,
Abenao and others
Director: L Prakash
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The problem starts from the beginning of the movie because we are not clear about our origin as is evident in its story line. There is a confusion of meaning in Nat Sankirtan, a non-Manipuri term, which this movie is based on. The Manipuri excellence and originality in the various performing arts of the Nat Sankirtan are irrefutable, though in the movie, the journey back to our roots ends abruptly, at one juncture of our civilisation, when Hindu missionaries from Bangladesh and Bengal turned our history upside down, some three centuries ago. This sudd…

Of Reading the National Evening Newspapers

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All the national newspapers are eveningers in Manipur. It is next to impossible to check the national headlines of a paper in the morning, with the smell of its fresh prints, over a cup of cha-ngou or cha-ngang. You may be surprised but here’s the reason why the mysterious transformation of morning dailies into evening newspapers is not even a front-page news. 
It is interesting that the best dailies in the country are read only in the evening and no minister or militant is responsible for the exclusive delay. Of course, internet allows us to browse the latest news as soon as the papers’ websites are updated, but that’s another story.
The nearest mainstream newspapers’ offices, from Imphal, are located in Guwahati. Ten to fifteen years ago, almost all of them were located farther away in the then Calcutta. So after missing all the breaking news, the newspapers arrive here in a cosy flight, reach the distributors around 3–3:30PM and finally we get them around 5PM. That’s how the largel…

Amerikan Thinking, Manipuri Living

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I should have been born in the USA. I love every bloody Amerikan rock n' roll bands; I would lose myself in reading Ginsberg's poems, Thoreau's essays and watching CNN. Most of the time I do the thinking in Manipuri, my mother tongue; but sometimes, I also think like an Amerikan in broken English. My girlfriend is also in Amerika; perhaps, you know her. Sharon Stone. I should have been living in Amerika.

But I cannot help and was born in Manipur. Is it fair nobody has the chance to know where to get born in this big bad world? I don't think so, and unfortunately, I have been also living here. Naturally, it is not hard to admit I have a very critical attitude towards anything, everything here, especially in my hometown, Imphal. The fact that I was born here though I wanted to be born there, is definitely not the reason — for my critical attitude in my own submission, which could be sheer pessimism in other's opinion. I do have other reasons for my sickness with ye…

Flower Powerlessness

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I
Flowers the lovers
They talk about, with great love;
The guns replace them.

II
And flowers they care
But now we got opium,
Withered all the hopes.

III
In the land of gold
Guns and opium prevail;
— The faded flowers.



Mind Your Own Business

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I want to be free
I want to live where you and me are one
I want to inhale and exhale freedom
A place, a land which I can leave when I believe
The place, the land should be a burial ground
Of all the death that define our days
And I can go to another place, another land.

And mind your own business!

You don't have to tell me how I can live
Where I can live and which I can believe,
A thousand reasons might be convincing
But, this place, this land is obliterating
Life.

Mind your own business!
You gunmen, you government
You bloody people
You priest, you teacher
You doctor, you engineer
You useless folks
Mind your own business!

Your sense of beauty is the Langol rubbish dump
Your truth is the confession of a liar
Your morality is the used condoms in sleazy cafés
Your unity is in the streets of protest, nowhere else
Your religion is the belief of others' beliefs
Your business is crime; your crime, business
Mind your own bloody business!



Note The animation is sourced from http://www.ani…

Kekrupat Haiku

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Eighteen June eighteen
Departed souls they know not
You and me still fight
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Our land and their land
Blood marks the border and black
The lands have turned to
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The Hindus raped it
Now India has condoms
The national fuck
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I am a Meitei
But I can’t fuck a Naga
For I’m impotent
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On the streets we meet
For the homeland we resist
Why can’t we just live?
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The mirage leads us
The illusion steers us and
We proceed for peace
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United we are
In our mass fornication
Not anywhere else
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Lambi Thong Amasoong Atei Wathising

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Poong tarook yachangakpa ngekk famtharui
Bus khongsandoure nongpoklom’ yumgi maikeirom’
Karibu leirigaba yumda
Leiri eigi thawai yumda
Penna phaorakkhiba mikuptuda
Thougatlakkhi tapna bus-tuna chinglambiromda
Amuk tapna thoudarakkhi bus-tuna tampaklomda
Kakhat-kumtha, thougat thoudha
Numidang adugi lambini eigi panthoongphamgi |

Poong taramathoi Jakhalabandha
Chapham thakpham ngeihak pothapham
Emana pokpadagi aduk theena haotaba tan charaktri
Imangda phamliba eigi emana sakkhini
Nakandana famli edomcha
Makhoi anina bus mayaiwaida famduna lakkhibani eina cabinda |

Nongyai yamna sooktaba umang manung amada
Paaklaba ching-gi lamgi paaklaba lambi masaangduda
Lunna-lunna khotiposs kaya yoonghouwee
Samu yekpa, samugandha yekpa, sha-uchek yekpa
Ayakpa-awaoba komla machugi tha mahaksu ngaiduna leirambada
Wahang kaya chongthorakkhi
Khongchat amasoong panthoongphamgi
Paokhum ama fangdringei tha madi keku-lotpi saana’ hourakkhi
Maana amuk haitharaga yengak, eina amuk haitharaga yeng
Bus adug…

Our Tomorrow Is So Many Days Old

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Our tomorrow is so many days old
My old man is drowned in nostalgia
And swimming I'm for
The never-arriving tommorow
This is how we hope to halt the water
Holding back the sun
Our tommorow is so many days old
We want a new tomorrow, tomorrow.
And we are drunk
As much as he is drowning
His helplessness is how he wants to disturb the water;
As much as I'm swimming with and for all my self-interest.
This is how we are
When we are in the water
When we are drunk
As we hide our tears from each other
Our tommorow is so many days old.









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