Imnasenla Pongener
“As a Naga and a Christian, we should all take a leap of faith in ourselves and what we are capable of, and uplift the corrupted image of our land to a
higher ground.”
With much deliberation of thought on what I should give away on my journey of 16 years being away from home (minus the months of different vacations), I figured it would be fair to give equal relevance to the very beginning for being who and where I am today. When I was told I’d be sent away to Shillong, famously called ‘abode of the clouds,’ I was ecstatic. Being a student of 4th grade, I was expected to wail and howl as the other kids. I did neither of both. The first hostel that I was admitted in was like a military regiment with strict rules: had to have a particular set of underwear, socks, etc., wearing gumboots was a must on rainy days (which most of us were embarrassed about), had to finish the first serving, “sharing” was imparted to us that we even shared a packet of wai-wai among the 24 or so hostel mates. Meals were expected to be eaten in complete silence that day-scholars would tell us that whenever they crossed our hostel all they would hear was the clinking and clanking of spoons and forks on the plate, and during study hours we were to have our nose buried under our books.
That was how I lived my high school. Looking back, I feel blessed and fortunate to have stayed in a hostel that taught innumerable ways of discipline and to have received a convent education. Having said all that, the green environment and especially the well-laid roads were a treat because every time I came home the roads were always the one thing I noticed. A car wouldn’t last long when driven on the roads of Nagaland. Potholes seemed to be the new development every time. On the way home from the station, Dad would always answer my irritation saying that money is no doubt given by the government for the making but it gets lost along the way for the development of “pakka” roads.
Another thing I always found myself comparing was how students didn’t seem to have uniformity here in Nagaland. I was used to the discipline of particular length of uniform skirts, no nail polish (not even the transparent ones), no eye make-up, neat hair, no fashionable earrings, etc, which made us feel like we belonged to a particular school/institution and for which I was really proud being a part of. But I always seemed to come up with “maybe(s)” and so I reasoned that maybe it was the environment. No doubt there were whole lot of other issues far more important to look out for but I thought if the very foundation on what we walk on is full of potholes, then what was one to expect of the authorities responsible.
Then, Delhi was the place where I graduated and also the place that taught me to fend for myself. My dearest Dad, however, still regrets my stay there. He’s been always alert on his toes whenever he read about mishaps that befell someone from North East. Over time, the place has somehow been termed as the capital city of crime, and parents who have children staying in the capital have every reason to abhor the environment there. The first 4-5 pages of Times of India (TOI) or Hindustan Times (HT) would be full of crime stories. Putting myself in their shoes, I can reason with them on that ground. It’s not that mishaps happen only to those from NE, but the problem is that, on personal observation, issues that happen to our kind is usually suppressed in national media.
It’s not just the years of student life that have given me an insight of what people know about the Nagas and Nagaland but also through the many interviews I appeared for work as well as admissions into colleges. What I was asked almost every time was about Insurgency. Is that the only word that one could relate to when thought of Nagaland? Yes, our history says it all but wouldn’t it be fair to say that now with the passage of time, there has been developments that people should talk and ask about other than insurgency. Could it be that people have access to only that kind of news about us? It would take a lot but it has to start somewhere to help others learn about our richness of our culture. As a Naga and a Christian, we should all take a leap of faith in ourselves and what we are capable of, and uplift the corrupted image of our land to a higher ground.
I once remember being told that Nagas outside Nagaland are more “Naga” in their outlook than those living back home. I wondered why the person said that and regret I hadn’t asked him his reason. What I could conclude was maybe people living here were so used to being a Naga that the roots weren’t celebrated with as much pride than by those who lived away from home. The identity of being a Naga is carried with pride and showcased through unity which is much appreciated and looked up to by others. It is through conviction of our being from a rich community like ours that the sanctity of our culture be proudly worn.
Well, that’s much about it. If I had to put the whole 16 years in celluloid, it would have had a lot more humor but I hope this little bits and pieces of past reflection gives an idea of what the world outside Nagaland is like from a student’s eye.
The writer is pursuing her Masters in Communication from University of Hyderabad and is currently doing her summer internship at The Morung
Express.
