By Bobo Khuraijam
Bowel muscles have worked overtime. At this time of the year, when the souls of the departed is believed to be nearest with us, Usop-Luncheon queued up in a series. So, knowing little of the meaning of the occasion, we have attended usop after usop. Tasted many hands, from the home-delivery chaaksangs to the home-cooked chaaksangs; oily and spicy bamons to salty bamons; super-efficient bamons to grumpy bamons, we drooled ourselves with delight. We sat on the printed pages of the newspaper to save water and washing powder. A mayang friend had once queried on her debut usop. Why newspapers were distributed to everyone just before the lunch? She got the front page of Times of India, 2010 edition. It heightens her confusion. She had a stint in that media house some years back. We told her that she was lucky. An opportunity to rest herself on top of the paper she had worked with. What! Yes, we are going to sit over the newspaper and lunch. She swallowed our uniqueness with the Pakoura. One would say it is a matter of personal choice. We have never liked the taste of pakoura consommé. Worst when it is served cold mostly with the home-delivery one. For the record, the Vaisnavite neighbor washing his hand into the plate after lunch is even more tasteless. No wonder that it has become a mass practice;anemblem of pious filiation, perhaps.
THE LESSON IS: Indigestion prompted us to seek solace into the enquiry of why so many usops in a month. The Tarpon usop, as in parlance, is part of a belief system. A system followed by the Manipuri Vaisnavites. They got no education of the practice as none had taught them. For that very matter, most children of Manipuri Vaisnav have grown up learning nothing of the myriad ceremonies involved. Ceremonies like birth, death and marriages which areaccompanied by elaborate rituals is best left to the Bamon and Araangpham. They only seem to know everything. The rest are sleepwalkers in the obfuscated landscape of Dharma Shastra. Agreed that Self-Realization is one of the chief tenets of this religion, how ‘self’ can be a realization without none to preach, and no place to learn.All that we remember from childhood was to wait for the prayer till it gets over. And jump in to snatch one’s share of the fruits offered. Adulthood does not make any difference either, exceptbecoming a blithe observer.Well, in our attempt of an enquiry of this practice, a little we did learn. Yes, a little. A good amount of knowledge is a matter of cerebral constipation in a crash course, particularly which are built on a shaky foundation. Nonetheless, we are told that it is ancestor veneration. It is believed that at the month of Mera, souls of the ancestors are nearest to the living world. They have ability to influence the fortune of the living. For a positive disposition of the souls prayers are offered to them. Married daughters visit parental home to offer hei-ra for the Tarpon. Luncheons are offered to friends and relatives. All these would please the ancestors. Are they?
OLD IS COLD: Our heart swells with pride after knowing a little. We could not resist the temptation of showing what we know. As you know, Leipung is the obvious ground for displaying our knowledge-skills. We have tried to imagine potential souls who are worth of veneration in the days to come. Some outstanding species could be those God-fearing faces who have retired from public life. Now, a regular visitor of the Govindajee with Chandon-chawa; who was then, a public figure, famously known for garnering a vast amount of wealth; which rightfully belong to others.Most of them have honorary membership in the priesthood of mendaciousness. Innocent-looking faces, who have no qualms in ruining lives of others who are weak and helpless. Respectable old faces who constantly live with the fear that younger generation would overtake them.They would boss every second that they have been around more blocks, climbed more mountains and slayed more dragons.Their vicious dominance would thwart the growth of younger saplings.
Wrinkles, who have championed glorification of none, but self and only self. You see them daily everywhere. On the roads, they drive no better than the teenage in super-fast bikes. They would blow horn like the way they have blown their own trumpets in their entire life. Traffic rules are just rules to them. They would steal chances to jump queue in a bank. They are given the coveted name ‘senior’, who purportedly deserve respect. An uncomfortable fact is species of suck kind are the majority in this part of the world. Some Leipung members assert that cleansing the land call Manipur should begin with those faces, those guiltless pensioners with a rod. They sound too democratic. We silenced them with empty motivational thoughts. That in the month of Mera, when their souls are nearest to us, we shall venerate them in biggest possible way. We shall collect the finest of the Hei-raa from all the Ningols, in the biggest kangjeibung, near the largest pukhri; we shall spit on their names. Distribute the fruits to the orphanage. Request them not to carry out any tarpon for us.
FOOTNOTE: Ema Panthoibi arrived a little earlier than Mata Durga. Therefore Ema Panthoibi has the privilege of witnessing the tombola of ‘lucky number’ and ‘cassette dance’, which were not Her regular diet in the earlier days. Leipung Ningthou calls it, “number gi sathek, nikhaibi gi thougal”.