MANIPUR - The Land of Jewels

We are just back after a fabulous holiday in the magnificent North- East, refreshed and rejuvenated. All set once again to face the eccentricities of modern day living. Transition from a holiday untouched by the hustle and bustle, where time has somewhat stood still,  is also a difficult proposition. We literally have to push ourselves into the rigors of our mundane lifestyle once again in the midst of an anarchic surrounding. Fresh and crisp rain washed greenery all around,terraced Jhoom farming, smiling faces, light hearted people, woodsmoke and dung cooking fires are the treasures we have left behind trading it for the chaos and claustrophobia of the Metro.

Typical landscape around Imphal - with lots of water and paddy

Kabaw Valley - View from Tengnoupal

Before embarking on this great holiday, I suddenly realized that way back in 1997 , I had left a big slice of my achy-breaky heart in the beautiful village of Tengnoupal, nestled in the hills of Manipur, a 70 km drive from the capital, Imphal. It was time once again to retrace my footprints, lost somewhere in the sands of time. After a long span of  17 years, I was going back to one of my favourite haunts where I had lived three years of my precious life. I still recall vividly how much in despair I was, when  my husband was posted there way back in 1994. I had never heard of Tengnoupal. It all sounded so strange and alien. When my friends rang up to congratulate us on the promotion and posting, I had to mention where I was off to. Unfortunately none of them had heard of this quaint, pristine hill station. So much for our Geography lessons in school !!The erstwhile princely state of Kangleipak remained so till our independence. Thereafter it was merged to the Union of India and called Manipur- one of the seven states of the North- East popularly known as the ' seven sisters'. But I must second the fact that the seven sisters are so beautiful, that anyone would crave to go back in time and again and yet will remain in a mesmeric trance !

Tengnoupal village



Manipur in the Meitei language means 'The land of Jewels' ! It has about 29 dialects, with a composition of  46 % Hindus who follow Vaishnavism since the 15th century AD  and Christians who comprise of 35% of the population. Manipuris are a highly cultured, soft spoken community. They have a rich cultural heritage to which they fiercely cling to. Theatre, sports and a form of martial art called Thang-ta  are extremely popular. Ras-Lila, the Manipuri dance form is very famous and is performed elegantly and rhythmically. Many of you will be surprised to learn that Manipur is the birthplace of Polo in the world. It has produced outstanding Polo players like Ojhatombi and Shyamjai Sharma who unfortunately did not get the opportunity of showcasing their talents in an International forum. The Manipuris are keen footballers too. Their woven fabrics, sarees and phanek- innpahi are to die for. Rice is their staple diet with a lot of fish and leafy veggies. It is a sight to behold - the wide expanse of paddy cultivated fields all along the exotic Imphal valley. As the old Burma road unwinds, snaking it's way uphill from Thoubal to Tengnoupal, pages of history slowly begin to unfold. This is the very road which has witnessed bloody and fierce battles between the Japanese and Allied Forces during the World War 2, all the way to the twin towns of Moreh 
( India ) and Tamu (Myanmar). It has been also a silent spectator to the havoc of the Naga-Kuki-Meitei insurgency. Sadly, a blood soaked road of yesteryears.

While we were there in the '90s we were privy to a yearly ritual of Japanese delegations coming in chartered buses to pay tribute to their dead. It is a heart wrenching sight to see the young and the old, reverently carrying a picture of their loved one around their neck. They call out to their martyrs who lie somewhere in the folds of the hills, anonymously in everlasting rest. They indeed call out each of their names, say special prayers, strew flowers everywhere and keep their favourite food too. Some very old men and women would tearfully bid a sad adieu not knowing whether they can ever make it again in this lifetime. Surely time and tide wait for none! Whenever we would do some new construction in this area it was so sad and disheartening to see skeletons, skulls, ancient Military boots, helmets, water bottles, personal effects like keys and copper coins tumbling out of the hills. A grim reminder of unsung, unknown heroes and an era lost to the present day civilization.

The Japanese delegation paying homage to their martyrs

Tengnoupal is approx 1490 mts above sea level in the Chandel district of Manipur - 'The land of a thousand whistling winds'. I recall vividly standing on ' Top of the World' overlooking the wide Burma valley (Kabaw valley). Surrounding hills and winds whistling past in urgency oblivious of any presence around, are all part and parcel of this wonderful place. When I arrived in Tengnoupal for the first time , the officers almost scared me by telling me that the sounds  I was hearing were not mere winds  blowing but second world war aircrafts coming in for an attack. It surely sounded that way!!

Tengnoupal I discovered, witnessed the most glorious sunsets. The skyline gets strewn with a myriad different colors and hues as though God himself was painstakingly painting this oversized canvass. I watched these pristine sunsets as often as I could and yet not had a fill of it. The sun would slowly and gradually sink behind the hills pulling the curtain over yet another splendid day. I would think to myself how fortunate I was while most of my countrymen had either not heard of this awesome part of India or endeavored to make a trip this side.

This time we had gone to specially attend a traditional Manipuri wedding of a friend's daughter.What a great experience it was! Manipuri weddings are a rather formal affair unlike weddings in other parts of  India.While the bride and groom are getting set to come to the Mantap , the drum dancers (Phung Cholom) perform a scintillating dance, an invitation to the Gods. The bride looks as radiant as an Oriental Princess dressed in a traditional Manda and all her finery. The couple does not smile or talk during the proceedings because they believe that if they do so, the opposite may befall them in their wedded life.

Our Manipuri Bride

Unless we Indians travel the length and breadth of our country extensively,we can hardly savor India in her true form and vividity. Also worth a visit is the Loktak Lake with its floating islands that move, called 'Phumdi' . The Seroi Lily in the Ukhrool district is a sight to behold.

Seroi Lily

It has a blueish pink hue and grows in the wild, over extensive areas. It flowers in the monsoon months of June and July, the peak season being May 15th-June 5th. The Seroi Lily is Manipur's state flower. You would also consider yourself lucky to see the wide variety of orchids that flourish in the wild.The History tour will not be complete without a visit to Field Marshal W.J Slim's bungalow nestled in the Kangla Fort, Imphal. Field Marshal W.J Slim was the Commander of the Allied forces in Manipur during the World War - II.

Loktak Lake

Loktak lake with the floating islands

A must see is also the RKCS art gallery, in Imphal.

So folks, next time you pack your bags and plan a holiday, do visit the North-East ... It is an experience of a lifetime.

I sincerely hope and pray that we all can put our guns back in the armoury, every one of us , and join the mainstream , thereby looking forward to a better tomorrow. Enough of blood has been spilt, we need to infuse life now and work shoulder to shoulder to develop this beautiful State. Let's dare to follow the star blazed road.

                  "Old candle - Let it burn bright - its light may show a path to someone in the dark"
                                                                                                                                   -Anonymous

* References:
Manipur - Wikipedia, the free encylopedia.
Available at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manipur

The Three-Legged Dog

The Army is a great meeting ground and I love it for this . After every single trip, I come back a more enlightened person. On one such sojourn, we had to take a midway break at one of the military stations on the Jammu-Pathankot highway. The Commanding Officer (CO) of the Regiment at that location, was bestowed with a great sense of humor. What I found delightfully refreshing was that for once, my husband's rank did not come in the way of our conversation. Otherwise more often than not, between seniors and juniors, it is usually a short, courteous, crisp exchange of pleasantries.

Most of us may have come across at some point in our lives, some freaky instances of the kind, I am about to narrate. When such situations stare starkly in our faces without prior warning , we do get a trifle disconcerted wondering whether these instances were tailor made specially for us.

The Army is very well known for its perfection in the execution of any task, military or administrative. In case you have closely observed a marching contingent, you would have noticed men almost of the same height , in proper uniform, heads tilted at the same angle. Hence it won't surprise you if I say that during the visit of a Senior Officer to a Regiment, everything would be ship shape without a ruffle. In fact, there is someone or the other overseeing the minutest detail. Squeaky clean porcelain, sparkling silver, stiffly starched Damask, are all usual. Even if it is a dry, parched area you won't be surprised to find a freshly laid out garden with a stately fountain spring up overnight! But in perfect detailing, there may be also blundering; depending on how the stars are positioned that day. It would not be a bad idea to read 'what the stars foretell' before choosing such an important date!

Many a time,when things do go wrong, it can really be catastrophic especially when everyone is all set to put their best foot forward. Prior to a VIP visit to a Regiment,  there is a flurry of activity. From nowhere is a meteoric shower of some weird characters, you may otherwise not be privileged to encounter on a normal day. A 'safaiwalla' with a long witch's broom looking for fallen leaves on a swanky drive way, just as the VIP convoy is turning into the gate; the most ill turned out sepoy ( left with a faint hint of olive green on his fatigues) pops out of the chaos, when he should not have been anywhere around; a washer man with a big paunch, yielding a threatening Kalashnikov at a prominent gate (an honor bestowed on him for that day by the aliens!); a sweaty, hassled cook running in a frenzy trying to locate the Mess Secretary to report that the potatoes for the cutless (read cutlets) have not arrived! Despite the racing heart beats and a nervous Adjutant trying to tuck in all such sore thumbs behind bushes, the noisy pesky fly shows up just in time to hover around the General's teapot!

I wondered whether these ajeeb (strange) instances happened only to a chosen few or whether others too had their share of such luck. Finally, all my doubts were put to rest and nailed firmly into the coffin when I spoke to this gentleman. The conversation that sunny, wintry morning went like this. Said the CO to me, that every General Officer visiting brought with him his slice of luck. He narrated how in his Regiment, every time a VIP arrived, there was  a prominent occurrence of a three legged dog appearing from nowhere right in front of the VIP, to be only seen subsequently at the next VIP visit.

The CO Saheb(sir) recounted how this ghostly doggone nuisance manifested the last time their GOC (General Officer Commanding) visited. The old man fatigued after a long drive through the wilderness, was trying to steal his last twenty winks when the flag car (VIP car) entered the pristine gates of the Regiment which still reeked of fresh paint. True to military ethos, no stone was left unturned for the visit, including white washing several blades of fresh green grass to showcase the Regiment's high standards!

All of a sudden there was a jarring sound of brakes. The old man in the rear seat had a rude jolt as though he was thrown off a precipice in a horrid dream. He forced open his droopy eyelids as wide as he could, only to see the three legged dog standing in the middle of the driveway, frantically being chased away by a dolt with a twig in his hand! Needless to say, the day did not begin on a great note. The CO became discursive, with beads of sweat on his brow almost forgetting his opening sentence.

Finally while departing, the GOC could not hold himself back. As a parting shot to the CO he said, "Look friend, in case you do insist on keeping a dog in this Regiment, at least keep one with all four legs!!"

An ode to a DAUNTLESS DAD on his daughter's wedding

As I reminiscence through the kaleidoscope of the days gone by, there comes to memory a myriad different thoughts in many hues. I had joined the Batallion for the first time in 1984 and I was introduced to this couple, not realizing that a wonderful relationship was soon to unfold. I remember that beautiful sun drenched morning in Hasimara when I stepped into their single room accommodation and saw a cradle in the corner of the room, with a lovely angel in it - their daughter Lira.

NJD was a guy full of irresistible loads of fun and energy and his wife Subadani - a beautiful, demure lady.  Little did I know then, that he was indeed living life to the hilt, unable to foresee what lay ahead.

In the course of time, we too shifted to a house nearby. It was aptly named 'Count your blessings' by my better half SKH. The name worked wonders on my psyche, because every time I wanted to cry out hoarse and complain, this name caught my eye, etched bold into the wall. The house had no formal doors or windows except for the frames which were intact. But we certainly had expensive curtains hanging on bamboo sticks, substituting for curtain rods! We were immensely proud that we had a roof above our heads and were granted permission to live together in a field area (areas close to the border). With our toddler, these were tough times. The sun's harsh rays and the wind's fury were all uninvited visitors who came at will.

One evening, I was told that NJ and some of our friends were calling on us. I expected the guests to make a formal entry through the so called 'door' ! But to my amazement, I saw NJ enter through the window, sitting on the ledge, wishing me a pleasant good evening ! He was a great friend of SKH, and the rest of the evening was spent in riotous laughter, over hot paranthas and andey ka bhujiya (an Indian variant of scrambled eggs) - the ever favourite army quick fix, laced with high spirits over exaggerated stories of angling for rainbow trout in the frigid waters of River Paro Chu !

When SKH was in Cooch Behar, NJ and his wife were his next door neighbors. One great lesson that the Indian Army taught me was the spirit of sharing - not just in words but in action. This aspect which all religions emphasize, I have seen it being executed extensively in the Army. This husband and wife team were very fond of fish and every time fish was cooked at their home, my husband was a sure invitee.

We were all proudly part of the 4th Batallion, the 5th Gorkha Rifles (Frontier Force) [ 4/5 GR (FF) ], a family which is as close to us as our kith and kin. It is here that I literally grew up from a naive 21 year old learning the joy of giving and sharing. We felt immensely honored to be part of such stouthearted officers and men. The motto of the Batallion, KAFAR HONU BANDA MARNU NIKO (It is better to die than be a coward !) was ingrained into our very existence.

Our famous regiment, the 5th Gorkha Rifles (5 GR), was formed in 1858, with the robust, sturdy and brave soldiers of Nepali origin. Thereafter, they proudly fought every war including the 1st and the 2nd World Wars, and all the wars post independence, with grit, valour and determination. We always reveled in the fact that our officers led from the front, though they paid a very high price in bearing the brunt of the casualties.

History is replete with many examples of the Gorkha weapon, the indomitable Khukri.

The curved shape of the weapon is supposedly the third eye of Lord Shiva. There is a famous saying amongst the Gorkhas that once a Khukri is pulled out, it must taste blood before being put back into the sheath. There is also a funny anecdote that I know of. After dealing a deadly blow, the enemy asked the Gorkha soldier, "Missed" ? "Try shaking your head" was the instant reply* ! In the present day context of war, Khukris are pulled out only as a last ditch effort when hand to hand combat is imminent. Our batallion had won the famous battle of Sylhet during the 1971 war when they were heli-dropped right in the midst of the enemy. Some of the operations involved the extensive use of the Khukri, in hand to hand combat.

The deployment of the IPKF (Indian Peace Keeping Force) in Sri Lanka from 1987 to 1990 is known to every citizen of this country. There was hardly any reaction time and our forces were airlifted into various pockets of Northern Sri Lanka, to bring an end to the civil war between the LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam) and the Sri Lankan armed forces. Unfortunately, they were sucked into an unenviable whirlpool of fighting.

Maj N J D Singh was a Company commander with the Batallion when they moved to Sri Lanka. The operation was launched on 9th Oct 1987. Bullets were flying all around and our men were fighting many a gallant battle against tremendous hurdles and hardships. Maj N J D Singh was ordered to link up with a column of 13 Sikh Light Infantry (13 SIKH LI) and 10 Para Commando (10 Para Cdo) in the area of Kondavil University. There was huge enemy resistance and heavy militant fire. He and his brave men kept forcibly surging ahead clearing the road blocks and successfully completing the task by dawn. Thereafter, the Batallion was ordered to concentrate at Urumpirai for undertaking further operations. This move was to take place through an urban built up area with large open spaces in between. While this was being negotiated, the LTTE managed to occupy all the buildings surrounding this area, bringing down heavy fire. At this juncture, Maj N J D Singh with a few of his stoic men, occupied a dominating position, and actively engaged the militants but unfortunately got isolated from his own company due to a high rise wall. His position was being continuously attacked and he radioed the Officiating Commanding officer asking for urgent reinforcements and ammunition. Even while this was being organised, he radioed "I am out of ammunition and am charging through. Good bye and out". He indeed charged and killed all the 5 men in the LTTE position which was bringing down heavy fire on them. During the charge, he and his men relied heavily on the Khukris. Unfortunately, he was grievously injured and succumbed to his injuries. The LTTE position was silenced. NJ fought true to the maxim -' last man, last round '. Alas, the King fell just as in NJ's favourite game - C H E S S.

Hey NJ,

Subadani has diligently completed your unfinished task of bringing up Lira and Punmark. Lira is a petite, young doctor and Punmark is a handsome engineer who plays chess just like you. Lira's wedding cards have arrived, and it is beautiful. Subadani, Lira, Punmark and all of us from the family of FOFIF will always be proud of you. We will miss you on the auspicious occasion of Lira's wedding. But I am more than sure, you'll be there to shower your blessings on her. NJ ... are you listening ??

A grateful and proud nation conferred the Gallantry Award of Vir Chakra on Maj N J D Singh posthumously on 26th Jan 1988.

COWARDS DIE MANY TIMES BEFORE THEIR DEATH. 
THE VALIANT FACE DEATH BUT ONCE ...   

- Julius Caesar (II, ii, 32-37),   William Shakespeare

Blogger : http://sarahkoshyjohnson.blogspot.in

Email  : sarah.k.johnson.794@facebook.com

References:
-*Illustrated Saga of the Gorkha Brigade (1952-2012)