It was almost nine years since I last saw my town, Dimapur, until I recently moved back in town. The building-up of a busy traffic and the newly built apartments were changes that first stole my sight. I hold no guilt for permitting my anticipation run high about the new town I am expected to explore. The freshly opened restaurants, clubs, labeled shops, cafés and hotels have swallowed my old Dimapur. I called the changes, a whirlpool of development. I hope my fellow country-citizens would not mind, but on one account, our evermore passion for fashion has not change a speck. Call it the guilty-pleasure, chic minds.
An eleven years old girl (cousin) is my guide. My conversation with the guide is entirely in English, and that’s something I couldn’t do when I was eleven. My guide told me, “When I grow up, the last thing she would become is a travel journalist.” To win her over, I keep telling her, “My job does not only take me to new places but also become a tourist guide.” During our conversation, my guide is always busy looking for new vocabularies and pay extra attention to her grammar. She wants to sound good and one good thing I appreciate in her is that, every time she has a doubt, she look up to me.
About a week ago, when we were out for a coffee, I felt the need to use an ATM. I ran out of cash-money, we therefore, walked to an SBI ATM. I noticed the ATM booth was empty, but a man got to the booth a few seconds ahead of us. We waited outside the booth while the man filled his pocket with money. Meanwhile, I asked my guide, “Do you see the print on the door? It says, ONE PERSON AT A TIME.” She nodded. Soon it was my turn to use the money machine, so I asked my guide, “Do you want to come inside?” Without a hesitation, she replied, “No, I better stay out.” I was inside the ATM booth, but before I could even slide in the plastic card inside, a man on a speeding vehicle parked the car right-outside the booth. I saw the dust go in the air and within seconds he was inside the ATM booth.
I saw that he was looking at the ATM screen, I didn’t feel so good. So, I turned to him and said, “Please do you mind waiting outside? This place is one person at a time.” To my utter surprise, he replied, “I am an Engineer.” I, in all honesty didn’t expect that respond from an ENGINEER, who was in his late 50’s. I beseeched him again to leave, but on noticing that the Engineer had no intention of waiting outside the booth, I told him, “All right, Engineer, please use the machine, I’ll wait outside.” He used the machine and left without even saying “Thank You.”
I was lost in thoughts, but moments later, my guide eased me, “Don’t feel bad. Their generation is very bad. Once their generation is gone, Nagaland will be a better place to live.” Who on earth embossed such thought on an eleven years old? Or is it the demon of changes for a better tomorrow stimulating her brain? Well, perhaps she is right. But I am not judging anyone from one ATM experience. Who said education is a destination? Education is a process. Are we educating everyday to suit in a world that is swift before us? Or are we endangering ourselves with our little knowledge?
Travel and Social Events Journalist
