Al Ngullie
You gotta try it, people, mornings at 6:00 am is beautiful – especially for sleeping. Anyway, I woke up at around 6:15 by virtue that some overloaded truck had spluttered and gasped to a stop, meters away from my residence. Man, when in repair, trucks sure create one hell of noise enough to force your earwax out, don’t they? As if nagging mothers and feisty alarm clocks aren’t enough. Anyway the roaring and gasping of the monstrosity in repair woke me up. The sun smiled like never before and the feisty chorus of early birds filled the air; Just the perfect day! So I slept off again.
Waking an hour or so later, I proceeded to hustle up breakfast. My cooking is always a matter of great social concern in my family for the fact that you are in for a whole dose of gastritis, not to mention a half-burnt kitchen distributing free smoke to my immediate neighbors. Nevertheless I am adventure-loving and for the thousandth time, I embarked on the highly undignified task of burning down the kitchen again. So much for food.
The factional clashes in Zunheboto had left most Dimapurians staring in that same ugly, bloody face of pre-ceasefire Nagaland. That morning, apart from the excitement of coughing and spluttering up smoke from my burning omlette, one event I was looking forward to, was attending the meeting of frontline social organizations, convened by the Naga Council Dimapur to deliberate on the ready, crouching threat of clashes between the two NSCNs –one determined to hold on and the other to take control of it. Both had made it clear in the media that Dimapur, the meeting point of the Naga people would somehow be a deciding point for control.
By 1:00 afternoon, after necessary chores at home (Mom’s in Kohima) I washed and got ready to leave. It was a pleasant day, breezy and soft – thanks to a three-day early monsoon downpour. Too bad it would go unappreciated for the rest of the day. Why? Read on.
The sun was starting to smarten up. I walked all the way to the airport junction, two blocks away and commenced waiting for an auto rickshaw to turn up. Strange, so few autos it seemed then and the ones that turned up didn’t stop for passengers. Particularly in a city like Dimapur, auto scarcity is as rare as Atal Bihari Vajpayee delivering a 15 minute speech. Feeling a bit perplexed, but unworried since the meeting was scheduled at 3:00pm and I was two hours ahead. I keep waiting, maybe an auto would turn up minutes later. I had no inkling the wait would last for about an hour.
It was only around 2:05 pm that an auto rickshaw, with passengers spilling out like Bramhaputra River on Amphetamine, screeched to a stop. Drenched and stinking like Bihar’s famed local onions, I can get on with my job, finally! At the Flyover Auto-stand down-town, only a few autos could be seen; those ones available were not town trip-carriers but liners. I wondered my eyes out of their sockets why auto rickshaw scarcity has hit so suddenly. Then I was told the DADU (Dimapur Auto rickshaw Drivers Union) elections for a new president were one for the day. Oh, NOT AGAIN!! The only expression that escaped my lips was an exasperated silence. The DADU elections was supposed to have been conducted some weeks back but was postponed due to some obvious exploitation of our beloved democratic system, by shady voters. The earlier scheduled Election Day had also proved much hardship to the public and now this as well! Now as usual we the commuting citizens were at the receiving end.
Anyway, finding an auto that would take me to the Naga Council’s office proved to be a Herculean task, as I found out about 30 minutes later. None was willing to, since the election-venue was towards where I was headed. The drivers were not willing to take a chance at being penalized for violating the union’s directive to keep autos off-road during the Elections. With no option but to walk, I walked two blocks away.
After roasting my skin black, wrung every sweat pore available on my body and spraining my right calf walking in the head-frying Dimapur Summer heat, I reached Breeze Restaurant, in the vicinity of which the office is located. I’d never been to the Naga Council’s office and I began looking for a signboard or perhaps a cluster of vehicles to indicate the venue of the high-profile meeting; in vain, that too. Leaving home two hours early had now left me about 47 minutes late for the meeting thanks to the DADU’s elections…and walking and waiting and walking and waiting and another bout of walking. So finally, at my wits end, I rang up my office administrator and enquired on the exact location of the office. Well, she informed me another reporter has been dispatched for the meeting and that I can return to the office. Ok, I have never tasted plastic or other inedible items but at that moment I thought the telephone looked tasty enough to be chomped and crunched into a thousand pieces.
Wearied, bushed and half-fried and burnt, I retuned to office. About a kilometer away. Walking. Again.
