Month: February 2014

A Short Story 005 : “Memma Chenkhre” (The married lady who eloped with the Bachelor)

/ Monica Ingudam / 7 Comments

“Memma Chenkhre” (The married lady who eloped with the Bachelor)

A short story by Monica Ingudam

It was the talk of the “Leikai” (community) that a married woman, mother of 5 children eloped with the handsome “Pakhang” (Bachelor). And such stories flies really fast from leikai to leikai, “Keithel” (market) to “pan dukan” (small pan shop). As I was browsing vegetables in the Keithel, I heard the story and people passing judgment, severe judgment on moral grounds, calling names to the woman “Nupa Phabi” “Oktabi” “tou-ngumbi” (woman who catches/traps guys, loose woman etc.).

They were talking about me. I got married when I was a teenager. My husband worked in a government office. I knew nothing about him before I married him but it was one of the common event of eloping on the first meeting arranged by friends on words that the guy is very good, working, from Imphal and life will be good “Nupa do yam phabani, thabak tourabani, Imphal dagine, nakhuta hamaga charani“. I grew up in a village in Manipur, life was hard with farming and Imphal sounded very attractive. We had exchanged couple of letters, unspoken shy glances on the road, prior to our first meeting which lead to the eloping event.

I got married, got pregnant almost immediately. Before the life of marriage sunk in, I was coping with this new changes in my body with morning sickness, constant emotional battle with mood swings. And my husband had worse mood swings than me besides being drunk, breaking and throwing things in the house which slowly transitioned to beating me up. And his mood swing would be triggered by anything from food not ready when he came back from work even on days he came earlier than usual to his drinking water was not warm enough. It was a constant struggle with him, finding fault in everything I did.

I had my first kid, a beautiful daughter. But he wasn’t happy. He wanted a son. Before we knew we had 5 children, a child almost every year. I was a mother of 5 children before my mid twenties. He had a voracious sexual appetite and crossed lines of dignity in getting his needs, irrespective of my health or mental condition, after beating me, in front of the kids, fingering and dragging me in front of other people to get his needs. He was rough in his ways, too rough tearing me inside out. My body took a toll with multiple child birth, satisfying his needs, his beatings and the mental trauma.

I didn’t have a place to go, not even my parents. I didn’t have any money. I saw no other ways other than to stay strong and raised my little kids who looked at me with eyes filled with fear. We grew up together, stayed a life of fear and did everything to please him. The little ones would come running shouting “Baba Lakle” (father is on his way) warning so that we can be prepared to set his food, water, clothes ready for his likings and the kids learnt to go out to the other room pretending they don’t hear anything, when he starts acting up to get his needs. And I would run and hide to escape his beatings and come back after my kids will signal that he has cooled down.

Time passed and my life took a turn after I was forced to seek work to feed the family after my husband was suspended from work. I started going out of the house to work and started earning. It was a newfound freedom, freedom to fulfill little things in life, have little surprises for my children. It gave me self esteem and I found a voice to fight back my husband. I had this confidence that I could survive without depending on my husband and surprisingly he stepped back. It’s true but financial independence can change one’s life.

Time passed, and my first daughter got married and I felt satisfied seeing my children growing up and getting independent. We had this closeness after going through so much that we could communicate through our eyes. I have crossed my forties when I met the “Pakhang” (Bachelor). Despite my situation, the age gap there was this unspoken connection from the first time we met. After being in denial, fighting myself, fighting the conflicting thoughts of society norms and moral, we fell hopelessly in love, a love which I never felt before giving me such happiness. After months of conflicting thoughts, with my first daughter speaking more with her eyes than her words “Ema, nung chatlo. Eiena loina yengshunge” (Mother you go, I will look after every thing) one evening I eloped.

My children and grand children visits me in my home, the small hut far far away from Imphal. I am looked down and spitted on by society. And I continue living my life taking one day at a time. Life is a struggle and never perfect but I am happy and at peace.

~The End~

LIFE’S THIS & THAT

MonicaIngudamCollection of short stories written by Monica Ingudam. These stories are based on Life’s this and that focusing on Manipur and the people of Manipur.

 

029 It’s all in the mind : Cold and Beautiful

/ Monica Ingudam / Leave a comment
Cold and Beautiful

There is always a price you have to pay,
One way or another for the beautiful things in life,
You would fall in love all over again and again,
Every time you see the beautiful white snow falling,
Making it irresistible,
Making you drop everything to play with it as it falls,
Giving you immense happiness in that moment,
But paying the price of the bitter cold that follows,
By now you know the pattern,
And yet, you will fall all over again willing to bear such bitter cold.

~The End~

Photograph taken today, watching the beautiful snow falling.

An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.

028 It’s all in the mind : Words

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Words

When you get a moment which you can truly call your own,
Witnessing the beauty of nature,
Bringing out life’s enchanting thoughts,
Stirred by words,
Beautiful words written for you,
Words whispered to you,
You tightly cling to it,
As they become words for your soul,
Giving light in your darkness.

~The End~

An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.

A Short Story 004 : My Three Mothers

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My Three Mothers

A short story by Monica Ingudam

I look up the sky and see birds flying. I wish I have wings to fly away and find my place where I could call Home. Growing up, I was the best dressed and pampered boy by my Father and my mother in my “Leikai” (community). I always remember my mother to be this beautiful woman, fair with neatly tight black hair, wearing beautiful red half saree over Manipuri Phanek. Our house was beautifully arranged, every thing was in place. My mother really took care of my Father and me. I remember my father waiting for me without fail outside my school, standing tall and handsome. He would treat me to “achapot” (snacks) before we go home. It was laughter, love and fun in the family. We were perfect. But even God can’t stand perfection and has to test people. My mother passed away suddenly from a mistake one of the expert doctor made in her treatment over a small ailment. I was just 7 years old then.

Life took a sharp turn. My Father was heartbroken. Everyone was whispering that he should get married. My mother’s side tried to fix my mother’s younger sister with my father and other relatives had other proposals. After a little over a year, my father remarried to a woman of his choice. I was taken to watch a movie in a theater to “distract the son” as they referred as, on the day of the wedding. It’s strange how people talk right in front of you as though you don’t exist, I was small but I remember everything. I neither felt good nor bad. I didn’t know what to expect and I went with the flow of life.

The earlier days were perfect. My step mother played the perfect doting mother. But with time, I was seemingly getting in between my father and my step mother. I didn’t understand then, now I do. They were young and newly married couple who needed their privacy but how could they have any privacy with me hovering around my Father all the time. I remember one time I woke up at night, saw my step mother sitting on top of my father, her long hair opened and I stood there stupidly, I didnt mean to watch them, I just frozed. She turned and looked angrily at me, she looked like angry Durga with big eyes and I was scared, very scared.

Events after events happened taking me further away from my Father. I was hurt, very hurt that my father didn’t see my side of the story in any of these events. He seem to be under her spell. And she is not even pretty no where near my mother. Maybe I was jealous of the attention my father gave her. She was an intruder. It was hard for me to accept her. I missed my mother and cried so much. I missed her hugs, her smell, her pampering and fussing over me to eat. I was sent away to a boarding school. That really devastated me, I was so lonely with no visitors. I tried alcohol, pills and I even put my name to join a rebel group. I was expelled from the school and was sent back.

That didn’t make my life any easier. Day and night, there was fights. My father shouting at me. He became this man I never knew, he saw fault in everything I did. I was not good enough for him, I was wasting his money and one day in anger he blurted out “I should never have adopted you”. My life didn’t need this kind of excitement, it’s my life and not a movie that needed drama. I was adopted and all these while my biological parents are alive. After lot of fights and drama it was decided that it’s best I am returned to my biological parents. I was just a commodity moved from house to house as deem fit. I was angry mostly hurt by my father’s action. My biological parents tried to make me comfortable but I was angry with them too, asking myself why they gave me away. My father and my mother couldn’t have kids and they were on the verge of separation and adopting me right after I was born saved their marriage. I see pain and regret in their eyes and we learnt to stay together catching up on lost times but I never found that connection, the connection I see my siblings having with my biological parents.

There are drama going on about property, rights, sueing etc. And I really don’t care. My father walks past me looking at the other way pretending he didn’t see me. I don’t know how his love for me was lost. We don’t talk anymore. He never had a child with his second wife. I have no hard feelings for anyone now, it was the situations. I hope my father is happy with the choices he has made. As for me, I knew 3 Mothers in my life, I crossed 30 years and yet looking for place which I can call home.

~The End~

LIFE’S THIS & THAT

MonicaIngudamCollection of short stories written by Monica Ingudam. These stories are based on Life’s this and that focusing on Manipur and the people of Manipur.

 

Morning Worship

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I have always been fascinated and love the sight of the morning worship of my mother, giving the feeling of purity. This is a very common sight in many household in Manipur (Small vessel filled with water, flowers offered with light and incense stick in the early morning before/as the sun rises)

 

A Short Story 003 : Being the Stalker

/ Monica Ingudam / Leave a comment

Being the Stalker

A short story by Monica Ingudam

Love could be a beautiful feeling if it’s both sided. The tragedy and pain comes when it’s one sided. And my story is no different. It all started harmlessly when I met him, at a time where I had self respect, maintained my sanity and could identify stupidity. And today I am reduced to a pathetic stalker, with no self respect, as I watch him smiling, dancing and partying with his Valentine hanging all over him.

I had ridiculed people when they speak of love at first sight. How could they associate such a serious pure word into something so casual, with someone they just met? I didn’t acknowledge when it happened and before I realized he overtook me like a storm, seized my capability to think and reason out. I became addicted and obsessed with him. Initially he entertained my company and was polite. But as I became more depended and literally throwing myself over him, I could see him withdrawing. And who wouldn’t ? I was suffocating him. I had this compelling feeling which made me weak and seek only for his company. I wanted to spent every minute with him. Seeing him or talking to him was never enough, I always wanted more. He was irresistible and I could drop everything what I was doing when he came to see me or called me which probably he did out of pity or probably at times he played to his advantage. But it didn’t matter to me, I played along with starry eyes.

The more he withdrew and started ignoring me, the more obsessed I became. I was totally addicted, I had to see him and hear his voice for me to function. My life was impacted drastically. I went to places, parties where I knew he will turn up, I started following his activities closely, way too closely. I started mingling with his friends, people I wouldn’t hang out normally just to hear about him. I became this low life person doing exactly the things I termed earlier as “Stupidity, what was s/he thinking ?”.

I did things that would seek his attention, created excuses and events just for a brief encounter or moment with him. I maintained a shrine of the things he said, things he liked, everything about him. I even went into a phase of low esteem analyzing the rejection. Days became months and it came to a point where he no longer wanted to meet me and finally blocked my calls and message systematically. That hit me really hard and struck to me that I have become a stalker. I had cried enough wetting my pillow, gazed at his pictures endlessly, spent countless days lovesick, just lying on my bed thinking about him without any urge to eat or do anything else. And I see myself falling and destroying my health and life. It’s time to move on before I loose my sanity. He taught me what it is to feel love and now I know how it feels. I don’t blame him for not loving me back. I now understand that love just happens, totally unplanned and beyond anyone’s control.

~The End~

LIFE’S THIS & THAT

MonicaIngudamCollection of short stories written by Monica Ingudam. These stories are based on Life’s this and that focusing on Manipur and the people of Manipur.

 

In times of Conflict, No one can take our spirit away, Spread the love on Valentine’s Day 2014

/ Monica Ingudam / Leave a comment

Valentine‘s Day was associated more with romantic love, it’s celebrated now by all even small kids in preschool and kindergarten making cards for everyone in the class, for the teachers, for parents, friends and now it’s all about LOVE and your SPIRIT. Celebrating Valentine’s Day in the midst of all the conflict, discrimination and crimes faced by our people, it’s our way of saying “Even in time of Conflict, No one can take our spirit away”

Spread the love on Valentine’s Day 2014.

Inspired by Paradise Road, a strong movie showing the amazing strength and courage in woman surviving hardships and emerging as survivors. The group of women from different countries and social levels are prisoners in a Japanese POW camp,, organizes a vocal band in spite of their guards resistance and a way to bring a smile during those conflicting time. The power of music kept them together during such hard times of war and go through the conflicting phase.

Thanks everyone for contributing to this Album and participating in spreading the love.

In the woods, far away from the din of crowded human settlements, where the air is claimed by smog, the rooms and fronts occupied by plastic plants, it stood swaying above the dark green healthy leaves. The tall trees around it had their branches over it, as though they had grown at the attempts to view the beauty, just like a giraffe’s neck at the attempts to get food. Who wouldn’t stop by to admire you, who wouldn’t be dazzled, you are called beauty, which can soothe an aching heart, clear a muddled mind and blurred eyes. You need not leave your place, you don’t ask for their attention, you are you, the beautiful you. A photograph by Bobo Meitei
I see this beautiful peas flower blooming in my Mother’s garden and I think of you, so simple, beautiful, local and delicate just like you. A photograph by Bimal Thongam
I may be small and tiny but jewelers in Manipur designed earrings on our look. You will see me blooming bringing smile to many and even worn by beautiful people of Manipur as earring design. Do you know my name? A photograph by Bimal Thongam.
People fight with their own feelings making them drown fighting the unstoppable current. Why not go with the flow and see the fate ? Do you always have to carve the path yourself ? A photograph by Bimal Thongam
Khagileihao angangba, this flower was a gift from Chinese King(China was called Khagi during those days) to King Khagemba of Manipur for defeating and killing of their notorious army general Maidana. It’s a symbol of friendship and also a highly valued medicinal plant. A photograph by Ronald Meitei
I am not a writer and I am not a poet, if you could just look at me and feel what I am feeling, you will put all the words to shame. A photograph by Bimal Thongam
We are so different, we don’t agree on anything making each other mad and angry. And yet we are incomplete without each other. Do you call this love? A photograph by Bimal Thongam
When you find beauty even in the midst of her tantrums and anger, you know love is still in the air. And you surrender with a beautiful red flower to make up for peace even when you are right making her right. A photograph by Bimal Thongam
Though #Valentine’s Day was associated more with romantic love, it’s celebrated by all even small kids in preschool and kindergarten making cards for everyone in the class, for the teachers, for parents and now it’s all about #love. A photograph by Bimal Thongam
Red Red roses ready at the florist. Maybe it’s to surprise your special someone or maybe to make up. Be sure she likes roses. A photograph by Bobo Meitei
A beautiful picture from Yaisana Huidrom dedicating to Findingthevoices and all listeners and viewers. Thanks everyone for your participation and making Findingthevoices your platform. it’s important to find small things in life to keep our spirits high in the midst of all the conflicts we see everyday. Thank you. A photograph by Yaisana Huidrom
Red flower catching your attention energizing you as you walk by and why not, Red is the color of energy, passion and action. A photograph by Bobo Meitei
Between living with love and burdening yourself with hate, I choose love (though hate could be very tempting!) A photograph by Wahengbam Sagar.
Don’t fall in Love with someone who says right things,fall in love with someone who does the right things. Contributed by Rebeck Loutongbam
“Learning to hate what I love” to which I replied ” I would rather be hated for who I am, instead of being loved for who I am not, for who you want me to become” A photograph by Ronald Meitei
In #love you do things termed as “Foolish and lacking judgment” and asked “What were you thinking ?” by people who have never been in love. But you don’t think when you are in love. A photograph by Ronald Meitei
A beautiful red flower blooming somewhere in Manipur. Do you know the name of this flower ? A photograph by Priyojit Akoijam
Life with me is not going to be smooth, accept me with all my thorns. A photograph by Priyojit Akoijam
Be bold and speak up for what you feel. When it’s not in your upbringing to be expressive of your feelings, and is awkward to speak openly with your immediate family in matters of the heart, how could you be bold ? A photograph by Thiyam General
Red kalanchoe flower somewhere at Kakching in Manipur. RED color sparkling the love making you stop to click such a beautiful flower. With Valentine’s day coming up, lets have red flower theme for picture of the day. Mobile Photography by Rebeck Loutongbam

Happy Valentine’s Day 2014

/ Monica Ingudam / Leave a comment

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Happy Valentine’s Day 2014.

Valentine‘s Day was associated more with romantic love, it’s celebrated now by all even small kids in preschool and kindergarten making cards for everyone in the class, for the teachers, for parents, friends and now it’s all about LOVE and your SPIRIT. Celebrating Valentine’s Day in the midst of all the conflict, discrimination and crimes faced by our people, it’s our way of saying “Even in time of Conflict, No one can take our spirit away”

Spread the love on Valentine’s Day 2014.

Inspired by Paradise Road, a strong movie showing the amazing strength and courage in woman surviving hardships and emerging as survivors. The group of women from different countries and social levels are prisoners in a Japanese POW camp,, organizes a vocal band in spite of their guards resistance and a way to bring a smile during those conflicting time. The power of music kept them together during such hard times of war and go through the conflicting phase.

Check out the Album of pictures and words contributed by listeners and viewers of FindingTheVoices. Thanks everyone for contributing to this Album and participating in spreading the love.

A Short Story 002 : Lyrics only for her

/ Monica Ingudam / Leave a comment
Lyrics only for her
A short story by Monica Ingudam

I was young and she was my first love. Her beauty, her innocence and her smile captured my heart from the moment I saw her for the first time as she walked with her hair flowing in the land of Manipur. I felt the world of love, heard my own heart beat with her reciprocating my feelings. It didn’t matter where we were as long as we were together. Such beautiful feelings and joyous moments to last a lifetime.

I saw her and our love only. My family came to know about my feelings for her. My parents saw her family and status. She was poor and her father is mentally imbalance and they were dead against this relationship. It broke my heart but I was not strong to fight back. I was young, and didn’t know how to handle the situation with my mother wailing. Words reached her or so my mother made sure it reached her, she didn’t take the rejections well. She was hurt and heartbroken. So was I, but nothing that I said would make her alright. Pride and ego could be a strong wall in matters of the heart. She couldn’t get over the things my family said about her father. The long distance didn’t help the relationship and we became more and more distant. I was studying outside Manipur to become a Doctor.

I missed her, her voice, her smile and felt this emptiness and heaviness in my heart, such strong feelings of extreme pain having the same intensity to the love I felt. I wrote to her many times but I was left heartbroken with her not replying to any of my letter (this is before the time of mobile phones). During my final year, I heard that she eloped as a 2nd wife to an older man of high power. The man who helped her to get a job in a government office in an administrative department. I knew deep in my heart it must have been a forced elopement. She couldn’t have loved that old guy with dirty looks, filled only with lust for her. People say man don’t cry but I cried like a child that night and many nights, cried with flames burning my heart. But then I did nothing, nothing to stop it and at times think if I could have done something, anything.

Time went by and I kept myself so busy with my work as a Doctor. I got married to a wonderful lady of my choice (which my parents didn’t approve as she is out of our community, but I didn’t care and I found the strength to do what I wanted) and raised our beautiful children. I am a grand father now and I love my family. But I never really did get over my first love. We have parallel lives but it stayed with me. We never spoke but I saw her one day by chance, couldn’t help watching her from far, in the crowded “Ema Keithel” market with her daughter. It pained me to see that her smile is gone, replaced with a serious look, with lines of wrinkles on her face, a very different picture than what I saw earlier but still a beautiful dignified lady. I hear that she has a hard life, not looked by her husband and she struggles to run her house raising her daughter all alone.

I have the perfect family but somewhere there is a void giving me sleepless nights. To fill the void, I have taken to writing and as words trickles from my pen it’s her I see and I have words and lyrics only for her.

~The End~

LIFE’S THIS & THAT

MonicaIngudamCollection of short stories written by Monica Ingudam. These stories are based on Life’s this and that focusing on Manipur and the people of Manipur.