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February Balm

My February sails smoothly in the calm sea of Manipur. She has a date with me in the wilds and heaths of this magical land with light blue sky and mild sunshine. Every year in the thickets and bowers of rural Manipur she lies in wait for me. I have already received a message from her this year also. But I fail to keep my promise. I don’t know whether she feels sorry for my indifference. The reason is I am too busy with my works and other social obligations. But this procrastination is bad. I may miss the beauteous displays my sweet-heart February may make in her prime which may fade as the mild sun­shine ripens with each passing day. Tarry, sweet lady! I am coming.

But it turns out to be an empty premise, the daily killings, abductions, the interminable strife for money, the all-out attempts for possession of power and worldly things make Manipur and myself very busy. To top it all, law and order experiences a total breakdown—nobody even the Government seems to care for it. But Manipur goes on. At least, voices of sanity, even, if squeaky, work silently. There is a small dose of sanity amidst the insanity which at least functions as Manipur’s life-support. But the February sunshine has another story to tell. “Enjoy me to feel heavenly delight or else meet excruciating pain in the pursuit of vain power and lucre,” she exclaims.

This February is somewhat dry and dusty in the absence of rain. A few showers enhance the beauty of the landscape normally. It cleanses the face of nature and keeps the dust in captivity. Anyway, February walks on gorgeously. But a slight drizzle in a night of mid February did not change its dusty face much still. She is a paragon of beauty.

I have to enjoy it this year in my home with the least satisfaction. Still I don’t intend to chalk out a program for a rendezvous with Nature under February backdrop.

Second week over, I grow nervous. Hardly 15 days left to have a tryst with her.

But one afternoon, all of a sudden, her loving hands drag me out of my house and carry me first to a heath far from the madding crowd and bare my all to give me celestial delight. My earthly apparel which weighed me down for so many months was taken off. I am as lithe as an April lark and hum a tune to celebrate the pre-spring orgies of Nature identified by red sunlight and gusts of wind. The whistling winds accompanied my joyous song. I am again carried to a hill-side in the east and then to a thicket and a grove.

February has nothing to show fairer than this afternoon with the mildest sunshine and serenest sky visible around. Life, human life, my life—all do mingle with February fonning a good and delightful chemistry which I wish to last forever. We are born only for this and not for the glitters and dazzling brilliance of material civilization. We can be transported to a world of fulfilled emotions and hearty satiety.

I become a new man. Fresh, re-activated and re-charged. Instantaneously, Heaven descends on me and enacts a many-splendored show. I bare my soul and become one with the whistling wind—an ecstatic experience. I become a healthy and young man again.

Suddenly this truth dawns upon me that unabated and intermittent fever makes a patient prone to convulsion and death. Limit of endurance being over, a patient with incessant fever collapses and stands on the threshold of Death. Relief and respite, even though for a very short period, makes a person recharged and strong to combat another bout of fever which is a medical wisdom.

Manipur has been in high fever for so many years without any respite. Naturally a convulsion awaits Manipur.

Let February be a paracetamol for Manipur. This majestic month be declared “a Ceasefire Month every year.” From 1st February to 28th February every year, let there be no sound of gun, no abduction, no conflict, no bloodshed and no enmity. This is my wish.

*The article is written by Sanasam Umananda

(Courtesy: The Sangai Express)

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