An Ode to the Naga in me

 There are times when life suddenly turns around on our face to show the point where it all began. I am at that spot now. As a child, I have seen people strive at all ends- for food, water, shelter and Life at large. Hence the word "struggle" never existed for me. "Struggle"was normal. But today, when I have seen and experienced life, "Struggle" is indeed a very meaningful word. While it still means life at large, it means experiences that has made me wise. I feel at ease with what I am and what I want to be.

What shaped my world views is my place of birth and what it had to offer. I, along with my three siblings grew up in one of the most troubled insurgency infested place, Kohima, more so at a time, when it was at its peak. I remember walking to my school with a battery of army black cat personnel armed with a rifle gun standing at every meter all through my way. They would frequently come home late at nights for surprise checks to see if we had hidden arms and ammunitions in our home. A futile exercise everytime!! My uncle just got saved from a bullet by a whisker, while an insurgent mean to kill higher government officials like him and my father would be away from home touring remote areas of Nagaland for his auditing work for months together. And this is just what I recall now, this minute!

Now, as much gory as it sounds, we perhaps never felt that way. For us Kohima was our home and all our friends and family were there.

Today, I realise how deep that thought was of our parents, where they never showed any fear to us, or restricted us from living our free lives and having whomever we wanted as friends, Nagas or others. It was human relations that surpassed any relationship, or inhibitions. We lived a childhood, where our friends and our parent's friends were our closest family. While it may sound like a contradiction, our friends were mostly our Naga neighbours who protected us dearly and kept our human spirits alive. Times must have been tough for our elders, but as kids, we couldn't have asked for a better childhood.

Kohima is that raw idyllic hill station that we often flock as tourists from the plain areas. Mountains everywhere, dense forests, long rainy season, and flock of dense clouds covering us as mist every now and then. Even as I write, I am at a loss of words to describe how beautiful the place was. And we felt, it was an everyday affair to live that life. Those once in a year trip down the plains was our moment of extreme joy. We longed of life in the plains where we would have a Goldspot, or an Icecream anytime, where, we could sit in a taxi and travel around, trains journeys were our moments of pride and story items when back at home. However, we always knew, our home was in Kohima. Thats where we had to go back to.

When we had to leave Nagaland for good, our real "struggle" began. The language we spoke, thoughts we bore in mind, the people we knew and our friends since childhood- all made us feel alien to the world outside. I was asked strange questions like, what was the time zone in Nagaland, do they eat dog's vomit, is it all jungle out there, are they head-hunters, how dangerous are they...and such other inquisitive queries. While I would get angry initially with the thought that, why don't they know about us while we are as much an Indian as they are. 

Eventually, I made peace with this disparity, as I understood, the problem was much deeper. It was our education system, that always excluded North-East India from its syllabus. What was needed was a more inclusive education system, with the motive of nation-building. As much as we deserve to know about the great battles of Panipat, we should also know about the World War II, that was fought in Kohima and rest of north-east. As much as we read about the Mughal and the Marathas, we deserved to also know about the Ahom dynasty and the Kindgdoms in Manipur. Having said that, it gives me immense pleasure that we have come a long way today. Sitting in Gurgaon, my daughter's social science book has a chapter on Nagaland. Moreover, we had become more inward looking today than we used to be 20 years back. 

My journey from Kohima to Kolkata, then Calcutta, and from Pune to Delhi to Bangalore and now in Gurgaon is one that nudged me persistently to evolve my world views. I do not see much of a difference in what I knew or felt about human relations as a child and as I feel today. This is perhaps because, the place I grew up in and the people amidst whom I developed my sensibilities as a child, were much ahead of its times. The human to human connect over and above any relationship with a nomenclature and living everyday and moment as if it is my last, are two guiding principles seeped deep within my existence. However, life in the "plains" as we referred to places down the mountains, is simply different.

The persistent "struggle" to survive, to be liked and loved, to be accepted without inhibitions, and to be what I am is the real struggle. But the sensibilities instilled in me as a child perhaps is what drives me to face it all bravely and turn tides in my favour. While I took everything for granted back then, today as I stand facing and recalling those times, I shower my heartfelt gratitude to that city and to each person, who made me as strong as I am to face the real struggles of life.

 This account of my life is an ode to the Nagas, a great civilisation within themselves, that the rest of the world must know! While most images of my Kohima are deeply imprinted in my memory, here's a couple of them that I could digitise.