Kohima, Khonoma, 12th May, 2008

We left for Kohima early as usual. The bus ride was uneventful except for the usual clothes being torn by the seats' sharp edges and people drooling on one another. We woke up when the bus halted in front of the War Memorial. I peered out to see the city of Kohima. Sleepy and reluctant, I climbed out of the bus. As I entered the site, the first thing I noticed was the very English feel to the place. The pretty roses and daisies lined up placidly in the shade of the neat rows of the trees seemed to smile at us and our ignorance. The plaques stood at corners commanding our attention. A stone path wound up to the top of the hill like a stairway to heaven.

I walked along noting the various emblems of the regiments, reading the epitaphs. Some written by parents, some by wives, others by friends. Most of the soldiers were in their early twenties. Charlie, 21, who was 'a wonderful boy, loved by all'. Leslie, 24, 'who lived to the fullest and fought his best'. A 25 year old who 'couldn't live to see his baby'.

And then it sunk. These people were my age when they died. Twenty odd years to live. That's it. Life is not made of plans and plans don't make life. Plans never work. All goes down the drain when somethings are just cut out for you. So if you plan and delay gratification, think again. You might just not be around to see those plans work out. If you're cribbing about not having the life you want, work today, better still, now, towards getting it. You've got just one chance. Use it. Forgive and forget. Live your life. Not your age.

I was so engrossed with it all that I didn't realise when Sir called out to everyone to board the bus. I didn't see the rest of them. Later they told me that I missed the regiments where there were Hindu and Muslim soldiers. I'm glad I missed it coz they were even younger.

We went to the museum where there were many interesting things to see. The colours, the jewels, the tools. Fascinating how one small state can have 9 different tribes and all 9 of them, although so close to one another, so varied and different from the others. Many worlds in one.

Next we went to Khonoma. A clean village. Utopian in the true sense. Would love to go and live there, probably take up a teaching job. Everything was so systematic - dust bins at every corner, solar panels, and at the same time tradition upheld - dorms for boys til they reach puberty, traditional pillars as a sign of prosperity if one gives something to the village. We even met a basket weaver who had won the President's award. People found a huge rifle that's carried by 3 people. Many posed with it. I played the dutiful photographer.

We returned to Kohima to the SP's residence where he hosted a royal lunch for us. The setting was perfect. I felt like a delegate at some fancy symposium. After lunch, we hung out at the gardens with a misty view of the city. Empty minds - you-know-who's workshops. The Crusades began - Aditi, Swedyl, the other girls and me on one side while Anish, Dhiren, Mihir (the traitor), Glen, Mini and Lyandra on the other. Priyanjali was the self proclaimed Commander-in-Chief who got whacked too. Akul was the paparazzi who couldn't escape the thrashing either. He even sacrificed his chappals to the noble cause. Sanjay palyed the grandfather till he was threatened. We're still trying to figure out what the cause was though. Can't believe I got dragged into those murky waters.

In the evening we met the Founder of The Naga Mothers Association, Padmashree Angami. It was nice to listen to her, except that I dozed off for a few minutes. The SP had been Sir's student and I saw a picture of him at Indore where he was a student at the Central Instt of Warfare and Tactics. It's a small world.

This was officially the last session and the end seemed closer. Much closer.