This relates to the days I had spent in Aizawl where I was staying as paying guest with one family. The mother was a private school teacher while the father was a daily wage earner.

They had two sons and a daughter. The eldest was into rock music and we would jam together with his guitar off and on. The younger one was still in school. The eldest one would help his father with the odd jobs they were engaged in whenever he does not strum his guitar.

Sometimes, they would work as coolies carrying sacks of second hand clothes. At times, they would engage themselves as carpenters making chairs, beds, almirahs...

The younger one during his holidays would help out his brother and father or else venture out in the streets looking for odd jobs whichever he can lay his hands on. I remember him hawking socks in the bazaar chanting the price and running around trying to sell off his wares.

The picture may seem to be a family belonging to a very poor, impoverished and deprived family. However, it was not. They had computer, study in the best school in Aizawl, drive motor-bikes, dress in jeans and tees, have snacks at swanky restaurants, drink with friends... you know the normal life of an urban middle class family.

I remember one instance where the younger brother was thinking of what he can do to earn some pocket money. He saw two old Bengalis down the road with their instrument to pluck cotton with their inimitable twang of their instrument.

They went inside the neighbour’s residence. He followed them. The men tore up the mattress from the sides and took out the cotton. Then, they beat it up with a stick before striking the string of their instruments into the cotton to make it fluffy. Our friend observed them closely.

The next day, he went to the market bought a small log of wood, chiselled it and assembled his own instrument. He was telling me, "If these guys can earn money with this silly instrument, why not me?" The whole day he was mesmerized with his new invention.

The next day he was off to the streets with his instruments, playing the string and soliciting business. He came home late in the evening with his earnings. The family laughed and rejoiced.

This is not an isolated case of a family earning with their sweat. It seems the Mizos are not adverse to the idea of earning with one’s sweat. Therefore, in the streets of Aizawl, one can see women crushing sugar cane, women selling boot polish, insecticides, young girls operating vegetable kiosks, young guys with knick-knacks on their shoulders and hands competing each other for customers et al.

You will be surprised to know that young Mizo barbers operate all the saloons in the city. Cobblers are almost nil with every family having all the equipments to mend shoes at home including stitching. I was also compelled to buy the shoe stitching needle and stitch my own shoes!

Closer home, it feels like we, the Manipuris, are a lazy lot. For us menial work is a strict no. We love splurging our parents’ hard-earned money without a thought how much effort does it need to earn a paise.

Or sit at the roadside hotel gossiping that yields no benefit either monetary or physically. We seem to know everything under the sun and given a subject, we can talk for hours on it. We can sit the whole day listening to useless gossips about subjects ranging from how to become a millionaire to hot sensitive topics like Tipaimukh Dam.

At this juncture I remember a colleague who was very popular among our gang. Give him any subject and he can go on length about it. Once, gossiping inside our favourite joint, drinking red tea on credit, this guy talked about becoming a billionaire.

He presented a very interesting idea. I suspect he must not have slept the night before trying to switch on the brilliant electric bulb inside his head. His idea was to transfer some Indian rupees to Myanmar. The rupees will be converted into Kyat, which will of course, be more than the face value of the Indian rupee.

Now what he says is that the Kyat should be transferred to some other currency until the money is converted into US dollars. Ultimately, according to his brainwave idea, the original Indian rupee will have more value on its last leg of its journey after crossing the seven seas.

Then he took out his calculator from the left pocket of his coat, which was his second skin every winter for the last five years, and started working on how much a hundred rupee note would be worth after travelling all over the world. If my memory does not betray me, the hundred rupee note finally was worth more than two hundred fifty in the long run. So he again made wild calculation how much one crore will worth.

Finally, he says, "Lupa ani yaobra bhai? Churup thakse bhai." (Do you have two rupees? Let us have cigarette.) The irony is this guy who was talking in terms of billions was asking us for two rupees for cigarette!

The point is our youths today are lethargic, loath menial work and dream of getting a white-collar job. They want to wear the latest clothes, accessories and gizmos. They do not think at all about earning some and easing their parent’s burden.

Forget about easing the burdens of their parents, work means experience and it helps in building up a habit of being thrifty. In short, it helps one to know the value of money and how much one has to toil and sweat to earn a rupee.

Also forget about doing menial jobs, the urban youths are not even ready to become a municipal sweeper. It is also being popularly satirized that Manipuris may be the only creature on this earth who have no qualms about getting married, multiply like rabbits and above all still depend on their old parents for that evening peg.

I remember one instance in Imphal when the saloons closed down for about two or three months some years back. A few enterprising youths decided to take up the matter in their own hands. They started wielding scissors and comb and started their own saloon.

However, they did not last. Once the migrants came back to business, our own indigenous brothers had to close down their shutters. This tells us something about our approach to business and how we lack that spirit of competition.

If our youths had been enterprising and respect what we call dignity of labour, then we would have no need for outside migrants pulling thelas, running kiosks, sell Kanglapat water to the public and what not.

While we may question the influx of migrants in our homeland, it would be equally important to consider the labour services they are providing to us.