Monday, December 03, 2007

A Welcome To Bir Tikndrajit Flyover


By: Bobo Khuraijam

Development is where the heart is. The heart is where it chokes, it fumes, it cripples, and it makes noise. Some of the leipung members bumped into one of the grand symbol of the all round and round development- THE FLYOVER. The symbol captures the attention of everyone. Like any other issue that smells bad, it invites the controversial nose of every citizentry. Some said it smells rotten, some said it smells fishy, some said it smells pungent, some said it smells good.

Would it not be stimulating if we here it from the horse mouth? Here it is; ‘hello everyone! My name is Bir Tikendrajit flyover. One might wonder why I did not get my name from Congress dynasty. Keep wondering. Some called me leikang Thong and some called me an over bridge. I am happy with the name “flyover”. Cynics called me as nothing but a big speed breaker. What a ruthless an unmerciful name that is? Who they are? Huh!! They must know that I do not break any kind of sped. As a matter of fact, I boost speed to the motorist.

Just think how would they climb on my back without accelerating the engine? They must also check their speedometer when they descend down. They will be too busy caressing the break. Shameful creatures indeed. Ask them how many times they rode on my back up and down on the opening day. They left only when they were interrupted by the dutiful police commandoes. They should keep in mind that I am the first born child. The first born has the right to be pampered. I know- I know there are so many of my cousins at so many places. You will find them mostly in the metros and the capital city. You know it is a BIG sign of over development.

It is also true that hundreds of my cousins were born when I was still in the womb. They are longer, bigger and weightier than me. They crisscross each other like a fine tapestry in a woven cloth. Please do not blame me for my late delivery. I had to be removed by a cesarean surgery. My placenta was coiling around my neck. I was suffocating inside. The doctors who read the ultra-sonography report told me. A normal delivery was not at all possible. Mother had physical complication. Father had both mental and physical complication. So I had to be operated out.

Do I look malnourished? Do I look unhealthy? Please, I am fine with myself. I think I am happy with the proportion of my body. Do you know that it gives me a shiver down my spine when I recalled the days of my germination. I was just a microscopic cell then, invisible to the eyes. People made so much noise. They fought over my name. There was serious divide between some of the folks. So much for the name, I should say. It must be all out of love for me. But as I grew up, I here rumours. They had nothing to do with my name. They are madly in love with a script of whatever that is to be written on my body. If that is true, I think they should leave me alone.

Whichever groups with whatsoever designs should not write anything on my body.I have nothing against their affairs. I hope they will not pollute the beauty of the Imphal skyline with their romance. They should also give some space for other lovers as well. I wonder why some people did not come out to defend. I am referring to those people who have benefited handsomely from my early period of existence to my day of birth. Some of them have pocketed a good some of money. It must be of few lakhs only. Tell me what can one do with a few lakhs of rupees? But they should at least pay their gratitude if they have benefited from me. I know they will deny on this matter. Mirror, mirror on the wall, please tell them that I am not lying.

Dear god, please send them SMS that I am telling the truth. Even a missed call will do. I know pedestrian as well as motorist cursed me for the mess around. I cry the whole night. Yet, their awe full gaze the next day gives me a solace. I find peace sleeping on the lap of keithel lairembi. Deep of the night, I here the whisper of the Numbul and the Naga river. I here them say that I am a monster who have come to show its strength to the weak. I am just a spoiled bred who seeks undue attention from other younger siblings. Most of them are in a terrible state. They are of the view that I have been given utmost attention by my parents. Calling me monster and a spoil bred will do harm to themselves only.

But I will not hesitate to pay my humble apology to maharaj Bheigachandra and his elephant. I know, I have diminished the profundity of their existence. His highness’ statue has been the very land mark of Khwairamband. With all respect, I lay my penitence for obstructing the view of the gods in Kangal. I know my back would be too high for the lord to see the distant vista. It also pains me to see how the toiling people in the keithel are harassed every now and then. They have been the softest target of the municipal authorities and the law enforcing agencies. Hundreds of people toiled under my belly. Now they are being driven out on my birthday. I am sure, I have no idea of what would they think of me.

Let me share a secret. I have nightmare that I will be deprived one day of all the attention I get. I can anticipate some more of my younger cousins are coming up in the future. That would be the worst day of my life. I take no sorrow in exhibiting my narcissism since I am the only child now. If they want to blame, my parents should be held responsible for my place of birth. It does not mean that I do not respect them. I do love them. But have you heard of a dialogue which says “your failure as a son is also my failure as a father”? It sometimes keeps echoing in my ears. Forget it. Everything melts into the serene sound of the vehicles and the keithel. These are all going to be part of my life. I cannot run away from it. I wish I could share more things with you. Do visit me whenever you wish. I have lots more to share. THANKS FOR YOUR VISIT”.

LEIPUNG NINGTHOU has nothing to say today. He was given unknown calls by someone from a satellite phone. The guy in the other end of the wave told him to be careful of his wangang –sangang.

http://www.kanglaonline.com/index.php?template=kshow&kid=1058&Idoc_Session=90cf66a4a87638d8d2f471fac90a54fd

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