Dimapur – A place that just isn’t home, it’s an emotion in itself. I was born, brought up and spoilt there. There are many adjectives I can use, but the word ‘Home’ in itself sums it up. A place which contradicts itself in more than one way, from being one of the largest cities of Northeast India, to a place where there are more potholes than roads and more vehicles than pedestrians.

That apart, being born and raised in Dimapur was not just a blessing; it was perhaps the good karma of my previous life. A third generation ‘Plain Maanu’, that’s what I am. While growing up I had never known or heard of this particular categorization. More than being just another non-local, or as I am often referred to – ‘Plain Maanu’ , I consider myself a ‘Naga’, not by birth, not by blood but by heart, by choice, just for the immense love I have for the people, the culture and the place.

I was raised amongst the Nagas, studied in a convent, and it never felt odd, from conversing with them in Nagamese, to sharing whatever we had in our lunchboxes, never did I feel out of place. From developing the taste for smoked pork to my musical choice, it was all influenced by them. The Naga sense of humor is unique, and this to an extent influenced my sarcastic behavior.
From Cobain to Axl Rose at school to Rabindra Sangeet at home, it was kind of a mixed upbringing I had. The way I eat, talk, dress, sing, interact with people and even my sense of humor has that peculiar intrinsic Naga essence in it. The aroma of bamboo shoots, axone and anishe is something I grew up on. I still go around looking for places where they serve Naga Cuisine; the love affair with ‘baas tenga’ and ‘akhuni’ shall never end. So much so that I’ll always prefer pork with bamboo shoot over Bhapa Illish.

The only thing that perhaps then differentiated me and to this day is the way I look, the way I think is still and will continue to be like any other Naga guy of my generation.
That said, and talking of mixed upbringing, Nagas all around at school and a typical conservative Bengali way of life at home, it wasn’t confusing but rather a multi-dimensional way of shaping myself, my thought process up and the stamp remains. To this day, a Bengali Bhadralok and a Naga Warrior keep contradicting each other, but as they say it’s all in the mind. I relish both the Bhapa Illish and the pork with bamboo shoot, with a mug of rice beer.

To this day, my college mates address me as ‘Naga’, from the gate-man of the college to my HoD never knew my name, my identity – a guy from Nagaland, who eats pork, listens to metal, and dresses like a punk. I loved the name, I still do, and for them I will always be ‘Naga’. An identity that will forever remain etched in the minds of people who knew me in college, not just another guy I was, however mediocre I might have been, my identity of being someone from a place they had only heard of did make me feel special, it did make me love my place of birth even more. As, I write this piece I feel proud as the Chancellor of my University happens to be a Naga himself.

But yes, there was an identity crisis brewing within, who was I? I have lots of Naga friends with whom I get along extremely well, drink, dance and make them parcel home cooked pork too, but there were a few who did question my identity, ‘Plain Maanu’ after all, and perhaps for the first time in 28 years it made me think, ponder and contemplate, I found the question utterly disgusting, that tag just too racist. And then, I found my answer too, if there were just a couple of them questioning, tagging and labeling me, I had perhaps hundreds of others who knew me, know me. Nagas, who knew what I was, not just another ‘Plain Maanu’; but one like them, although not genetically, but by choice had embraced the Naga way of life. And, talking of people being racists, we all are, perhaps there are more ethnic clashes in India than anywhere else in the world. So, just another question, another tag won’t let me down, it’s all in the mind and especially for me it’s all in the heart. A NAGA by heart I am, I don’t need to flaunt it, don’t have to show it. My looks can’t and won’t define my identity ever. A Bong and a Naga, that’s me, how much of what? I have no answers for that.

P.S: Yes, I am a Plain Maanu (non-local), I am proud of it and I am equally proud of being raised in Nagaland. That’s my identity, crisis for you probably. And it doesn’t bother me. What I am bothered about is the quantity of rice beer in the mug right now, refill please!!