Our Columnists – Eastern Mirror https://easternmirrornagaland.com The latest and breaking news from Nagaland, northeast India, India and the world. Current affairs and news of politics from around the world, latest updates on business news, sports, arts and entertainment Mon, 27 Jan 2020 04:24:23 +0000 en-GB hourly 1 https://easternmirrornagaland.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/cropped-FavIcon-32x32.png Our Columnists – Eastern Mirror https://easternmirrornagaland.com 32 32 The Wake-Up Call https://easternmirrornagaland.com/the-wake-up-call/ Sat, 19 Aug 2017 16:16:05 +0000 http://www.easternmirrornagaland.com/?p=133505 I infer and conclude that having spent almost all of my life in places where sunshine was a much sought- after luxury, I can now reckon and construe my love for daylight, luminosity, and give full justification for my complete partiality and predilection to warm sunny days and summer. I have got to confess to being an ardent romantic about the beauty of sunsets, yet a manic depressive at sun-downs conferring a similar bearing toward the cold of winters. The Sun has a way with me. Day break lifts my spirits and I am filled with a kind of renewed unrestrained verve and vitality. As sunlight spills over, joie de vivre takes over any form of lethargy or trace of slump. It is unmistakably Vitamin D for the body and of the soul, that even birds can’t resist their melodious twitters at the sight of the glorious golden glow. Better yet is the smell of sunshine. Nothing has smelt fresher to me than the waft of crisp clean freshness found in laundry and linen hung out in the warmth of the sun.  Its aromatic fragrance gives off as much, as does fresh rain on dry ground and I’ve found myself...

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I infer and conclude that having spent almost all of my life in places where sunshine was a much sought- after luxury, I can now reckon and construe my love for daylight, luminosity, and give full justification for my complete partiality and predilection to warm sunny days and summer.

I have got to confess to being an ardent romantic about the beauty of sunsets, yet a manic depressive at sun-downs conferring a similar bearing toward the cold of winters.

The Sun has a way with me.

Day break lifts my spirits and I am filled with a kind of renewed unrestrained verve and vitality. As sunlight spills over, joie de vivre takes over any form of lethargy or trace of slump. It is unmistakably Vitamin D for the body and of the soul, that even birds can’t resist their melodious twitters at the sight of the glorious golden glow.

Better yet is the smell of sunshine. Nothing has smelt fresher to me than the waft of crisp clean freshness found in laundry and linen hung out in the warmth of the sun.  Its aromatic fragrance gives off as much, as does fresh rain on dry ground and I’ve found myself every so often, revelling in it.

Piercing through a blanketed thicket of forested woods, life blooms in the tiniest flowering shrub. Brooks and streams gurgle and sparkle in the bask of the sun’s warmth.

Stepping out of numb cold environs into the dynamic radiance of the sun has always been such a welcome sensation reaching right into the bones through to the cockles of the heart, certainly radiating a glow of pure contentment and gladness, a pleasure only one can absorb, but certainly exude involuntarily.

All glory, praise and honour will forever be on my lips to God the creator of this Universe, for the fourth day of creation when the Sun came into being and the wonder of its blessing, bringing life and healing to one and all.

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Of him who is the wind beneath my wings https://easternmirrornagaland.com/of-him-who-is-the-wind-beneath-my-wings/ Sat, 05 Aug 2017 17:08:47 +0000 http://www.easternmirrornagaland.com/?p=130896 “ In mighty gusts the wind today swirled around the beach, blew the sand…… The powerful things which would not bend, resisted…. snapped and broke away… ..and yet I saw a Seagull rest upon the strength of the same wind. She spread her wings and gently leaned as if against her lover’s breast…” Engulfed in gratitude once again, my heart I bare, hopeful that even as your eyes skim over these lines, every encumbrance that you bear would be lightened, even if for just a while. No shackles, no bondages, free, buoyant and happy. Airborne and soaring ; on the wing. Closely, this is how it has been as I traversed through life from as long as I can remember. Scarcely do I recall putting on the ‘worry hat’. Never did I permit it to drown me. An urge of eagerness and readiness, motivation and keenness is what usually drove me, a force that hardly ever consented to weigh me down. I would always face the bridge when I had to cross it. A little voice somewhere helped place a trust…. I seemed to know deep inside that things would fall into place. Answers I didn’t have as to how...

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“ In mighty gusts the wind today swirled around the beach, blew the sand……

The powerful things which would not bend, resisted…. snapped and broke away…

..and yet I saw a Seagull rest upon the strength of the same wind.

She spread her wings and gently leaned as if against her lover’s breast…”

Engulfed in gratitude once again, my heart I bare, hopeful that even as your eyes skim over these lines, every encumbrance that you bear would be lightened, even if for just a while.

No shackles, no bondages, free, buoyant and happy. Airborne and soaring ; on the wing. Closely, this is how it has been as I traversed through life from as long as I can remember.

Scarcely do I recall putting on the ‘worry hat’. Never did I permit it to drown me. An urge of eagerness and readiness, motivation and keenness is what usually drove me, a force that hardly ever consented to weigh me down.

I would always face the bridge when I had to cross it. A little voice somewhere helped place a trust…. I seemed to know deep inside that things would fall into place.

Answers I didn’t have as to how or when and almost always it certainly did, somehow someway. A Que Sera attitude you could call the discipline I followed. A juvenile philosophy?  Maybe so!

The lines of poetry quoted at the start were written to me once. Could I connect  or relate to it? A pondered flashback says ‘Yes’, but how or why did I take this on? I have no rational reasoning. All I could understand was the pleasurable exuberance of carefree gliding, swooping flying and soaring. So often, as I reflect, have I also let myself fall, swooping down, almost hitting ground, and then I would suddenly take wing and be lifted. Yes, ‘ be lifted’  I say as I couldn’t ever have   picked myself up with such adroit deftness or at so precise an appointed time.

A realization too invaluable, too enormously immense to miss or snub, today in exaltation, honour and adoration I spread my wings identifying with the Seagull and continuing to fly, soar, swoop and glide, resting upon the strength of the same wind, that strength beneath my wings.

That strength that has been carrying me through both the calm and storms of strong gusts of breeze the course of which was almost smooth-sailing forever lifted beyond the reach of the tempest.

So along with the lyricist in gratefulness I voice the lines:

“ You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas

I am strong, when I am on your shoulders You raise me up…. To more than I can be.”

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The Crossroad Remedy https://easternmirrornagaland.com/the-crossroad-remedy/ Sat, 29 Jul 2017 18:31:11 +0000 http://www.easternmirrornagaland.com/?p=129490 Left, Right, Straight on or Retrace? The very questions that create bewildering uncertainty at a point when we are confounded; walking down a new path, on unfamiliar grounds or while making crucial choices. None has been spared the tight spot; not the apprentice or the veteran. Faced it I have, not once, not twice but times innumerable. Tumult and pandemonium resulting in a type of agitated uneasiness, an anxious disquiet inside the head, one that cannot easily be shrugged off. That which was able to inaudibly tiptoe in, wedge itself firm, soon gluing on, immovably stuck. The source customarily being, unresolved issues, anxious uncertainties, fears, suspicions and qualms all devastatingly detrimental to one’s rational well being. This inner mayhem and uproar creates such unrest, making even the lowest external disorder excruciating. Such an assault fell upon me one day. Everything, both within and outside shred, slit, scratched, tore gashed-just short of rupturing the sagacity out of me. A force inside induced in me might to pry myself from this fix. Tugging, heaving and dragging myself I managed to haul and wrench myself away. The encumbrance didn’t disappear as I’d expected. It lay heavy, I was bent over, overweighed. Exhausted with...

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Left, Right, Straight on or Retrace? The very questions that create bewildering uncertainty at a point when we are confounded; walking down a new path, on unfamiliar grounds or while making crucial choices.

None has been spared the tight spot; not the apprentice or the veteran.

Faced it I have, not once, not twice but times innumerable.

Tumult and pandemonium resulting in a type of agitated uneasiness, an anxious disquiet inside the head, one that cannot easily be shrugged off. That which was able to inaudibly tiptoe in, wedge itself firm, soon gluing on, immovably stuck. The source customarily being, unresolved issues, anxious uncertainties, fears, suspicions and qualms all devastatingly detrimental to one’s rational well being.

This inner mayhem and uproar creates such unrest, making even the lowest external disorder excruciating.

Such an assault fell upon me one day. Everything, both within and outside shred, slit, scratched, tore gashed-just short of rupturing the sagacity out of me.

A force inside induced in me might to pry myself from this fix. Tugging, heaving and dragging myself I managed to haul and wrench myself away. The encumbrance didn’t disappear as I’d expected. It lay heavy, I was bent over, overweighed.

Exhausted with fatigue I closed my eyes.

I could now feel the deafening pounding of my heart in my ears gently ease. I breathed out a big sigh and consciously permitted the chaos to roll out. Stillness began creeping in. I stopped my mind from trying to sort and reckon. I let it all flow out. Every taut muscle in my body slackened. My heart stopped its racing and the pulsating nerves unruffled.

I ran the verses Psalm 46 : 10 and Exodus 14 : 14 in my head ‘ Be Still…” The raging sea was serene and the storm immediately quieted. Instant Peace Composure and Tranquillity prevailed.

This then was what true stillness meant. Not the quiet of the world outside but the real serene calm that one can call one’s own –within this stillness could I feel God move, when the fight and struggle of leaning on my own strength and understanding was brought to a complete standstill. Here and now, I saw God take over – it was here and now that I felt all the rough smoothen out. Let go and let God, and experience the ‘stillness’ of Psalm 46 in your life today.

To my Readers everyone, I leave these lines to turn to at every Crossroad Chaos :

Let God choose for you, it will be the right decision.
Let God guide you, it will be the right direction.
Let God plan for you, it will be in the right timing.
Let God measure for you, it will be the right portion.
Let God help you, it will be the right care.
Let God instruct you, it will be the right teaching.
Let God prepare you, it will be the right training.
Let God counsel you, it will be the right perspective.
Let God fight for you, it will be the right outcome.
Let God work in you, it will be the right result.

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The Spread on my Bread https://easternmirrornagaland.com/the-spread-on-my-bread/ Sat, 22 Jul 2017 17:24:41 +0000 http://www.easternmirrornagaland.com/?p=128011 The Aztecs and the Incas of the first century in the Common Era used this as a remedy for toothache. Though I do not belong there, my knowledge of it did begin decades ago through a tale told about a circus lion who had it bad when it stuck onto the roof of his mouth. Many of you may have by now guessed what this object of my appreciation would be, however, let me take a little digress talking about its kinfolk. Only about a couple of weeks back, a very dear one packaged a bottle full of Jam made by her very loving and dexterous hands and expertise; let me tell you that with the first spoonful came a deluge of memories flooding my head. Reminisces of Jars-full of Jellies and Jams which my parents spent in making (besides others), while utilizing a great part of their commonly shared pass time. Back home during holidays had us tuck away all these luxuries- spoons, knives, fingers at work digging, tugging and licking till there could never be enough of it. Most wanted and much loved choices of childhood they used to be…. …….or so I thought. Today at my half-way...

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The Aztecs and the Incas of the first century in the Common Era used this as a remedy for toothache.

Though I do not belong there, my knowledge of it did begin decades ago through a tale told about a circus lion who had it bad when it stuck onto the roof of his mouth.

Many of you may have by now guessed what this object of my appreciation would be, however, let me take a little digress talking about its kinfolk.

Only about a couple of weeks back, a very dear one packaged a bottle full of Jam made by her very loving and dexterous hands and expertise; let me tell you that with the first spoonful came a deluge of memories flooding my head.

Reminisces of Jars-full of Jellies and Jams which my parents spent in making (besides others), while utilizing a great part of their commonly shared pass time. Back home during holidays had us tuck away all these luxuries- spoons, knives, fingers at work digging, tugging and licking till there could never be enough of it.

Most wanted and much loved choices of childhood they used to be….

…….or so I thought.

Today at my half-way mark on life’s road when I should have out-grown much of the caprices that would take first place in one’s juvenile quirks and fancies I have to own up to not having been able to shake this one off ( yet).

Yes, dear readers, I make a clean breast and plead guilty of this acknowledgement that I cannot repress my fondness of this particular spread on my bread – The Peanut Butter!

I cannot deny it its deserving tribute: this golden aromatic soft smoothness in all of its entire roasted nutty flavor, reigning supreme as it holds sway over every cracker, slice of bread- toasted or plain, indeed over almost everything it swathes. Compatibly it blends in, congruently harmonizing with such incomparable versatility – be it as a savory salad dip, a chocolate accompaniment, a banana split topping, a simple plain stand alone snack or to my very surprise , as an ice cream treat – its taste stands inferior to none .

What’s more, besides its appetizing competence it has been scientifically proven to have a handy aptitude in promoting good health and nutrition, providing energy and a certain sustained fullness that could be a dieter’s support in keeping unwanted snacking and weight-gain at bay.

Peanut butter was discovered a long time ago and despite the alterations or modifications that it may have undergone I know that it will ever remain an all time top-of-the-list favourite. Did I hear somebody second that?

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Weather the Weather https://easternmirrornagaland.com/weather-the-weather/ Sat, 15 Jul 2017 18:05:51 +0000 http://www.easternmirrornagaland.com/?p=126610 Overcast, Cloudy, Gloomy, Grey, Dull, and Dreary. Take your pick; Synonymous each of the other, apt too for a daily forecast. Terms you’d hear the weatherman also use perhaps to talk about a day sans sunshine and blue skies across the country at this time of year. Many a mind perchance carrying this wishful deliberation: ‘Oh to be tucked snug in bed, with one’s favourite paperback or movie, over a mug of hot chocolate’… Me? I introspect. My mind takes a quick traverse to years gone by and back. Change? There hasn’t been much of. Yes, to be sheltered secure and warm is temptation foremost, but under the covers is a far cry for me. Always has been. To me, eight is just the needed hours, ( as nature would have it), as sufficient for rest and relaxation; beyond which I would think squandered and misused. An unexplained overpowering, stifling restlessness usually would creep in whenever I found myself confined within for a prolonged period of time. To be standing under an open sky, a stroll down a street, a lane even, is, by far, a treat I’ve known myself to take great pleasure in and still know to be...

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Overcast, Cloudy, Gloomy, Grey, Dull, and Dreary. Take your pick; Synonymous each of the other, apt too for a daily forecast.

Terms you’d hear the weatherman also use perhaps to talk about a day sans sunshine and blue skies across the country at this time of year.

Many a mind perchance carrying this wishful deliberation: ‘Oh to be tucked snug in bed, with one’s favourite paperback or movie, over a mug of hot chocolate’…

Me? I introspect.

My mind takes a quick traverse to years gone by and back.

Change? There hasn’t been much of. Yes, to be sheltered secure and warm is temptation foremost, but under the covers is a far cry for me. Always has been.

To me, eight is just the needed hours, ( as nature would have it), as sufficient for rest and relaxation; beyond which I would think squandered and misused.

An unexplained overpowering, stifling restlessness usually would creep in whenever I found myself confined within for a prolonged period of time.

To be standing under an open sky, a stroll down a street, a lane even, is, by far, a treat I’ve known myself to take great pleasure in and still know to be utterly appreciative of.

For as far back as I can retrace, as a child I see myself mostly outdoors with Dad, if my sisters busied themselves with time to try new recipes or pick tips to sew, from Mother, outside the four walls was my place; come rain or shine, engrossing myself in discoveries of sorts that the outdoors had such a plethora of was what I enjoyed best.

As a young adult, even the city streets, would beckon me though overcrowded and polluted, to be out there rather than being another onlooker from behind the precincts of grilled windows.

In college, when one was but a bundle of vivaciousness – vividly do I recall a day when a holiday was declared. A dreadful rainy day it turned out to be. What a wet blanket of a day! In anticipation to ‘spend’ the holiday well, I checked with friends on their plans. Almost every one of them had them set – to stay indoors. ‘Just the right day to snuggle in and laze!’ was what I got.

That didn’t stand as a thwart to my impulse so, geared with umbrella and a good pair of walking shoes as companions, I stepped out. I didn’t have a destination, only time, fresh air, a sky pouring down rain, puddles, and the road beneath my feet. A step at a time I walked on and on at my own pace, for as far as my heart and feet carried me, inhaling the freshness of sodden soil soaking in the rain, the plants and trees looked complete, washed sprightly clean with sparkling jewelled drops glistening on them , there was a clean crispness in every breath of air. The incessant patter of raindrops drumming on my umbrella, the swooshing splash of puddles big and small created around me liveliness in everyone and everything that only another spanking new day as that could have given me. I couldn’t have asked for more.

Much as I would have liked it to, time didn’t stand still, and I had to get back, possibly a tad exhausted but saturated with the exuberance of having spent this entire day experiencing in complete revelry the joy of the outdoors, bars withholding.

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Of a Special Hue https://easternmirrornagaland.com/of-a-special-hue/ Sat, 01 Jul 2017 17:56:02 +0000 http://www.easternmirrornagaland.com/?p=124166 One’s choice of favourite colours, it says, alters time to time. I hold it to be true. Mine shifted from Yellow to Pink to Blue. The attraction, be it physiological, psychological or simply an appeal to one’s mood, frame of mind or senses, I cannot elucidate or explicate. As for mingled shades, the blend mixes even so, doubly capture and invite my attention. Let me confess however that browns, maroons and certain shades of green do not in any way catch my fancy. What then am I doing, vouching for this particular hue called Sepia? Many of you, dear readers would undoubtedly have a clear knowledge of it since its introduction, and now, rather regular use. This tinge of reddish-brown and grey tone has been found to add a certain charm of the old-world when used in photography and seems to have caught up in popularity. I was drawn to this engaging tone through a friend’s painting of a profile that I had seen displayed on my sister’s drawing room wall. In total variance from an assortment of colours, this sketch of a woman painted within the restricted mono -colour scheme still was capable of capturing interest even from a...

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One’s choice of favourite colours, it says, alters time to time. I hold it to be true. Mine shifted from Yellow to Pink to Blue. The attraction, be it physiological, psychological or simply an appeal to one’s mood, frame of mind or senses, I cannot elucidate or explicate. As for mingled shades, the blend mixes even so, doubly capture and invite my attention. Let me confess however that browns, maroons and certain shades of green do not in any way catch my fancy. What then am I doing, vouching for this particular hue called Sepia? Many of you, dear readers would undoubtedly have a clear knowledge of it since its introduction, and now, rather regular use. This tinge of reddish-brown and grey tone has been found to add a certain charm of the old-world when used in photography and seems to have caught up in popularity.

I was drawn to this engaging tone through a friend’s painting of a profile that I had seen displayed on my sister’s drawing room wall. In total variance from an assortment of colours, this sketch of a woman painted within the restricted mono -colour scheme still was capable of capturing interest even from a distance.

Ever since, there’s been a lure of an enticement drawing me to this fusion.

As I sat one evening, gathering my thoughts, I found staring back at me, a collage; an amalgamation of sketched portraits that I had once put together and framed. Portraits are my all-time favourite and this was a collection of them. Each feature on every countenance could not be missed, so skilfully did the artist use the brush and dye to highlight and conceal, blot out and emphasise.

Young Indian village belles; some shy, some full of glee, some pensive, some guarded, each articulating a representation of an expression clearly illustrated and enhanced. And you may well guess , friends, that the creator of these beautiful faces was able to bring out the best of these vivid expressions with a reddish-brown monochrome colour- Sepia.

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Of an Accessory https://easternmirrornagaland.com/of-an-accessory/ Sat, 24 Jun 2017 18:14:36 +0000 http://www.easternmirrornagaland.com/?p=122969 Dainty, Flirty, Firm, Serious, Sporty, Officious, Bizarre, Rugged, Playful, Smart, each of a choice and of a style all its own. Sported by many. One for every occasion. I love them , and I stand not alone. Many besides, I have found, who are equally ardent if not more, for this cover of a guise called the HAT! Mainly a Spruce-up to one’s attire and appearance, turning it around according to its style, the Hat plays a very important role, in that, it transmits the mood of the wearer, creating and even exuding , an image real or put-on. I was astounded by the enormity of the variety when once on a shopping spree, I happened upon a section for Hats only. The choice, one far too many for me to handle, had me stumped. Each Hat was more beautifully styled than the other, the displays were exquisitely striking, the selecting torturous. Distracted by each one’s loveliness, my head was in a whirl. I longed for them all. Lustfully I slobbered over each piece till I could slobber no more. Slowly I scanned my surrounding in this vast field of Hat collections, sopping up as many and as far as...

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Dainty, Flirty, Firm, Serious, Sporty, Officious, Bizarre, Rugged, Playful, Smart, each of a choice and of a style all its own.

Sported by many.

One for every occasion.

I love them , and I stand not alone.

Many besides, I have found, who are equally ardent if not more, for this cover of a guise called the HAT!

Mainly a Spruce-up to one’s attire and appearance, turning it around according to its style, the Hat plays a very important role, in that, it transmits the mood of the wearer, creating and even exuding , an image real or put-on.

I was astounded by the enormity of the variety when once on a shopping spree, I happened upon a section for Hats only. The choice, one far too many for me to handle, had me stumped. Each Hat was more beautifully styled than the other, the displays were exquisitely striking, the selecting torturous. Distracted by each one’s loveliness, my head was in a whirl. I longed for them all. Lustfully I slobbered over each piece till I could slobber no more. Slowly I scanned my surrounding in this vast field of Hat collections, sopping up as many and as far as my eyes could reach I added them to my cartload- of- a -wish-list.

Content to having feasted my eyes on such a vast array, I couldn’t have returned from my holiday visit that year without one, so I did. One to my name I made sure to have included to my treasured possessions alright; One that would be used for purposes practical, concurrently parallel for its prettiness.

That said and done, I’d like to draw your thoughts dear readers to the kind we each don every other day. Without much of a visual image we place it atop almost in an auto mode involuntarily. The shift in gear occurs without a glitch, transitioning into the mood and character with an unconscious oiled smoothness lying oblivious till it results in tangible effects.

Hats tagged leader, friend, parent, child, guide, servant, partner, warrior, peacemaker lie in the order of their multiple assorted selection waiting to be picked. One for every occasion is slipped on and off often in quick succession transiting with the bat of an eyelid.

Thanks then to this accessory accomplice, the Hat, which is the abettor of most of our success stories- may it always bring on and reflect the best angle of each image accessorized and represented.

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Giving in Perfect Spirit https://easternmirrornagaland.com/giving-in-perfect-spirit/ Sat, 17 Jun 2017 18:06:55 +0000 http://www.easternmirrornagaland.com/?p=121773 A purple balloon, even taller than he, was the gift he had carried for his teacher on her birthday. She thanked him for it and told him that he could take it for himself, the little nine year old refused, he had brought it only for her. This was conceivably the simplest gift she had received that day, but her appreciation of it was sure to have been her best ever, all because it was possibly the best thing he could give and which he did, with his heart. Today dear readers, I take it upon myself to get us some insight on what a little giving from the heart could mean to someone. Giving, as we know it, is an ‘act of kindness ’. What I ask is: can it truly be termed acts of kindnesses if performed out of a sense of duty or for the sake of doing what is expected, as a ritual, a convention, tradition, an obligation or even a formal procedure? Are we among those who give, mainly with the intent, of getting back some form of returns? My perception of this undertaking would then be nothing but a business bargain which would falsely...

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A purple balloon, even taller than he, was the gift he had carried for his teacher on her birthday. She thanked him for it and told him that he could take it for himself, the little nine year old refused, he had brought it only for her.

This was conceivably the simplest gift she had received that day, but her appreciation of it was sure to have been her best ever, all because it was possibly the best thing he could give and which he did, with his heart.

Today dear readers, I take it upon myself to get us some insight on what a little giving from the heart could mean to
someone.

Giving, as we know it, is an ‘act of kindness ’. What I ask is: can it truly be termed acts of kindnesses if performed out of a sense of duty or for the sake of doing what is expected, as a ritual, a convention, tradition, an obligation or even a formal procedure?

Are we among those who give, mainly with the intent, of getting back some form of returns? My perception of this undertaking would then be nothing but a business bargain which would falsely be termed ‘giving’ as such a form definitely would demand its proceeds.

Another thought that provokes my assessment – Are we selective of why or how much to give and to whom? Is there a patterned lay-out or fixed blueprint such as : generously to those who have enough and meagrely to those who have less? Is giving for the benefactor’s applaud? If so, would that not stand for superficial shallow insincerity?

The phenomenon of giving ought to feel good, not solely due to a release of endorphins, (those feel-good chemicals nowadays termed a “helper’s high”), but because we know that we’re lifting someone else’s spirits.

Deliberate contemplation on what and how we can give meaningfully would be unpretentious and effortless if we made a conscious attempt at selflessly placing the need of another’s foremost to the desire of satisfying our own.

What? Is the next interrogate. What do we give? Is the recipient’s prerequisite or preference the priority, or is it the giver’s selection which takes first place? Most habitually the thing that appeals to the giver is singled out without much reflection towards the receiver’s choice or requirement, I’d say.

The solution then is revealed when our perspective stands at – what bit of kindness would elevate positive feelings in another? What would stir up that someone’s cheer and delight?

Receiving, it is said, activates the brain’s reward centre, a phenomenon hard to explain but easy to feel. Think back to the last time a stranger held the door for you, or a friend just put an arm around you. One little act that lighted up your face should help empathise and inspire what we can give to boost someone’s happiness and thereby ours.

No great feats but one simple, kind word genuinely spoken, a hug given for no reason at all, a little time spent sitting by someone taking an interest in their opinions even if it may not match your own, concern and understanding expressed on another’s circumstances. All things that may appear very insignificantly inconsequential to some, trifling and negligible perhaps, but these are those that astoundingly have, I trust, the best effects and outcomes both in the giver as much as it has in the recipient.

I leave you with a prayer: May we give a little deliberation, purposeful thought and consideration to our ‘giving’. How do we do it? What is our actual drive and intent towards giving?

The gift, however simple, we can define will be received with sheer delight and indebtedness if only given with true heart and perfect spirit. May we always bear that right spirit.

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Of Indebtedness Perfectly Uttered https://easternmirrornagaland.com/of-indebtedness-perfectly-uttered/ Sat, 10 Jun 2017 17:08:06 +0000 http://www.easternmirrornagaland.com/?p=120429   Mulling over, an abundance of numerous remarkable pleasures of life flood my mind for which we may consciously and willingly sound our appreciation for. The ‘simple’ pleasures however, are the ones easily and often overlooked and taken for granted. Too mundane, unimportant and ordinary or just plain and simply too regular to be mentioned perhaps, is what they’re taken to be. Sharing with you this week I bring what someone willingly had brought forward, having been moved by expressions of pure gratitude perfectly uttered in simple candour, by those who carry a heart full of overwhelming indebtedness. It happened all on one Sunday afternoon when this friend of mine took time off to visit the extension of his member church. This particular congregation was formed to foster and encourage many among the community there who needed spiritual guidance and sustenance. It was an insignificantly numbered assembly, in one tiny room, of eager faces; Faces that reflected struggle on every one of them. Some of greater measures some of a lesser, but unmistakeably apparent it defiantly stared . As the worship progressed, time and opportunity approached for members of the congregation to share what they wished in their hearts to...

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Mulling over, an abundance of numerous remarkable pleasures of life flood my mind for which we may consciously and willingly sound our appreciation for. The ‘simple’ pleasures however, are the ones easily and often overlooked and taken for granted. Too mundane, unimportant and ordinary or just plain and simply too regular to be mentioned perhaps, is what they’re taken to be.

Sharing with you this week I bring what someone willingly had brought forward, having been moved by expressions of pure gratitude perfectly uttered in simple candour, by those who carry a heart full of overwhelming indebtedness.

It happened all on one Sunday afternoon when this friend of mine took time off to visit the extension of his member church. This particular congregation was formed to foster and encourage many among the community there who needed spiritual guidance and sustenance. It was an insignificantly numbered assembly, in one tiny room, of eager faces; Faces that reflected struggle on every one of them. Some of greater measures some of a lesser, but unmistakeably apparent it defiantly stared .

As the worship progressed, time and opportunity approached for members of the congregation to share what they wished in their hearts to glorify God about or to offer requests to be taken up in prayer.

As each member stepped forward one could not miss the glow and radiance on each countenance. Those perceptible signs of struggle were replaced with a sparkling afterglow in every eye. An outpour of expressions of overjoyed hearts filled with thankfulness flowed, welling from the depths, for things they deemed luxuries.

“Thank you God for the extra money to be able to plug my leaking roof”;
“Thank you Father for the Kerosene I was able to buy so that the children can study at night”;
“Thank you Lord for dry firewood you provided to enable me cook a meal for the family”;
“Thank you Jesus for soap to wash clothes and have a bath”;
“Thank you for a job for my brother, father, husband;”
“Thank you for clean drinking water”;

Anyone with a trace of humanity couldn’t have sat dry-eyed in that gathering. Sincere humble gratitude of this magnitude is hardly an easy come-by today. My friend left with a moistened eye that evening, but with him, he also carried back, more importantly, an insight and perception far greater, of what being thankful essentially meant. Life does have God-given pleasures in uncountable measure to be truly appreciative of.

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Of a Fetish – Of The Umb-rella https://easternmirrornagaland.com/of-a-fetish-of-the-umb-rella/ Sat, 03 Jun 2017 18:31:33 +0000 http://www.easternmirrornagaland.com/?p=119196 When Rihanna sang –“Under my Um -berella –ella-ella-eh…” she could have well been singing about a fixation or an obsession of the Umbrella, but though it may have sounded so, I surmise it isn’t. Mine is. A Fetish, that is. Not of the true or rather, extreme type, but yes, it could be termed to be the kind of a sure ‘fancy’ for Umbrellas. Then again, not the expected run for every one of them, but of only those of the Mary Poppin type – long-handled, slim sleek and elegant. The one’s that carry with it a ‘chutzpah’ Worship it I do not, however. Several, to my name I have had, owned, loved and lost. The Raven-black , the chocolate brown check edged, one with the red handle and border, transparent with brightly coloured scattered letters, another, floral,wooden handled, the dotted black and white with frilled edges. The big polka dotted and…. the list extends. Fond farewells remain, for they have served me well –as weather shield, defense armor, support fortification and statement of style, and I loving everyone of them with equal ardour. There, you have it! What I’m going to share next is for you to relish and...

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When Rihanna sang –“Under my Um -berella –ella-ella-eh…” she could have well been singing about a fixation or an obsession of the Umbrella, but though it may have sounded so, I surmise it isn’t.

Mine is. A Fetish, that is. Not of the true or rather, extreme type, but yes, it could be termed to be the kind of a sure ‘fancy’ for Umbrellas. Then again, not the expected run for every one of them, but of only those of the Mary Poppin type – long-handled, slim sleek and elegant. The one’s that carry with it a ‘chutzpah’ Worship it I do not, however.

Several, to my name I have had, owned, loved and lost. The Raven-black , the chocolate brown check edged, one with the red handle and border, transparent with brightly coloured scattered letters, another, floral,wooden handled, the dotted black and white with frilled edges. The big polka dotted and…. the list extends. Fond farewells remain, for they have served me well –as weather shield, defense armor, support fortification and statement of style, and I loving everyone of them with equal ardour. There, you have it!

What I’m going to share next is for you to relish and tag a line on.

…bashful she appeared …she was smiling…. head bent she stole a glance and lowered her eyes… couldn’t see the blush but the ecstasy she expressed was clear for all. Time and time again she came right back for that stolen peek at her subject of devotion. Unfathomable it remains but the veneration and sustained admiration holds a certain awe and mystery.

Golden brown and femininely petite, this little Pomeranian was making her shy trips to and fro from the cupboard and back. With a wag of her lowered tail, shy smiling glances and half lowered eyes she barely lifted her tiny head to acknowledge the presence of the Umbrella as it hung at its usual place at the side of the cupboard. A sudden unearthing and one so bafflingly mystifying, the family session’d brainstorms in decoding this curious comportment.

No track trace could lead us to a clear inferred wrap –up but that this was little Betsy’s fetish for the Brolly – a common connect for Betsy and me.

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