Juggling thoughts

Racism against North East Indians has become so routine it barely shocks anymore. Slurs are brushed off as “casual,” assaults spark brief outrage, then disappear. The real crisis is the normalisation. This is not just a failure of individual behaviour. It is structural. A nation that does not teach its children about all its people should not be surprised when prejudice feels ordinary. Students in the Seven Sisters grow up learning the history, culture, and leaders of the rest of India. Yet across much of the country, the North East is reduced to stereotypes, insurgency headlines, or tourism clichés. That imbalance is not accidental. It is institutional. When textbooks marginalise regions, ignorance becomes policy. And policy-level ignorance breeds social prejudice. The Ministry of Education must ensure meaningful inclusion of North East history, indigenous cultures, political contributions, linguistic diversity, and contemporary achievements across all school boards — not as a token c...

At a conference I once attended to cover a feature story, a young, well-educated man presented his innovation: a kitchen appliance. His pitch leaned heavily on one phrase: “Made easy for housewives.” He repeated it often. And every time, it felt wrong. Not because the intent was malicious, but because the language was lazy. Two words: 'housewife and homemaker' are often treated as synonyms, yet they are separated by a deep line of respect. Then came a moment of quiet correction. A senior woman, who leads one of the state’s most respected women weavers’ collectives, stepped onto the dais. With grace and a smile, she said, “Let me correct this first. They are homemakers, not housewives.” The applause was instant and deserved. You see… a house cannot marry a wife. Because words matter. Because labels define worth. Let’s do the math society conveniently ignores: A full-time cook. A housekeeper. A tutor. A nurse An errand runner. A manager. A caregiver. That’s easily ₹25,000 a month...

 As I traverse the length and breadth of India, I'm constantly reminded of the deep-seated regional biases that permeate our country. The tendency to judge fellow Indians based on their geographical origins.  I feel media stance has amplified prejudices that has long being ingrained,and fueled divisions which isn't even necessary. The Blame Game: A Two-Way Street When deregotary incidents  occur in any  states, we often resort to blaming entire communities or regions.  Unfortunately, people from the North-East , including me, are not immune to this behavior either, frequently stereotyping every Bihari, every Punjaban, every Bengali, every Miyas and to an extent that every one from UP, MP, Maharashtra,Rajasthan are all non-local Biharis 😄. We sensationalize and generalize, attributing negative traits to entire groups. But it's not every North-Easterners who do that. So are no mainlanders the same.  The weight of misconceptions is heavy.  I've lost coun...

 Let’s pretend it’s the 90’s and we are reading Arundhati’s article on the morning newspaper. A long column, the kind that demanded your attention over chai, not a hurried look between two beeps of your phone. We are living in an ultra-fast world. A world that boasts itself on speed of delivery, of data, of consumption. Every day something new evolves, something transforms. Yet, in this acceleration, our lives are being reduced to those ten-second scrolls of distraction. We move too quickly between work, notifications, schedules. Always clearing schedules, never lingering.  No time for the real people around us. No time to pause, No time to read and truly absorb anything that exceeds three sentences because attention itself has become a luxury.  There was a time, not long ago, when friendship meant the freedom to knock on someone’s door without any notice, when affection was not measured in emojis but in cups of tea shared on lazy afternoons. Strangely, today we must fir...

 In this fast-moving world, the quiet heaviness of seasonal depression can sometimes settle into our hearts before we even notice. We find ourselves feeling drained, distant, and disconnected even from God. And when that happens, our first instinct is often to withdraw from everything and everyone. We stop reading Scripture, our prayers grow faint, and we drift from fellowship. Somewhere deep inside, a small voice whispers that we must look perfect before we return to God. That’s the mirage of perfection : the lie that makes us believe that our flaws disqualify us from His love. But nothing could be further from the truth. God never asked us to be flawless . He simply asks us to come. To bring our fears, failures, and broken hearts to Him. He already knows our weaknesses, every single one and still calls us His own. Our imperfections don’t drive Him away; they draw Him closer. It’s in our weakness that His strength is revealed. The real invitation of faith begins when we stumble....

Sarah Allen’s It’s OK Not to Be OK is a gentle, heartfelt reminder that all emotions , even the difficult ones deserve space. The book beautifully tells children that feeling sad or upset doesn’t make them weak, it simply makes them human. Too often, we unknowingly silence the emotions of our children. We tell them to stop crying, to “be strong,” without realizing that strength can also mean being honest about how we feel. Especially in our Naga style of parenting, we normalize certain phrases that carry deep emotional impact. When our sons cry, we tell them, “uno eloe ane undo kya la?” (Are you a girl? Why cry like one?) And when our daughters are bold or outspoken, we ask, “eboe esua hetata khunga la nung?” (Why are you being so strong-headed like a boy?) So then, we don’t just correct their behavior, we shape their understanding of emotion and identity. Our words slowly teach boys to suppress their feelings and girls to silence their strength. No wonder we’re raising another stereo...