Dr. Atola Longkumer
Bangalore
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race. I have kept the faith.”
These words from the scriptures are the words that my brother Dr. Imkongkumzük Longkümer (Akum for us, Imkong to most of his friends) wanted to tell his life’s short journey this side of eternity. Strangely, as if receiving a clairvoyant premonition, my brother has lived a life as though in a race, striving for his goals. And he has finished the race, just short of scoring four decades on this side of life. Last winter, on a cold wintry night, my brother produced a sudden invite without R.S.V.P. to family and friends. The spirits he pursued, got the better of him, his heart gave up on him, and warmed by the dying embers of the hearth, his body went cold, and slipped into the other side of this life. Swift and sudden his homegoing invite was, bringing much grief and tears to his loving wife and our mother and family and friends.
A Mokokchung boy, Queen Mary’s alumnus, whose love for hometown surpassed his bonhomie in the mainland for most of his life, my brother loved a good life. A good life was one where he could roam the forests of the ancestors, share a drink too many with friends, banter with nieces and nephews, protest and argue with siblings, just to be the helpful brother in the next moment, help anyone in need, and work like a horse in pursuit of the good life. Trying to fix the b/w TV so that younger sister and he could watch the Hindi serial; biking a bicycle on the Mokokchung-Mariani road, just to show off his skills to grandparents; overpowered with the spirits he pursued leaving the car unattended, yet, a loyal friend quick to host a friend, this was my brother, who pained us and made us proud in equal measure.
New Delhi was his second home, secondary schooling and university brought him in contact with friends from the mainland. My brother loved company and community, and JNU and its robust campus life provided him ample opportunities. Sharing chai on Ganga Dhaba, fish meal at the Library Canteen are fond memories of visits with him while passing through Delhi. There was a caveat of meeting him, being prepared to do some reading while waiting for him. For his dissertation, he tackled a complex topic, but his determination and support of his advisor saw him complete and defend his argument successfully.
Akum was a friend and brother to all who crossed his path. Among all of us siblings, Imkong spoke the best Hindi, his Hindi was so good that he was lovingly known as “Naga Bihari.” Apart from this, he could do the variety oftonal dialects of the local language, and he cleared the academic requirements for research both Persian and Russian. His language abilities were matched by his ability to bond with friends across diverse sections. My parents’ home had the privilege of hosting young visitors from different parts of the Northeast as well as the mainland. One of our shared memories is having his friend from Assam, stay with us having very Ao Naga food.With his many human limitations, my brother was one with a heart ever willing to love and help and share his best. Named after an ancestor, his name Imkongkumzük literally meant, “all saved” and in many ways, he lived up to his name, for he was a friend to all – a school dropout, as well as a bureaucrat or a college student or a childhood neighbor – were all equal to him.
This brother of mine, has hung up his boots too early and left us with only memories and the wife he loved. Proud as I am for who he was, I live with regret, that in my busy-ness, I didn’t call him last Christmas, the last Christmas for him. But, I hasten to recall his generosity in our last meeting, just a few months before he went home, a packet of home-smoked eel and a box of homemade cookies from him and his wife. In Bangalore, I relished these for long, the last gift from a brother, who gave so much in his lifetime. This Christmas, and for always, I will miss him, but I am comforted that he is smiling his beautiful smile, somewhere, where God is and singing the words of the Psalm 23, rendered in a hymn by Henry Baker, titled, The King of Love my Shepherd is:
The King of love my shepherd is,
whose goodness faileth never.
I nothing lack if I am his,
and he is mine forever.
Where streams of living water flow,
my ransomed soul he leadeth;
and where the verdant pastures grow,
with food celestial feedeth.
Perverse and foolish, oft I strayed,
but yet in love he sought me;
and on his shoulder gently laid,
and home, rejoicing, brought me.
In death's dark vale I fear no ill,
with thee, dear Lord, beside me;
thy rod and staff my comfort still,
thy cross before to guide me.
Thou spreadst a table in my sight;
thy unction grace bestoweth;
and oh, what transport of delight
from thy pure chalice floweth!
And so through all the length of days,
thy goodness faileth never;
Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise
within thy house forever.
