It was an astonishing sight to see the smart informed agricultural scientist at home transformed into a dull, gossipy layabout at work. There we were Biki and I, waiting for our ride to Andro our next phase in our quest for Manipuri rice. Our pick up is late and never have I ever sat through a more excruciating three hours as Imasi played down her brilliance in front of her colleagues. Was it because she was a woman? Just the way work environments have become in this dreary place? Perhaps because they have all had to hide out in back avoiding unwelcome drop-ins from separatists?

On the ride out, she perked up like a wilting plant after being watered. Her colleagues aren’t half bad too with their agricultural knowledge. So there is perhaps a conspired dullness after all.

The land is spectacularly beautiful. We left with Ching Chahou Amubi, Ching Chahou Angangbi and 2 others. The rest all stocked up on some of the famed local hooch.

Peak moment: the old toothless farmer says to me: “Young man, tell me, for I have always wondered, are Americans Indians or Manipuris?”

We make and inhabit our worlds. Who is to say which is best? The periphery is the core.

The boys finally got their act together. The baseball game took place at Samusang Lampak, right next to Tamo Ratan’s Shrine. (Dig that name, hee hee)

The guys forgot I was videotaping them and really got into the game. These jocks. All the same same. Much better to hang out with than the arty types.

Hope Mike and I can do something with baseball. I told her Manipur is the only place where the game can flourish, with a bit of help. We want to make a film. Nat Geo? Must talk to Jenny when I get back.

Shall we call then the Manipuri Hillbillies? Mike likes the Manipuri Mets. Such a diehard.

What am I to make of “The Rose of Lidice”? Tamo Nara invited us to the latest production of the courtyard theater troupe that did the 9/11 play. It was in the dirty and depressing Chi'nga shopping mall. What idiot thought of leveling the hill for this abomination?

We were there early so go to hang out with some of the actors. I was grilled about the troupe’s prospects in NYC. Oy vey.

The play is set in Czechoslovakia in 1942. Tamo Nara had evidently written a poem, his communist soul stirred by the children who brought him flowers when he visited Lidice with his comrades way back when there was still a Berlin Wall. So was the troupe sucking up to him by putting on this play? Is it how collaboration actually works? After all the Minister of Culture is a poet. Who knows, and what does it matter?

So their ballet was stolen from a film of Anna Pavlova Tamo Nara had. The heroines' names were Milky and Silky – and those you can’t steal from anywhere. And the Hitler was the most hilarious caricature since Chaplin. They must have seen The Great Dictator: the scene with Hitler contemplating the globe would be too scary a coincidence.

It is wonderful to see something that confounds all aesthetic standards. How lazy and conformist the cultural tastemakers truly are!

What am I to make of “The Rose of Lidice”? Tamo Nara invited us to the latest production of the courtyard theater troupe that did the 9/11 play. It was in the dirty and depressing Chi'nga shopping mall. What idiot thought of leveling the hill for this abomination?

We were there early so go to hang out with some of the actors. I was grilled about the troupe’s prospects in NYC. Oy vey.

The play is set in Czechoslovakia in 1942. Tamo Nara had evidently written a poem, his communist soul stirred by the children who brought him flowers when he visited Lidice with his comrades way back when there was still a Berlin Wall. So was the troupe sucking up to him by putting on this play? Is it how collaboration actually works? After all the Minister of Culture is a poet. Who knows, and what does it matter?

Ima talked about fashion this morning. I videotaped her, making sure we closed all the doors so that only the roosters crowing at 4 AM came through on the soundtrack. Aural ambiance I say. We have to finish this in an hour before the milkmaid comes, yelling for attention. Her mother was the milkmaid before her and remembers me as a child. Ima is very fond of the young milkmaid and gives her cosmetics!

The fashion show we went to the other day was what started this discussion. She turned out to be the Chief Guest – how she longs to be just an invitee without have this status conferred on her! She says it makes it impossible to leave early when she is tired or has had enough. The show was interminable but what a hoot. Runway and all. And some gorgeous models, sashaying down the little catwalk like supermodels. Global TV has done its job! Ima’s admonitions about the incorporations of Manipuri traditional fashion into the new struck chords from all the applause it gathered. She thinks baring navel is fine, but why do phaneks have to be worn low when they ride up at the back of the heels, obscuring the embroidered border, she asked?

I too, it must be noted, had my day on TV then of course. Mr. Somi from NYC giving the younger generations POV. I had to stop myself from giggling when I answered that Manipuri models are JUST as fine as New York’s best! Got much applause and call from TV watchers the next day.

Anyway, Ima’s memories of popularizing Moirang Phee borders, so ubiquitous now, as well as that infernal sari Phee'in makes her a progenitor if current fashion. Who would have guessed? I knew the drag actresses follow her fashions sense. But would the average dowdy salarywoman in Sari Phee'in attire know who had started it all?

Tamo Joykumar came with three renditions of Phou Woibee. He wrote RICE QUEEN in English as well. Ami I naughty or what! Hee hee.

I don’t know which I like better: the young pretty rendition or the older one with the broader more Meitei looking nose. The writing is cockeyed. I think it adds charm to the logo.

Tamo Nara invites me to the show for the Governor and his daughter. I went because I wanted to see the new rehearsal hall that Tamo Ratan designed. (Exterior hokey, interior great but not insulated enough)

So Arvind Dave, the military spook appointed Governor in the usual manner of New Delhi, asks me about the elections in the US. He knows and cares since his daughter lives there. I sadly admitted I thought Bush would win. (Go Howard!) “Americans are stupid.” He says to much sycophantic laughter and walks away. I was so shocked at his rudeness. Uncouth and condescending behavior and the facile banality of his observation is not surprising from an army man governing a populace that despises him.

Tamo Nara invites me to the show for the Governor and his daughter. I went because I wanted to see the new rehearsal hall that Tamo Ratan designed. (Exterior hokey, interior great but not insulated enough)

So Arvind Dave, the military spook appointed Governor in the usual manner of New Delhi, asks me about the elections in the US. He knows and cares since his daughter lives there. I sadly admitted I thought Bush would win. (Go Howard!) “Americans are stupid.” He says to much sycophantic laughter and walks away. I was so shocked at his rudeness. Uncouth and condescending behavior and the facile banality of his observation is not surprising from an army man governing a populace that despises him.

FARMING CULTURE: Biki and I go went out to Ka’ Gokulmani’s jobsite at Senapati. The tea-estate is called Hembung. Very impressive set-up that belongs to some former minister of agriculture. Looks like he is getting some major money from grantmakers all over. Not sure how serious he is about tea or whether this is more a pretty front for a grant cash cow.

The tea garden wasn’t as pretty as the flower garden. Not looked after terribly well, to my untrained eye. Supposed to stop slash and burn and turn the hapless peasants onto a cash crop etc etc.

Pity it is Assam tea when all the guy could have done was get seeds locally for a unique local product. And some local pride dammit!

Anyway, Ka’Gokulmani will get me some tea from Tamenglong and let’s see what I can do when I get back to NYC. I will send some to Les. He liked the Tamenglong tea I sent him in 2000. Getting some stick insects in return seemed fair trade. Poor Sticky and Jessica. Dead, dead, dead. Hope they are Canadian bugs and not tropical for I put them through some Christian rites. Though Dee and I got Sticky to the Blessing of the Animals at St John’s. The bishop goes, Bless you, Sticky, and all who love you. I think he was the only bug officially blessed, not counting the riff-raff who stowed away on some animal there, or some humans too for that matter from the looks of some of them. Hee. Jessica lies in the Biblical Garden, strewn there along with BVD’s ashes. I hope Barbara and Jessica are playing harp together just fine up there.

But I digress. Tea. Yum.

Biki and I go went out to Ka’ Gokulmani’s jobsite at Senapati. The tea-estate is called Hembung. Very impressive set-up that belongs to some former minister of agriculture. Looks like he is getting some major money from grantmakers all over. Not sure how serious he is about tea or whether this is more a pretty front for a grant cash cow.

The tea garden wasn’t as pretty as the flower garden. Not looked after terribly well, to my untrained eye. Supposed to stop slash and burn and turn the hapless peasants onto a cash crop etc etc.

Pity it is Assam tea when all the guy could have done was get seeds locally for a unique local product. And some local pride dammit!

Anyway, Ka’Gokulmani will get me some tea from Tamenglong and let’s see what I can do when I get back to NYC. I will send some to Les. He liked the Tamenglong tea I sent him in 2000. Getting some stick insects in return seemed fair trade. Poor Sticky and Jessica. Dead, dead, dead. Hope they are Canadian bugs and not tropical for I put them through some Christian rites. Though Dee and I got Sticky to the Blessing of the Animals at St John’s. The bishop goes, Bless you, Sticky, and all who love you. I think he was the only bug officially blessed, not counting the riff-raff who stowed away on some animal there, or some humans too for that matter from the looks of some of them. Hee. Jessica lies in the Biblical Garden, strewn there along with BVD’s ashes. I hope Barbara and Jessica are playing harp together just fine up there.

But I digress. Tea. Yum.

FARMING CULTURE: I remember meeting Biki on my first trip back to Manipur from NYC. Was that 1985? He was the only guy I met who had actually produced something. He showed me his farm where he made concrete posts. Everyone else seems to leech on memory, bureaucracy, and corruption.

I am glad we had that long heart to heart in Brooklyn last fall. He will be a terrific guy to work with. I like his school idea and offer to give him suggestions and contact on how to realize his dream of an online school. He says he wont work on it if I don’t work with him. I am touched.

Biki can make things happen. He is smart and I am sure his training in linguistics and literature is finding a novel use in his farming!

I remember meeting Biki on my first trip back to Manipur from NYC. Was that 1985? He was the only guy I met who had actually produced something. He showed me his farm where he made concrete posts. Everyone else seems to leech on memory, bureaucracy, and corruption.

I am glad we had that long heart to heart in Brooklyn last fall. He will be a terrific guy to work with. I like his school idea and offer to give him suggestions and contact on how to realize his dream of an online school. He says he wont work on it if I don’t work with him. I am touched.

Biki can make things happen. He is smart and I am sure his training in linguistics and literature is finding a novel use in his farming!