The Scooty-ing experience......

Last year, I went home (Mizoram) during winter break. There, I noticed every girl in the locality was driving a scooter. All my friends were having it, and I instantly wanted one, though I knew I could barely ride it. I became so obsessed, especially with my friend’s bright orange scooty pept with flowers on the side, that I eventually started to live, breathe, eat, dream and talk scooters. My mom said there would be no point buying it now since I would be heading back within few days to Mumbai. I was a bit disappointed but I agreed she was right. But that did not stop me from achieving my “scooter” dream. I packed my bags and board a bus  to my uncle’s place in Kolasib since he owns one (a bright red hero honda activa) and also  the roads being less congested there, I thought I could ride all I want.

After several briefings from my uncle, I could ride the scooter on my own. First, I was a bit scared. But after many rounds from Project Veng to Diakkawn, I became fairly confident. And then I rode faster….. and faster… and faster. I almost felt like I was the best scoot-er-er in the world. It’s so easier than what it looked like, I thought….

I teetered up and down the road around 8:00 at night, there were only few other vehicles. I was too fast I guess, all of a sudden I lost control over the handle. I remember panicking for  a split second, and then I go ‘BOOOOOM!! CRASHHH!!’What happened next I really don't remember. All I know was that it would make me dread scooters for the rest of my life.

I considered myself very lucky that night. Though I fell pretty harshly with deep abrasions on my hand and knee, it wasn’t so dramatic. And at the very first moment I gained conscience after I fell, I decided that scooters are deadly-dangerous creatures and should be avoided at any cost. Thus, my dream of riding a scooter wearing a polka dot knitted cotton dress and wearing matching helmets and matching nail-paints was crushed to the ground. I was convinced that I would never touch or be near any scooter-stuff ever again, because if I did, it would eventually kill me. Just the thought of sitting on it still gave me chills back my spine. I hated scooters.

A few days later, my mom said she had a very special surprise gift for me. "No special occasion, just for being a good daughter", she said. She asserted that I would love the gift so much that I might never wanna leave home again. My brother told me that I would love the gift and it was exactly what I wanted, so, I thought may be it's a Blackberry phone, since I have mentioned it once or twice that I needed a new phone. I've  wanted a Blackberry for sooo... long!! I was excited...I even googled the Taylor Swift theme Blackberry skin cover in some fancy hot pink or purple colour....

 But imagine the horror........when I found out the gift was this!!!!!........


                                        
  A FRIGGIN' SCOOTERRRR !!!!!!!!!!!

With the 16 year old brother who doesn't want his face to be seen in public, and still not old enough to have a driving license...:)))

I feel like I was being punished for what I did in another life :)))))

Life lessons from sunday schools...

From kindergarten to 12^th grade of schooling, my teachers would teach me just about everything there is to know, from ABC’s to algebra, Theory of Evolution to Newton’s Law and all kinds of facts and figures, so that I would one day grow up to be a tactful, nice and fine lady. Back then, little did I know that the most valuable lessons in life and the things that pulled me through series of the most unfortunate events of my life were the things that I learned in sunday schools. The songs that were sung, the scriptures that were memorised and the lessons that were taught are now the things that keep my life undefiled and intact, a source of infinite wisdom leading me to a just path.

My family belonged to the Mission Veng Presbyterian Church, and during my entire childhood, it was a very strict rule at home that on sundays we should attend sunday schools and afternoon services, and should not miss it unless we were like severely ill (y’know my grandmother). So, I always attended church on sundays, right from beginner’s department when I was a little girl to senior department in my early teens. I can still recall the first time I gave my sunday school exam when I was 4 years old.The teacher asked me who Samuel’s father was (a story from the Bible),  I promptly replied,”Apu Manga”, which was the name of my cousin Samuel’s dad. That teacher still makes fun of me even today :)

There are many fond memories of my sunday school days which I can recall, like the time when I had a  crush on the boy who use to sit just opposite when I was in senior department, who is now, of course happily married with a beautiful baby boy. Anyways, I never hesitated to attend Sunday schools. In fact, I thought it was a good way to spend your school-off day and I even get to meet my friends and the best part was that you don’t get homeworks and beatings from your sunday school teachers unlike the teachers in school. I also enjoyed listening to stories from the Bible and of course the singing. I never knew though, that it would have such an immeasurable  and profound impact in my life.

As life goes on and I grew older, life wasn't always kind and every now and then circumstances dictate what direction I had to follow - not always in line with my personal choice. Just when I thought I got the hang of how it all works, I messed up.  And the time came when I had to decide for myself what kind of a Christian I would like to be. It was at such times that I realised the gist of the Bible scriptures which I had absent-mindedly retained from childhood. And these have been saving me ever since, guiding my footsteps, delivering me from toil and strife.


When life gets tough and things get tumultuous and out of hand, I'd turn to a scripture which I long knew like the back of my hand and lived my life upon, which I had memorised in sunday school :-

When I am struggling with temptations, I am reminded of a Bible verse which was our “naupang inkhawm changvawn”, each word reverberating within me and then  preclude me from wrong and put things in perspective. ( Since I don’t know this in English I’ll write it in Mizo and sorry I can’t remember the exact chapter and verse) :-

“ Nunna hmangaih duh leh ni tha te hmuh duh chuan

 Sual lakah a lei veng tha sela

 A hmui pawh ngamthlemna thu sawi  lo turin veng tha rawh se

 Sual kalsan in thil tha ti rawh se

 Remna zawngin um zel rawh se

 Lalpa mit chu mifelte chungah a fu a,

 A beng pawh an tawngtaina lamah a  chhi si thin a…..”

When I grieve the lost of a loved one or when someone dear would leave me, I thought about the story of Job and Abraham which was taught in sunday school. They lose everything they hold dear but still did not complain or curse God and  remained faithful despite their extremely difficult situation.

When I am disappointed by a family member or a close friend or disheartened by anyone, I thought of 1 Corinthians 13:4  that makes me choose not to retaliate but to love them unconditionally instead :-

I can never forget what Pu Hual-a (our church elder) once said during a campaign for children in my church. He said there are just four words that will guide you in your journey with Christ. Whenever you face any situation, just ask yourself “What would Jesus do?” (WWJD)  if He were in your position. This has been a powerful and life-changing  slogan (?) for thousands of people including me.

Finally, I’d like to add, my life is an embodiment of gratitude right now, and there are so many little things which I am grateful for, I could write an endless list (which I’m planning to make it my next blog post) but since you must be having a hard time finishing this ridiculously long post, I’d make it short.  I’m grateful that I am a Christian. I’m grateful for being a part of the Mission Veng Presbyterian Church and I’m grateful to all my sunday school teachers who had enriched my life in ways they can never imagine. May God bless the church abundantly!

She's still looking out for me....

When I was little, I prayed every night that  my grandmother would live a hundred years. In fact, I prayed that my whole family would live a very long life, but my grandmother’s name would always come first. Tears would well up in my eyes everytime other members of my family or anyone complained about my grandmother being slow and dropping and breaking things.

As long as I can remember, my grandma had always been looking out for me. She would drop me off to school and sit and wait for me until school was over. In my school and even in church she was more popularly known as “Alvina-i Pi”, because we were always seen together. Every morning, she woke up at 5:00 to attend the morning prayer service. The church was her life, and she would read and tell me stories from the Bible every night before sleeping. I loved her so dearly and my heart would sink at the thought of her dying.

It was the morning of 3^rd April 2006 (the year of my sweet 16^th birthday), my grandma passed away. It all happened so fast  I couldn’t even cry .The moment she breathed her last, I ran up to my room because I was embarrassed to cry in front of so many people. I silently prayed “God, I thank you for the 83 years…but it’s just not enough…”

Two years back, four years since my grandma  died, I was in Mumbai doing my grad. I was so pre-occupied with my life there, my friends, college and everything that  I  haven’t  thought of my grandmother in a very long time. One fine day, it so happened that my laptop was stolen in the hostel, and I was too scared to tell my parents. I used my entire life savings for a new one as a result of which I became poverty-stricken and flat broke. I did not want to tell my parents and ask for help. I was so worried and the fact of not getting a new dress for my college farewell party was morose. Then one night, I had this  really strange dream.I saw my grandmother.I could not see her face nor recall what she was wearing.It was all blurred, like a silhoutte. But her voice was so clear it almost seemed real .She said ,”Bawihte, engtikah nge I pa hian pawisa a rawn thawn dawn che a?”

The next morning when I woke up, I was still broke. I knew I would still be the only one not wearing a new dress for the farewell party, but I had this sudden surge of bliss and beatitude, because now  I know my grandmother was still looking out for me, and she was there to help me get through this. I guess she’s in Heaven now, perhaps hanging out with Jesus or having coffee with Abraham and Peter. I can only imagine the smile on her face. So for now, I know I need not worry about anything at all because I somehow believe she’s still praying for me. So, I know I am always in safe hands.I thank God for reminding me time and again of how much I am loved.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there, I did not die

I am the thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glint on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush,

I am the swift, uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there, I do not sleep.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there, I did not die! I am the song that will never end.

I am the love of family and friend.

I am the child who has come to rest

In the arms of the Father who knows me best.