When a man's needed

Feminists be damned, theres one area over which we females will never approximate to a male, and thats in brute strength. Sister #5 and I have pleaded, begged and badgered mom to get a male servant but she thinks she has a man's strength so she remains adamantly against the idea. 

We once had the perfect male servant. Well almost- he went out one Sunday and never returned and some of our stuff mysteriously disappeared with him too. He was 5 ft of muscle. He can hoist himself off the ground with just his arms, using a pole as support, aligning his body perfectly parallel to the ground. When he carried heavy loads he's skip merrily, waving his arms and saying "Heiha huiha". And he also fancied laddies so it was perfectly safe to leave him around with five little girls. Now he's gone :(

Our house is located on a hill and all routes to it contain hundreds of steps, vehicle inaccessible. Many's the time #5 and I have staggered our way up those steps when theres a delivery of sacks of rice, building materials, gas cylinders etc. Today, a truckload of sand unexpectedly arrived. We had only one worker to help and he was scrawny and puny. It looked to be a long day's work for #5, me and him.

Bro-in-law #2 came over, bought us icecreams, said he had work and couldnt stay, told us to change into long pants (we were in shorts) because we had Vai workers and they might ogle. We dimpled prettily but didnt change. Who ever heard of mucking about in sand in long pants?

Then #4 and her hubby, bro-in-law #3 came over. #4 wants to "play in the sand" too and she told her hubby to take their six-month-old son. Hubby insisted on being a man (yayyy) and helped us instead. So there was no longer any need for #5 and I to walk up and down the steps carrying sackfuls of sand. All we had to do now was to load the sacks with sand while bro#3 and puny worker carried them. And God made the weather blissfully cloudy so it wasnt too bad.

Yes, yes, I know, we look like models on an exotic fashion shoot but still, it was grueling work. Anyway, one highlight of the day was when two little schoolboys, probably 6 or 7 years old came over and insisted on helping. The held open the sacks for us and then asked for a handful of sand as payment :D

Then they ran away, cupping their treasures in their hands, whooping in delight. I want sons like those. And thats another instance where men prove helpful too. To help in procreation.

Anyway, its now time to clean up the mess the workers made, and to start preparing dinner. A woman's work is never done. Thats when its nice to have a man around to talk to after a hard day's work.

So feminists and supporters of all-female utopias be damned-again. Men do have their occasional uses. And I for one am going to badger my mom again about seeing to a male servant. 

The unmarried sister- a must-have.

After five (wonderful) daughters, my parents have been recently blessed with a fourth grandSON. (It runs in both sides of my family, this propensity towards having children all belonging one sex). So anyway, guess who was called on to assist in all this wonderful plethora of child-bearing and rearing? Unmarried sister extraordinaire Kuku, that's who. 


I've been alternating nights at the hospital with my mom because my bro-in-law's family does not have any available, competent nurse to help my sister recuperate. I don't mind though, even if the latest addition to the family is an ugly little bawl-his-lungs-out-at-all-hours-of-the-night crybaby. Being called on to help out is part of being THE unmarried sister, after all. 


I was in boarding school when daughter #1 had her son, but I comforted her through her crying jags and midnight cravings for wai-wai during her pregnancy. Daughter #4,who by-passed #2 and me, #3 at the marriage stakes should get down on her knees and thank me. I changed numerous diapers for her two sons, even washing soiled cloths for her. Then when she and her husband decided to cut set up house together, her husband had to go frequently out of station, so I was the one who had to help her get set up. 


She was heavily pregnant with her second son at the time, and this was just before Christmas, so you can imagine the picture- me trying my best to shield my future nephew from the rush of the crowd as we go search for stuffs for their house. I did things I never imagined myself doing- haggling with Pick-up truck drivers for delivery and stuff, walking all over Aizawl searching for good but not-too-expensive furniture items, buying floor carpets, cushions, cutlery etc. and arranging their delivery- all the while protecting my unborn nephew and his bursting-at-the-seams mother.  


It's a fact that with great responsibility comes great grumpiness. Before #1 and #2 got married, they were the epitome of grumpiness because the responsibility of the house fell on them. My mom declared some fifteen years ago that with five daughters, she was retiring from household chores and concentrating on doing what she loved best- doing manual work in the garden and our farm. So the onus of the household chore-dom fell naturally on the eldest sister. Hence the grumpiness. 


And then they got married and became mothers. #1, whom we secretly nick-named "The Dragon" became a madonna- placid, smiling and endlessly patient. And #2 with her hair-line temper has now followed suit. Last night, as her little tyke kept up an incessant wail, she crooned softly to him with the tenderest smile. Of course, when her husband, who also spent the night there remarked on the unruliness of their 4-day old baby, she turned on him like a tigress. And when I slept a little too soundly and the little monster's diaper needed to be changed, she called "Kuku... KUKU... CHHUUUNGIII!!!(Her lovely pet-name for me)".


#4, who, as I mentioned by-passed me and #2, loves reminding me that my biological clock is ticking. She's always been a little different; eversince she was a kid, her aim had been to be a good wife and mother. Of the five of us, she's the only one who fulfilled her childhood dreams (I wanted to be the first female CM of Mizoram). She says, "By the time I'm in my thirties, my kids won't need that much looking after, and I'll be able to re-beautify myself and concentrate on doing what I want. Giving birth ages you, and by the time you give birth you'll be too old to rejuvenate yourself". She also loves warning me of how much it will hurt because I left it so late to have children. She should know, she took barely an hour to go from labour pains to giving birth. Lucky thing. 


So anyway, as the relatively competent unmarried sister, I'm the one who's always called on to do the dirty jobs. I now hold the dubious honour of being the elder sister, since there's only me and #5 left. And I'm starting to become grumpy too. Maybe when I have a child I'll become sweet-tempered again. I know, I know, its terribly chauvinistic to say that motherhood makes placid beings out of harridans and if a guy had said this I'd probably shoot him.


I don't intend to be the unmarried sister forever. I want my own ugly little monster and a live heater in my bed too someday. And this reminds me of a conversation I had with my grandmother some months back. I was basking in the warmth of her praise over my being an all-round great daughter and sister, when she said, "You must never get married. You should stay home and look after your parents and be there for your sisters anytime they need you". I guess I protested a little too loudly because now the whole maternal side of the family jokes about my fear of NOT getting married.


Anyway, time to cut off my long with this great lesson for all- treat your unmarried sisters like gold, for one day they may get married.

King Jeremy the Queen

No, am not talking about drag queens..

The queen I'm talking about had a rabid jungle cat for a mother and Mephistopheles the demon as her father.

Her previous owners gave her the insipid name "Brownie" but after a day with her we renamed her Jeremy after a Pearl Jam song about a good looking boy who went off the rails and shot all his classmates.

"King Jeremy the wicked

ruled his world"

She was beautiful with her sleek body, her tawny red-gold and black stripes and golden eyes. And she was meaaaannnn >:(

She had an unerring instinct for detecting cat-haters and whenever one came to our house, she would jump them, sinking her claws into their legs and hanging on stubbornly while they whirled in a panicked dance. She never responded when we called, but the moment we sit down to read the newspaper, she'd sprawl right on the paper, giving us a challenging look.

And when we reprimanded her, she'd stand on her hind legs and wave her claws at her, daring us to a cat-fight. She refused the food we gave her and subsisted instead on the sparrows around our home. She also hunted us. Sis Ayie gave her the Mizo name "Puss-phaki".

One day she came home pregnant and meaner than ever. We had a gentle, eager-to-please pregnant dog at the time too and Jeremy went and scratched the poor dog everyday. And the stupid dog always protected her from other cats and dogs.

She gave birth to two lovely kittens, while dog had three puppies. When one of the pups died, dog nudged her all day, licking her and whining softly. And Jeremy- Jeremy ATE her babies.

I threw her out of the house. I learnt later that cats sometimes kill their young if they were too weak to survive. But at the time I didnt know it, and I was too angry with devil cat that not only did I throw her out, I gave her a kick too.

Jeremy never forgave. Vengeance was her middle name- King Jeremy "Vengeance" Puss-phaki Pachuau. Long name. And Pachuau girls are said to be stubborn and domineering, and while submissive, docile me never had those traits, they were magnified manifold in Jeremy. She avenged sevenfold herself on us.

She cursed the family, and especially me. I failed my XII Boards that year and my sisters also did horribly in their studies too. Not only that she puked every morning right at our front door. She also shredded my mom's plants.

But her biggest retaliatory move was to entice every tomcat she came across, and lure them into our backyard, and they did the deed at midnight. And she would yowl reaaaallly loudly and primally and it greatly embarrassed us. Hell, her primal screams would have made the Marquis de Sade blush. Anyway, she gave birth to a lot of babies over the years and they inter-mated and proliferated and terrorized us. We were lucky none of her spawn were as vindictive as she was. Their genes were probably diluted by the spineless tomcats she mated with. Now if she had gotten together with the Hitler-lookalike cat that lived a few houses away from us, it would have been a different story.

I don't know how Jeremy met her end. She wanted to keep us guessing, I guess. Most probably she went and died at a cat-hater's house just to freak them out. She was like that.

So this is why I will probably never have a cat again. Not because I hate cats but because after Jeremy, every other cat seems really tame and insipid and boring. And I also find it hard to respect dogs. Maybe one day I'll get myself a dog that looks like a wolf....

"The other half of the sky is the most beautiful"- For Mother-i

I am blessed with the best mother in the whole wide world.

Unconventional yet traditional, outspoken yet respectful, pious yet pragmatic. And always strong. That's my momma.

Your'e one of my best friends but you never let me lose sight of the fact that your'e also my mother. I remember telling you that I am scared of marriage. And you told me that, despite the fact that our religion and culture is against it, you actually approve the idea of live-in, trial marriages! Of course, you hastened to add that you did not want to actually let me make that kind of arrangement :-)

I like that you told me that I should quit smoking, but gave me the option to make my own decision as an adult without imposing your authority on me. I like that you always treat me as an adult, and refuse to sugar coat the truth. But you are never brutal with it too.

I love that you want your daughters to be strong, independent women. I love that you wish we would have the courage to backpack around the world, but that your'e equally protective of us. I like that you bought me a scooter so that I would not have to always rope in a guy to ferry me about. I'm sorry that I chickened out and the scooter is lying idle in the garage. Most of all, I love that you don't think that that makes me a pansy (at least you don't say it out loud) :P

I loooovee that you listen to Pink Floyd, Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin (My mom ROCKS)!!! I love that you listen to the songs on my playlist like A7X, Silverchair, Coldplay and Matchbox 20. I love that you always give us a couple of beers on special occasions so that we won't have to go sneak off drinks from some dubious source.

I love that you never turn away a hand in need, but you never give free hand outs either. When less fortunate people come begging to you, you always make them do little chores around the house, and then you pay them extravagantly. You take them to hospitals if they or any one in their family needs medical help. But what I love the most is that you refuse to treat anyone as a beggar; rather you make them feel like worthy human beings who have the capability to EARN their bread for them selves.

I love that you never badgered dad to bring in more money when you had to struggle to pay for the education and boarding fees of five girls. You sold off your jewellery without a qualm. I swear that we will repay you for all those and more.

I love your courage. When dad went away on a business trip, and a burglar entered our house one night, you chased him off with a frying pan, and stayed awake all night in case he would come back. And you did all this quietly so that we won't wake up and be frightened. You teach us that God watches over us all, but that we also have to watch out for ourselves so that we may not make His work harder.

Most of all, momma, I respect the fact that you are so hard working. You refuse to sit idle. You do what is considered a man's job. Carpentry, cementing, layering, plumbing, field work- you do all that, apart from the traditional women's work. And the most amazing transformation takes place when you change out of your dirty work clothes and you turn yourself into a big-shot officer's pampered-looking wife. Your hands are rough and calloused, but they are the most beautiful hands to me.

I love you, Mother-i. Your'e a phenomenal woman and I am proud to be yours.

My Brothers.

Actually meant cousins… Had a brief chat with one, and he made me nostalgic for the good ol’ days. I have four sisters, and somehow I was designated to be the ‘guy’ among the bunch. So when we were young my bros treated me like the runt of the litter- using me as a punching bag, tying me up, ambushing me in tandem when playing “intheng kah”… Things haven’t changed that much. When they come over to our place, they crowd into my tiny room, smoke up a storm, sneak in a lil’ booze, and generally leave a mess there. And the worst part is, I get none of the perks of being a guy. They forbid me to even have a tiny sip, they rat on me when I smoke, they never take me on their night outs, and they constantly send me to brew endless cups of tea. But … I still love them. My bros are typical characters. They fit neatly into slots like…:

The Sweetheart:

This describes my bro whom I will call…Kawla, hihihi… During those Mirc days, he was chatting with my very bored sister. Sis decided to be screwball and she fabricated this story about how she had gone home with one Tibetan guy one drunken night. Now she’s preggers, and the guy refuses to know, and she can’t keep the baby, so she’s going to abort it, but it costs 5000 bucks, and she’s broke. Rtpa just said, “Hold on”, then went offline. Sis thought he got pissed with her lies, but then he returned an hour later.

“Okay, I’ve just couriered 3000 to your hostel. I’ll borrow the 2000 tonight, and send it to you tomorrow. Make sure you go to a good hospital”.

Sweetie!! My sis confessed that she had lied, and he started to get angry. So, sis switched tactics, and she reamed into him for even believing she could do something like that. “How could you think that of your own sister, blah, blah”… So in the end, he apologized for being fooled, heheh. And she made him wait a long time till she sent him back his money. Love the guy. On his wedding day, when the Pastor asked him to repeat the vows after him, he said “Huh? Mo?”

The Inebriated:

L had a new girl, and he went, for the first time, to her place. He was so nervous that he drank more than he should. He decided to have a quick shower there to sober up. So he went into his girl’s bathroom, took off his clothes… and passed out!! When he didn’t emerge even after an hour, his girl called him over and over. Of course, he was way past hearing. So, his frantic girl, thinking that something bad must have happened, called her landlord, who came with his two sons, and they broke down the bathroom door. And there was my bro L, snoozing blissfully in the buff…

Then there is Tai… went with some girls to a pub, fancied one of them badly too. Maybe he was nervous, but he too had a little too much. He puked all over the girl, and to top it off, he immediately crooned Rod Stewart’s “D’you think I’m sexy?” The girl obviously didn’t. He is now permanently stuck in the “friend” category.

The Bad Boy:

How we dreaded meeting S on the streets, when he would beg, “Please, please, just a 100 bucks, ok, 50, …just 20, please, please…” Tried every intoxicant he could lay his hands on. Lost his virginity at the age of 12!! Been in more bike accidents than I can count. Accidents where his helmet was shattered, where the docs couldn’t find his pulse… One day he decided to be worried about his life.

“You know… if I keep on going like this, I think I will die soon.”

And I told him in best big sis mode, “Ahh, don’t worry. Only the good die young.”

This cheered him up immensely.

And he is sweet too. One night he was high on alcohol, weed and some other stuffs. He watched with a sloppy grin as I waxed every inch of his legs. He couldn’t wear shorts for a whole month that hot summer. And he never once got mad at me J

The Good Guy:

H is currently studying Theology. He is the good one. That time the rest of us decided to bunk the graveside ceremony of a relative’s funeral and go for a ride on Tlawng road, he was the one who vetoed the idea and dragged us all to the cemetery. But… he is kinda a rebel. He has mixed feelings about the church’s ban on pastors with tattoos, so he went and got a tattoo. And his tattoo is a beautifully lettered ISUA. And he waits eagerly to see what the church makes of that!! Hehehah!!

And F… though younger than me, he treats me like an annoying little sister. Very very fun guy. Everybody, and I mean everybody loves him. He manages to be BFFs with my friends on the first day that he meets them. And he is seriously over protective too. He glares at any guy who even glances my way. He punched his friend for kissing my sister. They are married now. My guy is one of his best friends too, and the unwritten rule is that we must not act lovey dovey when he is there. My best memory of him is the time when a group of drunk guys eve-teased me, and he stood up for me. I could see that he was shit scared, but he confronted those louts. For me. Awwwww…

Ka lung a leng. They are all scattered here and there, and half of them are married. So I rarely get to meet them. I miss the times when they would clutter up my room and talk about how many times they scored with the ladies, and how ‘cool’ they are with them. Of course, when we talk one-on-one, they tell me the truth, so I know they are not the Casanovas they pretend to be, but are actually wusses.. But I always back up their little lies because I am a good sister too!! J