TODAY -

The Lower Kuki Psyche

By Lunminthang Haokip *



The Craving For Attention: Nothing elates the Kuki-ego better than putting on a show. P.T. Yamthang, a social critic who's best known for keeping his audience in ceaseless splits when he, in his elements, chit-chats on events in wayside tea-stalls, exploiting his own satirical flair for verbal-gymnastics, once said this. A sleek jeep whizzed into the State Secretariat, and came to a screeching halt. A booted, suited and bespectacled Thangkhanlal (a Minister, then ) dismounted in style with a cap in hand. In split seconds, about half-a-dozen political workers ( all Kukis ) of the high-flying Zou-leader with the midas-touch, flaunting heads turned grey by sub-urban dust, jumped down one by one from the back of the Singhat-friendly vehicle with the pride of a paratrooper and rubber-necked around, each loudly thinking, " Am I being seen by others?"

The VLPB: The progressive village-level power-broker (VLPB) dons this ostentatious mind-set to perfection. Calculatingly ambitious, his type as a rule, marries, sorry, elopes with a gullible daughter of the susceptible village-chief that he may have a larger stake in administrative affairs. He's a high school drop-out; but lack of higher education is suitably compensated for by native craftiness and a persuasive oratory-skill. To keep up with his double-standards, he lives in a house partly roofed with thatch-leaves and partly with G.I. sheets.

Zounungak


Guru-Chela: The smart-operator employs simple modus operandi. He volunteers to offer a sumptuous meal to appreciate and dish-honour every visiting dignitary including district and block-level officers. He's so close to the circle MLA that the latter even issues signed blank letter-heads to him. The bonhomie between the two grows firmer with every show of unflinching loyalty by the speculating power-broker during polls. The MLA-turned-Minister can count on the succour of his supple yet subtle supporter as long as he gives the faithful follower free access to the perks and privileges of minister-dom. While the 'chela' savours being pampered and introduced to biggies, a snide remark from the Guru's family is enough to for ever alienate the touchy 'Kismet ka thikadar' and make him switch over allegiance to rival camps. Reminds me of a saying in Hindi, "Jaisa Guru, waisa chela; dono narak mein thelam thela "

Itches Of The Neo-Rich: Decades ago, when the flow of funds wasn't throttled by overdrafts and bans, the VLPB frequented offices with the delight of a hypochondriac at a medical convention. Following the sudden glut of schemes for the poor, in his frog-in-the pond mentality, he thought he had more money than he knew what to do with. Neatly stacking up a few tens of thousands of rupees inside his inner-room trunk-box, and putting his finger vertically across his lips, he warned the wife of his youth in low tone , "Silly woman, keep the doors properly locked when you go out. This is not our lifestyle and living standard of the past".

The Necessary Evil: The stocks of the moneyed dream-merchant soar in rural transactions. He is consulted and approached in every matter. Self-centered, he enjoys the undue importance he's showered with. In our pathetic back-blocks, means fall far short of needs. The period between the harvest and the fall of the next year's spring-season is set aside for various social and religious activities. Village foundation day or youth day is to be exulted over with fanfare. A poor family is to send off their daughter in holy marriage. A memorial stone awaits to be laid. Christmas will be celebrated with butchery of a few oxen. The village is to host the parish spiritual conference immediately after the area sports-meet. The schedules are hectic. The artistic damsel is anxious. How's she going to finish loin-weaving the shawl she desperately needs to sell off before the tourney commences?

Days Are Dark: Elsewhere, the debt-rich father of the bride-to-be sulks. Tradition demands that he forks out dollops of pork and beef for village-folks and sundry kindred to feast upon before his daughter is decently bid adieu. Besides, the bride is to be sent off along with fresh household paraphernalia. In this year of horrible harvest, how on earth is he going to make both ends meet in the later-half?

Broker of Situations: If problems come, can the VLPB be far behind? In the absence of big rivers in his vicinity where he can spend time fishing, he loves to fish in troubled waters. Loans are given to those who are in dire-straits to be paid back in kind (read paddy), with interest. If they can't repay, there's no harm He'll write off the debts with an eye on advantage to bargain when election comes. Defaulters have no choice but to fall in line. No situation of helplessness is left unexploited. To increase his influence in village-affairs, the affluent broker of power doles out generous sums for every cause worth its name. Ill-gotten gains, in turn, help him gain a clout-of-sorts in being the medium of questionable deals linking rural development and satraps of governance.

The Kuki Yuppie: There isn't dearth of issues and excuses to blow up the filthy-lucre the VLPB loots. Guilt-ridden, he considers it his duty to bear the cost of buying sports-kits for the village soccer team, uniforms for the choir, licensed guns for the defense wing etc. When his folks are to attend a meeting at a distant venue, he hires a four-wheeler without a murmur. If the chartered means of transport happens to be an old soft-top jeep, he makes it a point to sit at the outermost left-side edge of the front-seat with Ms left leg conspicuously hung outside the body of the right-hand drive and rested on the foot-rest. That has become a type of status symbol for one who's sold on being on a roll.

Kuki ethnic group


The Rural Showmanship: Desire is to attain recognition and celebrity-hood by hook or by crook. So, the VLPB smokes 555 cigarettes but offers cheaper stuff to lesser hangers-on around. His audacious show-offish-ness can only be rivaled by that of a just-retired, fresh from the uniformed-cadre ex-serviceman. Money is unsparingly spent to boost up his societal prestige percentage. A man of drive, he doesn't know when he's being taken for a ride. Motive for attending functions isn't anything weightier than "to see" and "to be seen ". The trouble with him is that his roving eyes end up overseeing the facades of the fairer species. That's how vanity creeps in to make the hitherto straight-fellow forget the wife of his salad days, gets entrapped by ultra-modern inducements and fall head-long into the bottomless-pit of adultery and polygamy.

YWAM: Youth With No Mission: Not everybody gets money the easy way though. Out in the hills where one ekes out a semblance of a living literally by the sweat of one's brow, to think of the morrow is to be full of sorrow. Where there are no spirit-led men to preach godly righteousness, youngsters grow up with scant regard for the Word of God. In brazen breach of Biblical beatitudes, they take to sin as a duck takes to water. Fed with violence and bred in ignorance, some defiant adolescents turn out to be wolves who don't even bother to put on a sheep's clothing.

Rebel Without A Pause: There was an angry young man in a hilly chief-dom. His girl-friends were the victims of his sudden rancor. A chain-smoker, his dad sent him to buy a pack of panama cigarette from a shop located 8 kms away. Ever on his guard, the wild lad took a knife along as a habit. There came the opportunity he had been dreaming for ; the ideal situation to loot and prove his skill as a crook of calibre.

The Bandit's Debut: On his way, he was joined by some traders coming from Burma border. Triggered by basic instinct, at knife-point, the debuting bandit robbed the petty traders of whatever money they had. The looted victims ran for then lives and filed a complaint at the VVF out-post where the young fiend was to shop. Now, the booty-king toyed with the idea of escape. But what about his dad's puff? So, risking torture, for the fear of a spanking from a terrible daddy, he went ahead to fulfill the old man's wish.

The Bruised Obedient: There at destination point, after his purchase, the VVF volunteers caught hold of him and beat him black and blue till he coughed up the amount plundered. Nevertheless, he got back home, with a broken jaw, a swollen chin, eyes smeared with fist-battered layers of 'kajal' and of course, also with dear papa's panama packet. Who says a Kuki-son doesn't take parent's order seriously. So what if he couldn't open his eyes for the next two weeks? He had the odd satisfaction of drawing first blood of crime.

Kuki ethnic group


Violent Yoking: In a classic case of violent yoking of dissimilar, traits-in-conflict are vehemently banded together in the Kuki-character. Violent-temper and a humorous bent-of-mind, normally do not mix well. But, in the Kuki psyche, they blend and bond beautifully to strike a balance that tilts heavily on neither side. It's a pleasant surprise to notice that even the most ferocious Kuki hasn't lost Ms sense of humour. The man who throws a tantrum and walks out of the annual assembly of the local church , for all his fits of fury, has the potential to make the entire village weep in laughter at the post-Christmas get-togethers euphemistically named 'Lenkhom'.

Comedy of errors: Every Kuki village prides in having one such village level humorist (VLH). For the better part of the year, the VLH curiously observes errors in human behavioral patterns, mentally saves them in his upper chamber, and adding bits of exaggeration here and there, double-clicks the stored-up data to amuse annual social gatherings with jokes unlimited. Parallels can be drawn with the popular Meitei " Epom ". That, to the fun-fancying Kuki, is nothing lesser than slapstick comedy.

The Word-spinning Prince : The early seventies saw the steady emergence of Hemlet, the uncrowned prince of Dongjang (near Sugnu in Manipur) from a nondescript VLH to a sought-after DLH (District-level) and latter to a SLH (State-level). His gags were wholesome. He never took personal potshots on anybody. Reveling in harmless hyperboles, Hemlet Baite shot to fame with one-liners like, "I came to know about my super-stamina the moment I cut banana-trunks deep with a knife". He also had a knack for underplayed buffoonery and churned out subtleties like, "I felt immensely pleased when my mom, one fine day, confided in me in whispers that I am older to my younger brothers ".

The Imaginary Barter: The endearing clown had this jaw-splitting tale to tell, " Once in utter hunger, 1 loitered around the eateries of Imphal city with a few coins in my pocket. The coins were too meager to buy me a square meal. I therefore positioned myself in front of the restaurants and tried to quench my hunger by inhaling the sweet aroma of the food-items on offer. Catching me red-handed in the offbeat act, the manager of the eatery insisted on my payment for the invisible aromatic inhalation. I was shocked. And in a flash of witticism, for which I lauded myself, I shook the coins in my pocket and told the manager that the clanking sound the coins produced was my tit-for-tat answer to the bogus notional bill demanded clearance of. That way, somehow I could settle scores with the restaurateur's chutzpah."

The Suave Comedian: Then came in the fun-laden scenario glib-tongued scene-stealers like Sonmang Chongloi who catered to the taste of the classes with utterances steeped in twist of irony like "Among the politicians, Rev. T. Lunkim walks closest to God". He was equally candidly bitter about his better-half, "At night, in my sub consciousness, when my tender skin touched the extra-rough, skin-edges of my wife's heels, I thought the neighbours saw-mill-blade had cut me apart."

The Kuki I.S Johar: Mikhel Lhunkhohao's jibes and digs dug deep insults in the hearer's sensibility. " The sun will never set on the S.L-empire as long as S.L. Paokhosei is in power", was his sarcasm-soaked person-specific remark on his circle MLA of the time. What follows was yet another wisecrack of his on Kuki National Assembly, "He who KNA political party supports whole heartedly, cannot recover status-quo in material well-being till the lapse of five long years."

The Sell-Out Jester: Comedians may come, comedians may go. But what can fade out from one's mental screen the superb take-offs of mimic king, Mithun Jangpao, on the real Elvis-clone Mithun's pelvic gyrates. Apart from the hilarious burlesques he was excellent at, the Kuki answer to Johny Lever, enthralled his audience with Basanti-inspired songs sung in female voice replete with coy mannerisms.

Force-landing of Fried Potatoes: In more recent years, the art of making people laugh in Kuki settlements was articulated to jocular heights by a lean and thin comedy-aficionado called Ngamsei. His audio and video cassettes were a sell-out. He was a craze among the NRKs. One witty comment of the chronic fun-sick beatnik that deserves mention time and again, is reproduced below: "I'm not amazed by the launch of of rockets in space; neither do I wonder how men landed on the moon. But one thing that baffles me in bewilderment is the mind-boggling enigma as to how fried pieces of potato landed inside a Shingra (Samosa) without leaving holes".

Toughies Days: Jokes aside, yarns on hazaar bizarre anecdotes can be spun about the odd episodes through which love blossomed among teenage-Kukis. Normally, masculine savagery in courtship puts off and evokes resentment in the feminine psyche. Frailty, thy name is woman, Shakespeare confirmed. But with a Kuki, the contrary can be true as well. Some dare-devil toughies of the early seventies had the gumption to make goondaism an asset in romance.

The Dreaded Lane: In those days when might wasn't entirely wrong, a love-sick local dada from a Lambulane adda took his date and her friends for a feed in a nearby cafe called Shankar hotel, hi a bid to impress the lasses in company, the street-smart impresario placed orders for every sweet-meat in sight. Fairly floored, his lady-love almost believed that she'd hooked a Knight-in-shining-armour. In actuality, he was a mere tenter-hooked street-fighter-in-fading-denim that had not pocketed a paisa for weeks.

Hard Choice: While the girls giggled and nibbled at the choice edibles, the guy, guilt-stricken, was all sweats tiring his brain to think out a way to clear the "whopping" bill. He got up, strutted towards and leaned on the money-counter, hung his jacket on his left arm and turned his back on the ladies. Then, displaying bulging biceps with a piercing stare to match, he asked the manager, as if to pay money (for the benefit of the girls), "Shanker(waving his giant fingers), Achoiba pambra (meaning do you want a slap)?", and tossing about a tightly-clenched fist right under the nose of the shivering manager while hiding his tricks of threat from the rest of the entourage, said, "Natraga mapum pambra (meaning do you want a solid punch)?". The manager got the message and nodded in fear. All said and done, poor Shankar was made a sucker of.

Remembering Human-been: So as to be declared fit to keep his fans in complete splits, a star-humorist needs to constantly re-invent himself. That very ensnaring hang-up of a pressure to ever perform better becomes his undoing. Every dog has its day. Dadagiri was tolerated once upon a time. The entertainers cited in the preceding paras had their own respective hey-days. Each brand of jest was preferred in a particular period of a decade. But the tragedy of life is that bailing one, all the top-bracket Kuki jesters mentioned in this write-up had already kicked the bucket. The jokes they cracked as human-beings had such a lasting impact on public memory that when they became human-beens, nobody credited the sad event with the distressed seriousness usually reserved for the death of a mortal.

Weird Events: One of the jesters profiled earlier died in a strange bus-accident. Another died of a mysterious ailment, and yet another, of a malady that defied every remedy prescribed. Unable to bear the pangs of sorrow life is beleaguered with, the most cultured among them, drank himself to an early grave. Their untimely demises cannot and should not be brushed off as chance coincidences. It's widely agreed upon that in then¬ heightened enthusiasm to generate high-decibel laughter, the otherwise well-meaning top-notch jesters might have quoted scriptures out of context and taken God's name in vain. This could possibly have invited the judgment of the Almighty.

The Warning: " Thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that take His name in vain (Exodus 20:7)". A Bible commentator elaborated further, "God's name is special for it carries His personal identity. Using it frivolously or in a curse is so common today that we may fail to realize how serious it is. The way we use God's name conveys how we really feel about him. We should respect His name and use it appropriately, speaking it in praise or worship rather than in curse or jest. We will not be found guiltless if we dishonour His name."

When we pray the Lord's prayer, we say, " Hallowed be thy Name ( Luke 11:2)". Everything we see, know, feel and touch above and below the atmosphere provide ample reason for us to always hallow God's name. All the billion dollars of the world can not provide us pure air, pure water for all, a pure heart and fool-proof security. They can only be gifted from heaven.

The Lone Master: It's God alone who makes a child grow, a plant fructify, seasons change at the dot of time and the cosmic bodies stay put in then proper places. Every living soul in existence on this strife-torn and calamity-prone mess between two poles ought to hallow His name in thought, in speech and in deed for safety and security. Now that the twin WTC sky-scrapers once touted to be perfectly safe and insured against forces of destruction, like the Titanic, had proved us wrong, where else can we turn to? "The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe (Prov. 18:10)."

Think before You Speak: More often than not, we take God's name in our swearing, curses, jests and corrupt communications. That's not hallowing but desecrating His holy name. Doing so, we uncover ourselves from His unfailing protection. We are hallowing when we use His name in fear and trembling and carefully weigh every word we speak. True wisdom calls for usage of the right word at the right time. Proverbs 25:11 puts it on record, "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver". Amen


Lunminthang Haokip


* Lunminthang Haokip, a resident of Old Lambulane, Imphal is a regular contributor to e-pao.net.
The writer self-describes himself as 'an occasional pen-pusher and a regular reader of E-pao!!!' . He can be contacted at minth8657(at)gmail(dot)com.
This article was webcasted on August 09, 2010.



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