ERIN: I will continue sending you thoughts as they rise to the surface. Not only because they might be interesting to you, but becuase it will keep me in touch with Manipur.
I realized, as I wrote an email to Kanhailal (which I copied you on) that in "real India" I am often treated, as a foreigner, with either too much respect and deference, or with too much unfounded contempt. In other words, I'm very rarely treated as an individual, but usually as an AMERICAN.
I didn't find that to be true in Manipur. Or maybe it's just not true among the people you introduced us to. But I never felt that people were being obsequieous. Nor did I feel that they were dismissing me automatically. In
other words, there is a cultural self-confidence in Manipur that allows the people I met to treat me in a real way. That's another palpable aspect of the trip that I've only just begun to be able to articulate.
By the way, Leila loves her phanek. She has ben wearing it around the house non-stop and announcing that she's on her way to a wedding.
I just read the note Arambam included with the pack of Cds he gave me: the note says that he was expecting me to come ot his house, so we may have screwed up. If we did, will you appologize to him -- I don't want him to think I stood him up.
And: I also thought it would make an interesting article to talk about the connection between Kanhailal's Darupadi, a one-woman show about women in Manipur that was scheuled to premiere last July and was postponed because of thedemonstration of the naked women in front of Kangla, and the demonstration itself. However, to do that I would need footage of the women's demonstration, and of Daupadi, and I would need a co-writer who saw the events live. What do you think?
Last, there are still a few things I managed to not bring back with me, that I'd love to have if there is room in your suitcase and time for you to pick them up:
Lengshonnei video
Draupadi video
video of women's protest in front of Kangla
Premchand's ANTIGONE
videos of World Trade Center and Rose of Lidice
book on Manipuri language by Khelchandra
there's a novel that Lancha was suggesting I read, but I don't know the
title (he said it's in English).
Rase's email address
tape of China Rose if possible.
I've been listening to Dave's tape -- it often sounds like Hong Kong rock to me. Interesting. Again, often bears absoleutely no resemblance to Mainland music. By the way: another perception of Manipur: Leila doesn't recognize
Dave's music as Indian. I am fascinated by this, becuase it proves the musical differences. So when I put on Dave's tape, she loves it, but she insists it isn't Indian. When she wants to hear Indian music she insists on Hindi film
songs. I haven't been able to convince her that Dave's tape is also from Inida. But obviously she is correct: in the sense that Manipur is not part of India. So: from the mouths of babes.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
ERIN: Dear Kanhailal, Sabitri, and members of Kalakshetra,
I was so invigorated by our exchange of ideas and exercises, and had such fun working with all of you. It was the highlight of my trip to Manipur.
Sabitri, I was so moved by your performance: particularly by the lullabye you sang, and by the moment it turned into a mourning lament (reminding me of a terrible moment several years ago when I thought my own daughter
was dying). You are an extraordinarily powerful and evocative performer. I continue to be "haunted" (in the best sense) by your performance, and will never forget it.
I was so invigorated by our exchange of ideas and exercises, and had such fun working with all of you. It was the highlight of my trip to Manipur.
Sabitri, I was so moved by your performance: particularly by the lullabye you sang, and by the moment it turned into a mourning lament (reminding me of a terrible moment several years ago when I thought my own daughter
was dying). You are an extraordinarily powerful and evocative performer. I continue to be "haunted" (in the best sense) by your performance, and will never forget it.
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Evening: DANCE PRESENTATION FOR KOLKATA CHOREOGRAPHERS
Priti hosts Yoshiko and Bonnie’s meet with some choreographers in Kolkata. It is at her lovely run-down dance center. Very “Music Room”. A lot of dancers show up, including some famous reclusives like Mamata Shankar.
I will get details later on.
Priti hosts Yoshiko and Bonnie’s meet with some choreographers in Kolkata. It is at her lovely run-down dance center. Very “Music Room”. A lot of dancers show up, including some famous reclusives like Mamata Shankar.
I will get details later on.
Afternoon: ALL FLY OUT OF IMPHAL
The usual Secret Service bureaucracies. Harried, hurried weigh-ins, security checks. Zette gets busted for her hair-dryer. Last minute arrangements for Les’ hotel reservation in Kolkata.
Mike says to me: You know what? I would like to think of Manipur as being like Cinderella, her beauty just waiting to be discovered. I’d be willing to play Fairy Godmother, she says.
I volunteer to be the Fairy if she will be the Godmother. Bonnie and Erin say my witticisms have become just godawful over the last ten days.
Many goodbyes. Some tears. I am dying to fly back to NYC with them.
Dave and I walk out together. He wants to grab a coffee; I insist of seeing the planes take off first.
Only when I did see the planes airborne do I feel I can finally let my breath out fully in all these days. Their safe departure, with no incident and in reasonable good health, has been a huge and abiding concern. That they seem to have had a good time, dare I say it, has been almost secondary.
The usual Secret Service bureaucracies. Harried, hurried weigh-ins, security checks. Zette gets busted for her hair-dryer. Last minute arrangements for Les’ hotel reservation in Kolkata.
Mike says to me: You know what? I would like to think of Manipur as being like Cinderella, her beauty just waiting to be discovered. I’d be willing to play Fairy Godmother, she says.
I volunteer to be the Fairy if she will be the Godmother. Bonnie and Erin say my witticisms have become just godawful over the last ten days.
Many goodbyes. Some tears. I am dying to fly back to NYC with them.
Dave and I walk out together. He wants to grab a coffee; I insist of seeing the planes take off first.
Only when I did see the planes airborne do I feel I can finally let my breath out fully in all these days. Their safe departure, with no incident and in reasonable good health, has been a huge and abiding concern. That they seem to have had a good time, dare I say it, has been almost secondary.
Morning: YOSHIKO AT SHALLOW RIVER AND KANHAILAL’S STUDIOS
Dave takes Yoshiko to his studio to hang more with the rest of the Shallow River gang. They screen Bona’s experimental film for her as well as some of Dave’s recent minute spots for AIDS Awareness Day. Yoshiko screens her Living Room Project documentation.
Yoshiko is thinking seriously of working with them. Marvelous.
Films:
THE LIVING ROOM PROJECT (Yoshiko Chuma, work-in-progress, video)
BREAKING TAO (Meisnam Leichil Luwang, 2003, 5 min, video)
Three HIV/AIDS commercial spots (Dave Thoudam, 2004, 1 min each, video)
Dave takes Yoshiko to his studio to hang more with the rest of the Shallow River gang. They screen Bona’s experimental film for her as well as some of Dave’s recent minute spots for AIDS Awareness Day. Yoshiko screens her Living Room Project documentation.
Yoshiko is thinking seriously of working with them. Marvelous.
Films:
THE LIVING ROOM PROJECT (Yoshiko Chuma, work-in-progress, video)
BREAKING TAO (Meisnam Leichil Luwang, 2003, 5 min, video)
Three HIV/AIDS commercial spots (Dave Thoudam, 2004, 1 min each, video)
Friday, November 26, 2004
All Day: A DAY IN THE COUNTRY
We drive to Khongjom, 35 km south of Imphal. Our guide is Dr. Nara. It is near his constituency. We are in nibe vehicles, included some heavy armed security.
I hop into the car with him so we may get some quality time together to talk. He’s been away a lot. I don’t know how many people realize how remarkable a personality he is. A poet, a Communist, a politico, homoeopath (he shows me his original clinic as we drive by it in Wangjing) he has shown some really dexterous and creative use of the sumaang lila form to say what he wants to say. He brings to mind the enlightened artist-politician-public intellectuals of Latin America.
KHONGJOM WAR MEMORIAL
We stop by the 1891 battle site. Maybe a 100 women, in pink sarongs to denote mourning, line our walk up the eucalyptus-lined approach way. We offer flowers at the shrine that has General Paona Brajabasi’s last words inscribed on it.
A man approaches Tamo Nara. He prostrates himself and holds onto Tamo’s ankles. He weeps loudly. Tamo is on his cell-phone. Weird. We later learn he was asking for his help in getting some back pay.
On the way back, I take a picture of Thang-Ta Girl striking a martial arts pose under the statue of Paona Brajabasi. Little did I know then that Paona’s style of swordplay is one of the antecedents of Oja Debabrata’s school.
TOUR OF SLOPELAND PUBLIC SCHOOL
Wow, hundreds of kids lined the road to the school, they clapped, and we joined in, as we walked the gauntlet of welcome.
I don’t know how but Bonnie and I stray from the group with a few teachers who show us the school, the dorms, the kitchen. Tamo Nara is a little peeved we missed the reception. Whoopsy.
INAUGURATION OF SCHOOL SECRETARY’S QUARTERS
Les cuts the ribbon to inaugurate the head honcho’s new house. I had suggested that he should do it on behalf of the group since there was no way for all of us to do it.
But our names will be carved into the foundation stone! Wowee.
PARENTS DAY AND PRESS CONFERENCE: OUR EXPERIENCE IN MANIPUR
Tamo Nara announces that henceforth November 26 will be Parents Day in this school. Neat. We are all gathered in the open-air auditorium. We sit on a dais, all lined, respectable like. I introduce the project, talk about ACC, the help that Tamo Nara and Pabung Deben have given. Each of us in turn says something: I am particularly touched by Bonnie’s speaking as a parent; Zette saying how the lovely scenery and balmy weather reminds her of her native California; and of course Yoshiko. She says, "Communication is more than mere words." She dances. And says “Thank you.”
The Q&A is too formal I feel so we all move off the dais and take questions. Erin sportingly does a Thang-ta routine, but only after saying how she hopes her phanek does not come undone. This gets a big laugh from the women in the audience.
We announce a little gift of R5000 to the school.
SCHOOL LUNCH
As promised, Tamo Nara has tree bean and soybeans on his menu. And phola too. Zette likes the sweet thingummy.
COURTYARD THEATER: THE ROSE OF LIDICE
TRAILER PREVIEW OFUPCOMING ATTRACTION
Sana Leibak Nachom Artistes performs a play about Czechoslovakia 1942. Preceded by a preview of KHAMBA-THOIBI, their next play. What a hoot, the idea of a trailer preview of a play! I think it is mainly because they want to show off Sanaton do the Thoibi dance in his customary drag. He is real purty.
Of course Bonnie gets top billing in Tamo’s introduction because Vit is Czech. She gives them a message from him. She is a big hit.
I enjoy the play even more this time. Especially seeing the entire open-air stage from the top of the hill when I went looking for the men’s room. The soldier who had made way for me through the throng yelling into his megaphone – now, that’s how one should go to pee always – stands next to me and quizzes me about the group. I see Sanaton is in her white wedding dress, playing a lovely young Czech maiden called Silky, way down below. In the distance, the sun is setting over the paddy fields.
We file up on stage and offer flowers as part of the play. I note this is what Ima had suggested when we first saw the play last summer. Zette and Erin bring two little schoolchildren by the hand to offer flowers with them. Sweet.
THABAL CHONGBI
Boy, does Tamo Nara know how to dance the Thabal Chongbi. I am all uncoordinated as always. Bonnie is great. Yoshiko dives in and dances in the middle. Its fun; its always more fun than I think it will be.
Night: KONUNG MAHA RAS AT PALACE TEMPLE
We change in the dark. I’ts another of those annoying black-outs that comes from a power shortage. I think people here are mostly used to it by take it stoically. How much of it is due to a cultural low self-esteem? For lack of a cultural vision of a possible future?
Maha Ras was on its way. The women sit with my mother; Les and I with the men. Mike insists on coming though she obviously still has a cold.
There are maybe 60 dancers, all women. They form a circle, and as the evening wears on, form yet another circle. There are that many gopis, all in scarlet potlois like the one Zette looked at yesterday. But the dance costume has a large shimmery peplum and the women have conical hairdos and a gauzy white veil that drapes over it and over their faces. They also have a tight white wrapping around their upper bodies. Did someone once tell me the drum-like shape of the dress, the veil, and the white wrapping that tamps down the bosom are all meant to minimize blatant sensuousness? I guess that would be important since the Ras, being a form of Vaishnav worship, comes down to love. Erotic love being one of the major ones among the 64 listed.
The idols of Radha and Krishna have moved out from their shrine in the temple, into the center of the performance space. As the gods themselves have graced the occasion with their presence, as is customary in the Palace Temple, no performers dance the roles of Krishna and Radha. The idols rotate on a wooden platfor and the lead dancer dances around, keeping the gods in front of her.
The lead dancer, or makokchingbi, is very good. Of course the pros are there to lead the singing: Thouranisabi and Gambhini, and there are four additional professional singers to the side, as backup. My ubiquitous aunt is there too, having been a rather well-known beauty and singer before she married my uncle. Who, to carry my Star Wars analogy a little further into the realm of disrespect, always reminded me of Jabba the Hutt.
The other dancers are middling to terrible. “The worse they are, the more jewelry they wear”, my mother remarks wryly to Mike. Apparently they pay a lot of money. There being so many this year, obviously filling a cash crunch at the Temple Board, the dancers collide like a doll demolition derby. Their peplums continually get entangled and I see tempers fly among the Palace dancing beauties.
My cameraman is a cocky young man who does not bother to dress traditional while using his 3-chip camera. He gets yelled at by an older devotee and I rush him out quickly. End of documentation, unless I succeed in chatting up one of the other cameramen hired by a doting husband or a budding prima donna. The problem is, like the makokchingbi dancing to the rotating gods, I fear they footage will only show the one dancer the cameraman has been hired to film.
Bhangi starts. It is too late to get out to catch the Bijoy Gobinda Maha Ras that takes place simultaneously across town. I thought it might be fun to see the liove Krishna and Radha dancers there. We stick it out in the cold. The lights go off as Krishna disappears in order to teach Radha not to be so high-maintenance. A pure young voice wafts in the dark towards me. It is Radha apologizing for her bad manners in asking for preferential treatment over her fellow gopis. It is sung a capella, lovely and melodious.
We leave for Bijoy Gobinda as soon as we can. But the Ras is already over there and we only see the clean-up crew.
We change in the dark. I’ts another of those annoying black-outs that comes from a power shortage. I think people here are mostly used to it by take it stoically. How much of it is due to a cultural low self-esteem? For lack of a cultural vision of a possible future?
Maha Ras was on its way. The women sit with my mother; Les and I with the men. Mike insists on coming though she obviously still has a cold.
There are maybe 60 dancers, all women. They form a circle, and as the evening wears on, form yet another circle. There are that many gopis, all in scarlet potlois like the one Zette looked at yesterday. But the dance costume has a large shimmery peplum and the women have conical hairdos and a gauzy white veil that drapes over it and over their faces. They also have a tight white wrapping around their upper bodies. Did someone once tell me the drum-like shape of the dress, the veil, and the white wrapping that tamps down the bosom are all meant to minimize blatant sensuousness? I guess that would be important since the Ras, being a form of Vaishnav worship, comes down to love. Erotic love being one of the major ones among the 64 listed.
The idols of Radha and Krishna have moved out from their shrine in the temple, into the center of the performance space. As the gods themselves have graced the occasion with their presence, as is customary in the Palace Temple, no performers dance the roles of Krishna and Radha. The idols rotate on a wooden platfor and the lead dancer dances around, keeping the gods in front of her.
The lead dancer, or makokchingbi, is very good. Of course the pros are there to lead the singing: Thouranisabi and Gambhini, and there are four additional professional singers to the side, as backup. My ubiquitous aunt is there too, having been a rather well-known beauty and singer before she married my uncle. Who, to carry my Star Wars analogy a little further into the realm of disrespect, always reminded me of Jabba the Hutt.
The other dancers are middling to terrible. “The worse they are, the more jewelry they wear”, my mother remarks wryly to Mike. Apparently they pay a lot of money. There being so many this year, obviously filling a cash crunch at the Temple Board, the dancers collide like a doll demolition derby. Their peplums continually get entangled and I see tempers fly among the Palace dancing beauties.
My cameraman is a cocky young man who does not bother to dress traditional while using his 3-chip camera. He gets yelled at by an older devotee and I rush him out quickly. End of documentation, unless I succeed in chatting up one of the other cameramen hired by a doting husband or a budding prima donna. The problem is, like the makokchingbi dancing to the rotating gods, I fear they footage will only show the one dancer the cameraman has been hired to film.
Bhangi starts. It is too late to get out to catch the Bijoy Gobinda Maha Ras that takes place simultaneously across town. I thought it might be fun to see the liove Krishna and Radha dancers there. We stick it out in the cold. The lights go off as Krishna disappears in order to teach Radha not to be so high-maintenance. A pure young voice wafts in the dark towards me. It is Radha apologizing for her bad manners in asking for preferential treatment over her fellow gopis. It is sung a capella, lovely and melodious.
We leave for Bijoy Gobinda as soon as we can. But the Ras is already over there and we only see the clean-up crew.
Morning: DROPPING IN ON THE THANG-TA GIRL
Zette, my mother and I set out to look at the bridal dress Zette is acquiring for the Newark Museum. We drop in on Erin first. The earnest young men are all there, on time as usual. I don’t they are what people have in mind when they say “Manipur Time”. Whatever.
Erin is not half bad. I mean, she’s been at it for just a week. She does the swordfight routine with another girl. They use canes. We talk to Oja Debabrata. He promises to give her a set of four canes to take back to New York. He tells me about this young Army fellow who’s been at it much longer and has not made as much progress as Erin has.
Zette, my mother and I set out to look at the bridal dress Zette is acquiring for the Newark Museum. We drop in on Erin first. The earnest young men are all there, on time as usual. I don’t they are what people have in mind when they say “Manipur Time”. Whatever.
Erin is not half bad. I mean, she’s been at it for just a week. She does the swordfight routine with another girl. They use canes. We talk to Oja Debabrata. He promises to give her a set of four canes to take back to New York. He tells me about this young Army fellow who’s been at it much longer and has not made as much progress as Erin has.
Morning: SOROKHAIBAM IBOMCHA’S BRIDAL DRESS WORKSHOP
We go to Moirang Leirak, by the once beautiful Nambol River. Now there is too much garbage. I hear Yoshiko has been asking about the garbage here, the plastic bags, the urban pollution. She not only sees but also cares enough to ask.
Zette's potloi is lovely. A little absurd really, a sequined drum, but lovely. I think Zette is pleased.
I had asked Ibomcha to leave it a little unfinished so that she may see him at work a bit. He names all the design elements – fig seed, lotus petal, the bee, clover – and Teja videotapes. We hope to produce a 5-minute looper for the Wedding Dress show next May.
The potloi is scarlet raw silk and not in saton, as Manipuris call satin. The border is not the contemporary the phanek bee design, but the original brass disks. The blouse is silk too, not the usual velvet. My mother has been advising to ensure the authenticity of design. Well, that’s a tricky term, but we think that this design will be as illuminating to Manipuris as to New Jerseyans. Now that’s a concept I’d like to mull over a bit more.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Night: MANIPURI-AMERICAN THANKSGIVING TURKEY DINNER.
We host. We cook. It’s the first Manipuri-American Thanksgiving Dinner.
The dining rooms looks smashing. IKEA tea-lights and all. Decorative turkeys on every table. Napkins too for a change! I seat them all, an American guest at every table.
I welcome all the hosts and talk about the turkeys, the mixed menu. Blah blah. Then Z tells us all about Thanksgiving. She’s a Good Pilgrim. But I would have added something about Pilgrims meeting Fake Indians once again. Tee hee.
And Imo’s cooked turkey is great! But the roast is dry and the turkey look all scrawny and Gandhian.
MANIPURI-THANKSGIVING DAY MENU
Clay-oven Roasted Turkey
Imo’s Stir-fried Turkey with Shallots
Imo-gi Turkey Meitei Til’houga Thongba
Rice stuffing with Cranberries and coconut
Meitei Pullao
Stove Top Stuffing
Curried Carp
Katla Ngaa thongba
Lentils seasoned with Vegetable Ash
Mang’gan Uti
Mung Beans
Muk
Tapioca with Sugarcane
Mangraa Hei’ngaan
Boiled Mustard Green Stalks
Hang’gaam Yelaa Cham’phut
Arrowhead Fritters
Koukha Bora
Jellied Cranberry Sauce
Wild Sour Apple Sauce
Heitup ambon
Sour Sougri Fruit Sauce
Silok Sougri Mahei Thongba
Chili Banana Palm with Fermented Fish
Laphu Iromba
Erin’s Hot Apple Cider
Zette and Michelle’s Apple Cinnamon Cake
Morning : OUR BASEBALL GAME
Play ball!
I can’t believe it is actually happening. Baseball in Manipur. The kids look good. The weather is perfect. Teja shows up in full baseball regalia. Nice to have a camerman in uniform.
Mike calls me over. Listen to this, she says. Dave sings “Take Me to the Ball-Game”! Apparently they downloaded the song and music. Dave will sing with Bonnie before the game. And so they do. A nice start. Charming..
We make sure it is all taped of course. Oh, and they have the baseball T-shorts I asked for!
Les pitches the first ball. He's got a pretty good arm it seems.
Mike and I set up some more interviews. Bhanu and Pakpa talk about their difficulties keeping the game alive. We must get this film made.
The burgers and coke lunch arrives. Ragini always delivers, in this instance in more ways than one. Too bad Imo couldn’t do it since he was too busy catering the whole car rally shebang. I had scheduled a Burger King lunch from the only Burger King in India. Oh well, we will have a Burger King Turkey Dinner. Must get a picture of his restaurant nonetheless.
Evening: SCREENINGS OF MANIPURI AND AMERICAN FILMS
I am so pleased we can schedule Lancha’s films. We ran out of time last Sunday since Mr. Ken Burns took so long.
Tamo Somo came by. I am glad he can see the films at last.
The turkeys will take longer. The roasted one is looking good but terribly big for Imo’s clay oven. He doesn’t take to Madhur’s advice to deep-fry it. I guess he needs to do it his way. Plus, he has no idea who Madhur and he takes my “famous cook-book author” routine rather nonchalantly as befits the proprietor of India’s only Burger King.
More turkey-time means more films. So we start screening “Field of Dreams” that Mike has brought (he he – it’s a bit of an inside joke for us). Our “screening room” in the sangoi looks faaaabulous.
Erin makes some apple cider. It is amazing what the entire group has put into this Thanksgiving Dinner. Turkey decorations, Stove-Top stuffing, turkey tablecloths, fall leaves, cranberries, what not.
I am really happy about this all.
Films:
THE DREAM (Ningthouja Lancha, Video, 2001, 27 min)
BUT IT NEVER RAINED (Ningthouja Lancha, Video, 2003, 39 min)
FIELD OF DREAMS (Phil Alden Robinson, 1989, 106 min)
I am so pleased we can schedule Lancha’s films. We ran out of time last Sunday since Mr. Ken Burns took so long.
Tamo Somo came by. I am glad he can see the films at last.
The turkeys will take longer. The roasted one is looking good but terribly big for Imo’s clay oven. He doesn’t take to Madhur’s advice to deep-fry it. I guess he needs to do it his way. Plus, he has no idea who Madhur and he takes my “famous cook-book author” routine rather nonchalantly as befits the proprietor of India’s only Burger King.
More turkey-time means more films. So we start screening “Field of Dreams” that Mike has brought (he he – it’s a bit of an inside joke for us). Our “screening room” in the sangoi looks faaaabulous.
Erin makes some apple cider. It is amazing what the entire group has put into this Thanksgiving Dinner. Turkey decorations, Stove-Top stuffing, turkey tablecloths, fall leaves, cranberries, what not.
I am really happy about this all.
Films:
THE DREAM (Ningthouja Lancha, Video, 2001, 27 min)
BUT IT NEVER RAINED (Ningthouja Lancha, Video, 2003, 39 min)
FIELD OF DREAMS (Phil Alden Robinson, 1989, 106 min)
Afternoon: I PICK UP TURKEYS AT AIRPORT
The turkeys have landed. Yay!
But it’s not quite over yet. I come back from the airport with the two boxes. Bless Priti’s sweet soul!
The three birds weigh 15 kilos. My Burden of Dreams.
I mean, how would I have explained a wimp-out to the Consul General? I mean, asking Sibley for three turkeys with all the trimmings was ballsy, OK, but I knew well what a long shot it was. It was amusing at least. It was nice of Hizzoner to write back and say, Yes, we have no turkeys. Mike had told me as much: the US State Department is not what it used to be. I like a good refusal nonetheless.
Plus Sibley warns me against taking the group to Manipur. In my letter, I had deliberately left out the fact that I am from Manipur. He chastises me about my “mistake” in my website: there indeed is a travel advisory for the region, he says. Yeah, yeah, I see the update is after he received my letter. Have turkeys resulted in a change in State Department advice? It amuses me to wonder.
But – DISASTER! - Z and Michelle (again!) think they can’t do one. I flip out. I yell at Nicky and demand he get his dad here right away. Imo arrives: he will do it, whatever it takes. Now, I like that. We’ll see.
The turkeys have landed. Yay!
But it’s not quite over yet. I come back from the airport with the two boxes. Bless Priti’s sweet soul!
The three birds weigh 15 kilos. My Burden of Dreams.
I mean, how would I have explained a wimp-out to the Consul General? I mean, asking Sibley for three turkeys with all the trimmings was ballsy, OK, but I knew well what a long shot it was. It was amusing at least. It was nice of Hizzoner to write back and say, Yes, we have no turkeys. Mike had told me as much: the US State Department is not what it used to be. I like a good refusal nonetheless.
Plus Sibley warns me against taking the group to Manipur. In my letter, I had deliberately left out the fact that I am from Manipur. He chastises me about my “mistake” in my website: there indeed is a travel advisory for the region, he says. Yeah, yeah, I see the update is after he received my letter. Have turkeys resulted in a change in State Department advice? It amuses me to wonder.
But – DISASTER! - Z and Michelle (again!) think they can’t do one. I flip out. I yell at Nicky and demand he get his dad here right away. Imo arrives: he will do it, whatever it takes. Now, I like that. We’ll see.
