Over the years - Old and new

By Lunminthang Haokip *

3-Ending Years of The Past: I don't know why but 3-ending years had always been particularly eventful for me. Born and brought up in a no-frill interior village, Y. Thingkangphai in Chandel district, Manipur towards the close of the nostalgic 1950s to poor parentage, there was no way I could ask for good educational grounding in Public Schools. To my dad, Late Ngamjathang Haokip, a Baptist Pastor of his time, the only option to get me, his eldest son, schooled was to send me to Republic India's Village LP and ME Schools. At 6, I began to attend class in 1963. The smell of fresh primary text books inspired me to mug the lines whole and jump classes.

Matriculated In 1973: After two years of academic struggle in Class VII and VIII in Adimjati High School, Imphal, my dad, assisted by a Catholic brother Holngam Mate, got me admitted in Class IX in Donbosco High School boarding, Imphal. But, soon my teachers detected the deficiencies of a country-bred mediocre student that I was and demoted me to Class VIII. I didn't mind one bit because I knew catching up with Standard IX level of learning there would be like planting an oak tree inside a flower pot and expecting it to thrive.

Terribly shy and complicatedly rebellious, when my dad, out of affection, paid periodical visits to me when classes were on, I wished the earth devoured me. Now when I recollect my days in Donbosco, I feel sad that I failed to get encouraged by my dear dad's extra-attention. By God's grace, I missed 1st Division by 2 marks in Class X Board exam in 1973.

Wild Days Between 1973 And 1975: The juvenile years between 1973 and 1975 saw me transform from a brooding bookish teen-ager to a philandering foot-loose and fancy-free youth-with-no-mission. My P.U 1st and 2nd year stint at St. Edmunds, Shillong, was arranged on behalf of my family's bread and jam. Hard-hit by the drought of 1973, my dad paid my College fees through his nose.

But all alone there in the "abode of clouds", I was sailing on "cloud nine" nosing around for fun like ring-fishing in Fetes, imaginary dating, going musical in jam-sessions, hiking trips to Barapani and watching movies. My usurped and fake lifestyle compelled me to send inflated bills for 'text books' back at home. My dad knew better; and when actual text books were sent to me instead of money, I threatened to quit college. Scoring high in the 1st year, I soft-pedalled studies in the second, scored lower and in the third year of my Shillong stay, I dishonoured my 1st year Economics Honours course and went back home with learning-deficit.

Barely Graduated in 1977: A St. Edmunds-reject, I injected myself with a renewed "will-to-get-graduated" by hook, or by crook. My other love was football. So in between locally-funded small-town and village-level soccer tourneys where I scored some of my best goals, I read my text books in the shade of moments. Much though I was regularly irregular in attending class-room teaching in Maharaja Budhachandra college, Imphal, my Lord, somehow, reminded me in my sub-consciousness that I was slated to scale higher in studies.

Class lectures flew over my head; yet, the flair to push pen fast and the God-gifted fertile mind that I possessed undeservedly, coupled with the sportsman spirit to win, helped me come out barely triumphant in B.A Pass course in 1977. It was a feat for a good-for-nothing freak like me. And of course, in the graduation score, there were no 'off-side' and 'foul-play'. I was hooked and charged to qualify for higher courses, and there was no "crook-play".

Lured By The Queen's Tongue: Fresh from college equipped with an ambition higher than the University walls, I got selected, in 1977, for a Master's Degree course in English Literature in JNU, Imphal Branch. Civil Service, honestly, was not in my mind. It was a later day option. All that I desired with a killing-instinct was to better my writing skill. There was a dream (my family couldn't afford) to get myself enrolled in JNU, Delhi or D.U. I think I was destined to be home-grown fellow.

I learned English Literature under two eminent Professors at Canchipur – Prof Taranya and Prof. Prasad. No regrets. They were lesser to none. But later, when I wanted to sit for Civil Service exams, I regretted that I didn't go for Pol Science or History. Meeting my waterloo several times in the Prelim exams, I was recruited as SDC as a consolation prize in 1981. Something in me hinted that SDC should become "Self-denying Crusader" some day, for me.

Got Married Young In 1983: I wasn't converted then. I knew nothing about seeking God's will in choosing a partner for life. So, I went by mundane basics. I did not want to go for a high-brow academician of high status who would raise a forest of eyebrow when she came to know details of my humble beginning and low family status. My preference was for one who could switch on and switch off at will to the swing of my pendulum moods and twin rural-urban attachments.

I thank God who knew my naivete and gifted me a partner, Nengkim Touthang-turned-Haokip, who suited my surroundings to a T. The low-profile wedding took place at my backblock village, L. Thinglhangphai near Sugnu. Poor though I was, the joy of being anchored to couple-hood made me endorse the saying, "There is no such a thing as a poor wedding or a rich funeral". The only half-grudge I nurse, at times, in the partnership long-drive is that my temperamental (80 pc temper and 20 pc mental) pick-up is fast as that of a "petrol engine" whereas that of my better-half is closer to a "diesel engine" in winter.

Then Came Fearful 1993: I was a Johny-come-lately in Manipur Civil Service. Directly recruited into MCS of 1991 batch, there was hardly any colleague who matched my age. Posted as CEO/SHADC, Kangpokpi in 1993, communal bloodshed in the year disturbed me no end. Worse, I was wallowing in the shallow waters of spiritual doldrums. My burdened wife packed my bedding and sent me to join Bible camp after Bible camp with a living hope that I may turn a new leaf.

Old leaves gave way to new, seasons changed from winter to spring; but I didn't. In 1993, hopelessly confused with my desperate life, I attended a Church meeting conducted by LEF, Laymen's Evangelical Fellowship at Langol, Imphal. International TV and itinerary Preacher, Dr. Joshua Daniel was speaking bold and fearless from the pulpit. Something struck a chord with me in the course of the message.

The spiritual spark that was ignited in the Gospel meeting led to my conversion in 1994. Then, I came to realise what John Wesley meant when he said, "My heart is strangely warmed". Transfers and shifting base were common in my career. But the experience of "knowing that my sins were forgiven through faith in and acceptance of Lord Jesus as my personal Saviour" was a thing of eternal value I would never swap places for, with anybody.

The Accident of 2003: God answered many of my prayers. My children were blessed in their own modest way. One evening, in 2003, I rode my way from Langol Church-service on a bicycle while my family took a passenger-Langol-jeep ride back to home. My excessive concern for my children made me worried about their whereabouts at dusk-time. Cycling back from Governor's gate, I circled the by-lane near 69 M/Brigade office enroute to Imphal Talkies. I could not locate them. So, I returned home in sad mood. (to be contd)

The dusk-time greyish atmosphere failed me to see the horizontal barbed wire spread across the by-lane then (now removed). I had a vertical 4 inch cut on my head. Blood oozed out but my Lord saw to it that I didn't fall flat. Drenched in blood, I could still thank God that I was short as I was and am. If created taller, the sharp spiked wire would have hit my eye badly and I could have ended up as a "one-eyed Jack". Riding up to the then District Hospital on B.T road, I got a four-stitch first-aid treatment.

The Wake-Up Call: Crestfallen, I took a one week leave from duty to introspect and recuperate. Thanking God for sparing me from a could-have-been-more-fatal accident, at times, I vacillated to give room for self-pity. Why Lord, I reasoned, my detractors mocked my travel on bi-cycle. There was no other means for me to go to church except this poor man's Volkswagen, as my one-time class-fellow, Yambem Laba, named it. Full of self-righteousness for the chicken-feed sacrifices I made for my Lord, I wasn't far from the Job-syndrome in his cynical times. But taught to refer the Word of God in every critical situation, I prayed and opened my Bible.

My Lord spoke to me loud and clear from Hebrews 12:4, "Ye have not resisted unto blood, striving against sin". The impact and relevance of the verse to my context led me to humble myself to seek further forgiveness for my sins. The Spirit also reminded me that my dad suffered fire-wood stick attack in early 1960s while attempting to evangelise a neighbouring village. He was left in a pool of blood. Sugnu Hospital Doctors, then, gave up hope on him. But God made him survive the ill-motivated torture for many more decades.

Pricking Doubts of 2012: As I wrote earlier, 3-ending years were special to me. Frustrated in Civil services Prelims 7 times, I comforted myself in 1994, when I received salvation from heaven, that God gave me a better IAS – I Am Saved, never believing in my most audacious dream that I would get administrative IAS conferred upon me. For one thing, by 2013, I would have crossed the age bar; and for another, vacancies were at a premium.

Yet, my doubts were dispelled by the great promise given to Sarah in Genesis 18:14 which was also shown to me, "Is anything too hard for the Lord? At the time appointed I will return unto thee, according to the time of life, and Sarah shall have a son". One thing led to another. The God "Who ruleth over the affairs of men (Daniel 5:22)" called the shots to make things happen in such a way that a helpless and hopeless man like me was given a reserved-berth in the promotion list. Let the glory be His.

The Rewards Came In 2013: 14 MCS officers were inducted in 2012 into IAS-by-promotion. I was placed in the 13th position. Induction Training Course in LBSNAA, Mussoorie could take only 6 trainees from a State at a time. My turn came in 2013 February after two batches from 2012 list finished. I thank my State Government and DoPT Delhi for the enriching training in LBSNAA and the Foreign Exposure trip to Sri Lanka in March, 2013.

From bicycle rides from my village to Serou and Sugnu in my salad days to the luxury Coach ride from Colombo to Kandy in Sri Lanka; and from an angry-young-man who scored goals in B-grade soccer matches in mushy Sugnu High school playground in the late 1970s to a hungry-to-learn mid-age man who scored an overall grading of "A" in the polished board-rooms of LBSNAA, Mussoorie in 113 ITP (Induction Training Programme) for IAS Officers, my life came full circle. Who made the achievements possible? None else, but "It is He that sitteth upon the circle of the earth.....(Isaiah 40:22)".

Concluding Tip: My humble advice to wannabe Civil Servants is this: You may not be brilliant, may not have had good upbringing in education, and may have given up hope on your future; but suffer taunts and jeers for the Lord and develop Faith in Him. He will make you arrive at privileged destinations way beyond your dreams. If I could, why can't you?

Lunminthang Haokip

* Lunminthang Haokip, a resident of Old Lambulane, Imphal, wrote this article for e-pao.net . He can be contacted at lunminthang(dot)haokip(at)gmail(dot)com or his blog here
This article was webcasted on January 18, 2013.