Why You Mustn't Grow Old, Ever

My darling beautiful momma is in her mid-60s now. Her walk and mien carry stories of toil; of age and frailty and strife that a vagarious world threw at her.

But you will never–indeed ever–know a person younger than my mom once you have met her: I know she'll love you and you'll love her.

For a person who’s now readying for the sunset years, mom still squirrels away anything that’s tiny, cute and colourful:

* Colourful little cell phone bags

* Anything pink and yellow
* Slippers with tiny yellow ribbons
* Toasters with teddy bears
* Colourful crockery
* Biscuit containers that have flowers on them

You’ll find her even carefully arranging tiny cars and dolls my nephews and nieces keep at our place for the weekends.

And yes, Mom loves–I mean deeply loves–football. Anyone from my family will tell you that there’s one 60+ years old deaconess in Nagaland who stays up till 2:30 AM watching European Premier League.

Momma, a 60+year old women leader with Dimapur Lotha Baptist Church, I tell you–I swear to you–also loves (I swear again)

* Van Helen
* Michelle Branch
* Whitney Huston
* Roxette 
* White Heart
* Petra
* Eric Johnson

I swear.

Her phone is filled mostly with classical and rock guitar instrumentals, Christian rockers Petra and classic hard rock Van Halen hits, besides the usual menu of hymns and worship songs. She listens to them literally every night. Just ask my brothers and sisters and nephews / nieces and cousins.

And yes, Mom has dreams to travel to Israel and Venice one day. She wants to take out a safari in Africa. She reads English literature to improve her English. She loves The Voice and So You Think You Can Dance.

She wants to take a course in tailoring. She loves running shoes and Sneakers although she can barely walk briskly. She wants to meet MP Neiphiu Rio and give him a message about what Jesus Christ wants Naga leaders to do.

October 1 is International Day for the Elderly.

But I tell you, the day is not to celebrate the accomplishment of age–it is to celebrate lives and life.

Mom has taught me a truth: age and beauty were never connected in any way.

Only when you have given up on your dreams, you will have lost your youth finally. Let’s never grow old.

I hope you never grow old, my friends. I hope your heart will never know age.

The day you let go of your dreams, will be the day you start to age.

Don't.

What it means to be truly advanced

(A reflection following a local tribal community in Nagaland banning the opinions of newspaper editor Monalisa Changkija)

It was in 2008. That small conversation is still vivid. I recall turning to my former colleague Longrangty Longchar and declaring to him, “Believe me, Longti, the first district in Nagaland to implement the 33% reservation of seat for women will be Mokokchung.”

I still chew my words and have yet to complete eating them.

Now, the Ao Senden – of all the organizations to ever represent a Naga plethora – would find itself yet again in our familiar bamboo groves. The groves from whence we naked savages emerged to find an air-plane. Monalisa Changkija was merely a piece of conscience.

Maybe – just maybe – we may have to forgive the little human foibles of our bucolic community leaderships for issuing diktats to cull pet dogs (and imposing exorbitant fines on owners who protest!).

And such small inhumanities, and go on with our lives.

Maybe – just maybe – all that we can do is simply to pull at the hem of our suits, and offer a piece of pretend mien that drips with uptown complacence. That political gesture just might diffuse any awkward askance at us, on our histories, and into our little pathological flaws. And insecurities.

Maybe – just maybe – a pinch of salt to accommodate our rusted minds; that our pompous interpretation of old history just might find new inspiration in this new age.

Maybe – just maybe –turning the cheek just might thwart any awkward assessment from superior minds about our society and how we face life and educated sensibilities.

Unfortunately, history does not decide the future. It is the present that feeds history. What feeds the present is how we use history. My father and his family were pioneers too – some of the Naga peoples’ first generation of high-ranking state officials, and educationists. And many other Naga families and communities were so too.

Unfortunately, that does not make me a pioneer.

Censuring intellectual freedom, free speech and freedom of conscience fits the taxonomy of inhumanity which only socialist blood-mongers such as China and North Korea are capable of. They bite just because they discovered they had teeth to bite with.

Education is only a tool, not the fruit. Our grandfathers were pioneers, not us. I tell you, to be truly civilized you must refuse to be slave to prejudice. 

You must honor humane intellectual traditions before you can be called advanced.

That, my friend, is what it means to be truly civilized.