As I entered the kitchen a voice in rough Bihari accent interrupted me “Hai rukh waaaha pe kya likha he toomko nahin dekha hai kya”. Pointing towards the tiny board which reads “NO ADMISSION” hung above the threshold of the door he continued in a sing song voice, “Para likha to haina malom hona chahiye”.

It was a reminiscence of me that took place way back in 1992 in November at Manipur Bhawan Sardar Patel Marg, New Delhi. I was than on my way to Seoul, South Korea to equip with the advance technique of Taekwondo. I needed to halt at Delhi to have an appointment with the Ambassador of South Korea and also to obtain my visa. A trip to South Korea to learn Taekwondo by any standard regarded as that of privileged section among our Taekwondo circle during those days akin to the religious muslim prophet who paid a visit to Mecca, the sacred shrine of Muslim and became an inevitable one, a defacto “above other attitude” among his colleagues. So also like the conservative Hindu who went to Banarasi and claimed to be the purest soul on the earth. My faith in Taekwondo and to land my feet on the Korean soil was so imperative and exactly the same feeling with those religious fanatic though I was not in the religious line.

The rude and unkind remark was passed to me by none other than the kitchen manger in Manipur Bhawan, a coloured black chap with a pair of large eye ball. I tried to make my way to the kitchen in order to get a glass of water. The kitchen had a free passage to everyone except for me reason obviously being that I had a tough and hot bout of argument with the first desk receptionist the other day when I asked for a bed in Manipur Bhawan. Since then I was not an honoured guest but treated somewhat like an intruder. That is why they didn’t want my face around.

The manager was rough and stubborn one. I did expect at least some courtesy in his tone. “Saala toomko aeysa bolna nahi chahiye” I replied in my imperfect Hindi but in a sharp Manipuri accent that I considered was a befitting reply to him. In an unexpected move a sweeper who was busy cleaning the floor behind assaulted me with his leverage, a medium size bamboo pole that was meant for cleaning the floor. Thanks to the god that fortunately I could have defended the deathly attack though it slightly touched my head. Saala junglee, maather***** toomko bolnekaa aadat sikna chahiye” the sweeper thundered. I was stunned and shock for I was engaging into a hot exchange with the kitchen manager and the sweeper who had no business in it assaulted me with a deadly weapon from behind. It was so unexpected and occurred to me the proverbial ‘bolt from the blue’. Later I came to know that they are always in group in such situation.

Some people who happened to be around caught hold of me so as to avert from further confrontation. I sat in a chair nearby like the helpless boy who was caught red handed while committing a crime. I could not help pondering how the sweeper and a kitchen manager who were meant to serve the Manipuri guest ever had the nerve to attack a Manipuri that is also in the premises of Manipur Bhawan………remained a riddle till today.

The heart -throb inside became faster and it threatened me almost to explode within. Than a gentle voice came straight to my ears, “You are assaulted for no fault of yours, you are a pure Manipuri blood worth to your salt, Are not you. Teach these people an unforgettable lesson worth remember throughout their life”. In a commanding tone he continued, “You are also a Taekwondo Black belt I heard”.

He was a middle aged Kuki gentleman, an officer in Doordashan Kendra, Imphal, and in due course of time he rose to the post of Station Director that I realised later. His words acted upon me as mantra thus got a shot at the arm. Even if the Kuki gentleman was not around, the situation demanded a showdown, a physical combat that at least to showcase what Manipuri exactly acts during such awkward situation.

My first act was to strip my shocks and put off the warm Angami shawl that hung heavy over me. The kitchen staffs were never expected I would return after a break. In a flimsy style I caught the one who assaulted me with a tight grip and my right punch straight landed on his face followed by few successive punches more. This continued till he collapsed. All the kitchen staffs came running towards me with attacking attitude but few abrupt side kicks and front kicks meant to defend myself found automatically its target on their ribs, face and chest etc. I was almost out of control as a result of that I threw all the available utensils in the kitchen and broke some furniture too that I realised later was a blunder mistake.

The dinning room had accumulated a good crowd than. That was when the DRC of the Bhawan who apparently a non-manipuri appeared in the scene. An angry scowl was visible on his face when he saw some of the profusely bled staff of the Bhawan. His first action was to summon the guards than commanded them to deliver a proper treatment to me. I reacted not to dare to touch me. My boldness could send an impact on them that they took aback to my command thinking that I might be having an illustrious family background or that of a scion of a powerful minister in Manipur that they miserably mistook. Anyway it saved my day otherwise there was no way escape from dreaded booth and lathi charges.

The angry commissioner threatened me, “How dare you injure my staff. I will shoot you. Get out from the Bhawan, you rascal”. “Sir” I said, “You are a responsible police officer how you will shoot someone without a proper trial? But in this particular case they have assaulted me first and what ever followed was merely an act of self defense on my part”. “Shut up, you have no right to take up laws in your own hands. You should at first inform me. Now I will have to book you”. I mustard my courage and the situation asked for an eye ball to eyeball debate less I would be landed in a messy lock up. ‘Sir’ I said in a soft but in a fiart rm tone “We meiteis are notorious for our wild nature. I was supposed to assault them first as any Manipuri practices. But quiet contrast to that I was attacked by your staff that god saved me out of sheer luck. Are not they supposed to serve us, to look after us? If you are stick on to punish some one than it is not me but it is your own staff”. I continued “I am a martial artist, master over the art of self defense so I could have defended the deathly attack”. I continued in a bemusing tone, “Had it been occurred to a lay man who doesn’t have any idea of martial arts, the strike was sufficient enough to knock him down. By now he would have been fallen flat in a pool of blood. I wonder how the DRC would promptly react at such situation.” I could sense that gradually I gained momentum. DRC was not the one easily to be retreated. He leveled me as rude, uncivilized nuts and insulted me to behave well for the Bhawan was meant for many high dignitaries. According to him Bhawan was not a place I should supposedly belong to. “Sir Manipur house is not your bungalow and I have every right in it being a Manipuri. I hope none ever have a proprietary right over this house other than the government of Manipur and the government is formed by the people of the Manipur”.

By than the Dinning hall was packed with a cluster of crowd with many ministers of Manipur including our former Chief Minister R.K. Dorendra and late Moirang Koireng pouring in one after another .They were camping in New Delhi obviously to form a new government.

It is still vivid in my mind that late Moirang Koireng openly scolded me for being argued with the DRC saying that, “Boy you better keep quiet. Do you know the person you are arguing with? He is not a mere person but the DRC of this Bhawan?” He spoke as if I didn’t aware of the DRC. “He is too big an officer to be trifled with”. He cautioned me. I sharply reacted to that. Sometimes our ministers and bureaucrats act out of bound of the protocol.

Taking the opportunity I could have spoken out my heart about the bitter experiences often faced in Manipur Bhawan by certain groups and individuals. On many occasions rooms are being denied on purpose despite there are vacancies. However wealthy few could easily access through. That Bhawan have merely become a den for the prosperous ones who can afford in the stars hotel while the needy and poor ones are always thrown out the road. And Delhi is a foreign land for many of the Manipuris who seldom goes outside of Manipur.

Some Ministers and MLAS who, I missed badly when I seek for an appointment in Manipur were just listening to what I spoke as if they have something to learn from me. The ego inside me abetted me, “Go ahead, Speak up”. In continuation I lamented the poor service of the waiters and highhandedness in their act. On many cases inmates of the Bhawan are being deprived from a decent square meal. Meat and fishes are served to the imamates only when the VIPs in the upstairs ate in full till the whole service is over none of the inmates have right over a plate of fish curry.

The smelly toilet which remained unattended for too long was few instances I pointed out. That I suggested the respected DRC also sometimes have a round check on what is happening around and find out the malpractices of the employees which was being carried out without his knowledge. I also queried in surprise how the staff and DRC himself deals with the manipuris hailing from far obscure corner of Manipur who neither speak English nor Hindi when the whole staff failed to communicate with those who can speak and communicate. The DRC seemed to have a listening nerve ultimately.

The hot debate to vie for justice died out slowly. A seemingly intelligent DRC suddenly turned around and spoke to the Kuki gentleman who had been witnessing the whole episode from the beginning, asking his comment. The Kuki gentleman narrated that whole episode how it all begun and till the end. As per his verdict I was in no way wrong and portrayed as a hero of the accident.

The DRC was in one way not that partial in his decision as I mistook. He sprang up from his position, went over to the kitchen like a smart army and planted some powerful slaps on the face of those who try to assault me that sent them reeling off the Bhawan to the street. He announced to the crowd that the kitchen employees have been terminated from their services. As the angry employees walked off the Bhawan their eyes signaled me something,” come we wait you outside”.

By the time I was about to leave the Bhawan the DRC has sent for me. I stood before him in his well furnished office room. “How old are you” was the first question DRC asked me. I told him my age. “Perhaps you are the age of my youngest son”. He overpowered me with an emotional attack and continued, “Where are you going? This Bhawan is yours. Stay here as long as you like.” As the air-conditioner in the room cooled my flesh and raw temper, I became cool and felt guilty of what I spoke to an elderly officer who was perhaps the age of my father and accordingly I requested him not to be offended. I also requested him to let the kitchen staffs continue their services as usual that he acceded to. The DRC who turned a ‘blessing in disguise’ allowed me using one of his vehicles to go to Korean embassy. I obtained my visa without any problem.

Evening brought many changes to the Bhawan. The house has slightly improved in its look. The waiters seemed to have been more punctual. Toilets have been improved with a bathroom shop which was just peeled off from its brand new cover in a readymade style and placed in the small cabinet meant for it. The floor became cleaner and no more sweepers with attacking attitude were seen. Dinners were being served decently even before the VIPs service. I overheard someone cracked a joke to his friend in the dinning hall, “Bhawan is now a good place to stay in’’.

Delhi, being not that favourable place for me, I have decided to catch my flight for South Korea from Calcutta (Kolkata). I left Bhawan without any ill feeling the next day.

When I sit before my computer and my fingers start typing on the keyboard, I was uncertain whether my anecdote would be of worth narrating or have any relevance to the society. The ‘violent fighting job’ that I picked up with the staff in Bhawan is memorable indeed to me but would it be of interest to anyone else. I did nothing of that heroic deed besides having a physical combat with some arrogant staffs in Manipur Bhawan. But I do convinced that my story has something to tell to the general public.

I have not been to Manipur Bhawan, Delhi many years now. Now there are two Bhawans in Delhi one in Sardar Patel marg meant for the VIPs and other in Chanyakyapuri at Bir Tikendrajeet Marg for the general public. Once I got an opportunity to spend a brief sojourn in Manipur Bhawan, Delhi on the recommendation of honorable MLA Bijoy Koijam. I really enjoyed it. I tried again on my next trip on the recommendation of our honorable MP but a soft voice on the other side of the telephone said, “Sir roomto sab full hogaya”. Little did our sober MP understand that the fat lady receptionist did manage a room in the Bhawan for one of her relatives on that same day though it was full for other clients?

Why it is Manipur Bhawan all the times? Why doesn’t one try some hotels in the Phar Ganj area? The hotels in that area are considerably cheap and nearer to the city? If I have to answer than In Bhawan there exists a ‘sense of belonging’ that money can’t buy.

The people of Manipur definitely must have understood the hundred of thousand travelers that passes through Kolkata and Delhi everyday and the inconveniences of the staff to accommodate them all in the Bhawan. But does that mean that they will not be entertained? Would not they get even a glass of water or a cup of tea on payment? Courtesy is what that matters most. I had been to many parts of the country as a sportsman and as a coach both, led many Nagaland sports contingents when I was the chief coach of Nagaland state. I happened to be land in Nagaland house many times with a full team mostly in unearthly hours of the night where there was not a single room vacant. How I would forget the hospitality shown by the staff of the Nagaland house to the Naga sportsmen. They woke up late in the night cooked for the players and organized their sleep in the common rooms and VIP suites that might perhaps contradicted the rules. But sometimes good books also say that necessity has no laws. I always pray that the same philosophy be grasped by our authorities in the Manipur Bhawan too. It is long time since I have knocked on the door of the Manipur Bhawan for rooms. I have never attempted for rooms in the Bhawan nowadays. I always preferred to be in a hotel somewhere else. So in this long gap of time I hope things could have been tremendously developed in the functioning of the Bhawans that I am not fit to comment. I only wish that time changed for the better too. My whole story goes back to the 90s and it is simply a flash back of the past that I tried to make it a small readable story despite my certain handicaps.

When my mind traveled back to the memory lane that related to Manipur Bhawan I would never but forget late Mr. Munan the orchestral exponent who, throughout his life had not been gifted sight by the God. I have heard his skill many times over the All India Radio programs. He came to Delhi to get his eye operated by the same time I was in Delhi. He was a silent observer throughout my acts in the dinning hall.

Soon after the fighting act was over, he came towards me and hugged me like a small boy. He was almost broken down out of emotion and said, “If only I could see you with my naked eyes how nice it would have been, but god has not been gracious enough on me”. And he continued, “You did your job, you are brave. I love you. These people in the Bhawan must have been taught a good lesson long before, our politicians are good for nothing fellows”. Obviously he had passed through an ordeal during his days in Bhawan for that he might have a complaint to lodge too. Otherwise a harmless artist like him would never have been encouraged me when I knocked down some one in a violent manner.

If a man be gracious, and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the World. – Francis Bacon