'You are not allowed to drink rice beer as Christians. It makes you do bad things that God does not want you to do...' Ashang listened to the sermon of the Christian Missionary with a strange kind of disturbed attentiveness. He had a notion that the missionary must be talking about some irresponsible drunkard as he was unable to recall any bad things he had done in his whole life because of drinking rice beer. He went home in-convinced and decided to postpone his earlier resolve to get himself baptized and convert to Christianity.

 

Holding a huge bamboo mug filled with rice beer, Ashang sat by the fire sipping the content talking to his wife (Phanitla) about the missionary's strange teaching.

 

Ashang: How can he say eating food is bad? My parents drink rice beer, their parents drink rice beer and we drink rice beer to give us strength to live. Can you think of living without it? Have I ever fought with anyone after drinking? Have I ever raised my voice on you after drinking?

 

Phanitla: No.

 

Ashang: Then why should I give up rice beer? I can't imagine living life drinking only water. And I don't like the taste of water where they add something called sugar to boiled water. Let my children decide for themselves, for me I'll not convert. As for you, you are free to decide. But, I suggest you also don't convert.

 

Phanitla: I don't know.. But, what if the whole village gets converted?

 

Ashang: Let them convert. The missionary was also saying something about singing folk songs. Once converted, people are not supposed to sing folk songs. Only heaven knows why?

Looking at the logs burning into live charcoal and then to ashes in the hearth, Ashang realized how life has changed so much in a matter of decades. When he was a child there were no coins, people just use to exchange things, but now people use only coins. He remembered the times when his father took him along for hunting and bird trapping. He often dream of the days when the whole village feasted when his father erected those wooden totems and huge stone slabs outside his house. The wooden totems have gathered moss over the years but still stand as strong as the stones.

 

He requested his wife to refill his bamboo mug and to give him his tingteila (Harp). Somewhere in his heart he knew his children would never know what was the past like. It pains him thinking how the future would be like for his children. A faint smile lit up his wrinkled face when he consoled himself that he would be meeting his parents again in Kazeiram (Kingdom of the dead) after death.

 

Ashang looked at his wife and said "When I die bury me in the family grave along with my bamboo mug, spear, dao, and harp." Not knowing what to reply, his wife answered "When are you going to die?" and suddenly realized the oddness of the words. Without waiting for further interjection from his wife, Ashang asked her "It must have been tough for you living with me all these years right? Do you still love me as you used to?" His wife just replied, "You're becoming sillier everyday" and giggled.

 

Ashang tuned his tingteila and started singing the folk song of how a man went to Kazeiram (Kingdom of the dead) and brought back his dead wife. The last logs in the fire were burning out and Ashang pointed to the few logs and told his wife that they are like the last logs in the fire burning away so quickly. If live coal are found among the ashes in the morning, a new fire would be lit out of it, else some live coal would be fetched from the neighbors. He can cover the burning coal with load of ashes to ensure some coals are found in the morning. However, he can't hide his children and grand children from the many changes that are happening around too quickly. He knew he would be buried along with his tingteila, bamboo mug, spear and dao but beyond that he was not able to foresee whether his children and grand children would sing the song that he used to sing, hunt like he did and drink rice beer as he and his forefathers did. To be continued...

 

Note: The advent of Christianity has totally changed the Tangkhul Naga's way of life. Many things have been forcefully buried. This post is a tribute to my grandfather who lived and died without giving into the wave of Christianity.