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Dame Sans
The fairy mizo land vis-a-vis the real mizo land
Travelling the world like a circumnavigator is always a subject of my attraction. It is indeed true that I can picturise places and people in my imagination sitting at home belonging to far-off places. What is the use of travel if I am taking my unhappy self with me on my journeys ? If so better keep at home ! I take extra care to be happy by living to the full in the present moment. That outlook has helped me a lot. I have clearly understood that fretting about future is foolish as it is totally uncertain even about our very existence tomorrow. Living thinking, complaining about the past is sheer waste of time as it is bygone. And they are never to revisit. Hence travelling takes me to the world of joy where I forget the past and future by living in the present moment.
In one of my such journeys I visited the North-East of India. I am here to relate about my trip to Mizoram, Mizoram belongs to the Seven Sisters Region of Southeast Asia, which consists of Arunachal Pradesh, Meghalaya, Manipur, Mizoram, Nagaland and Tripura.
This write-up is not about the whole eteranary but about a small episode on the way. When I was about to set foot on the land of Mizoram from the bus I was received with the shocking spectacle of a python.That too in the heart of the Capital town of Mizoram Aizwaal. Some Mizo people assembled and killed the snake in no time. Things went on as if nothing had happened . But I had a feeling that I had landed on an alien soil.
There was four hours waiting for the departure of the Sumo Jeep to Champhai bordering with Myaanmar (former Burma)whereto was I destined to go.The jeep driver was a happy-go-lucky chap. During the six hour Jeep journey I curiously looked out to see the people and the places on the way-side. Everywhere I could see the unfailing presence of the Fair Sex. The women-folk looked more beautiful than the lack-lustre men. The women seemed more responsible and for that reason more powerful eevrywhere. The status there looked apparently opposite when pitted against the conditions in Kerala. . The women wooed men, took initiative and men conducted shy and reluctant.I noticed bonny lasses selling vegetables on the way-side. The jeep made a halt. I went out to the women to know the price of the vegetables (also to have a close look at the women) One of the women vendors poked at my driver and gave a kiss on his hand in the open. He seemed to enjoy that. Of course there were such incidents throughout the journey. I felt jealosy to the driver. Not only the women were beautiful but the nature too. Wow! the Landscape! the mountains unending! One mountain followed by another.In real life too man has to conquer one mountain after the other. O look at that! A big block of rock was rolling down on to the road from the mountain top: the driver saw it and accelerated and surpassed the risky spot . In consternation I turned back to know whether the rock had fallen on to the road. My goodness! I heard a thundering sound to see it falling on to the road and breaking into pieces.I was relieved to feel the close escape. The driver seemed to me a hero thereonwards.
I reached a place, namely, Kwazaal in Champhaii District where I had arranged my stay with my brother who was working there.. The location was inviting. There was biting cold too. Though it was only 5 p.m. the Sun had already gone beneath to permit darkness' advent. I had realised that as we went to north-east the Sun sets were earlier than the sunsets of the south.The Village town looked normal amd uneventful. I noticed barber shops, tea-shops etc., being run by women.
Next day I set off to the Champhaii town. This was a border town with Myaanmaar. I travelled a few miles more to see the border dividing the two nations.A small river divided the two nations. I saw that there was nothing indicative of an international border. There was no sign of Military forces either. People moved across to and fro without inhibition as if they were inhabitants of the same nation, nay, same village. People on either side looked identical and were of the same race or tribe. Their life-style looked the same. Human bonds challenged the man-made borders being demarcated in the name of nationhood. The state of Mizoram seemed totally unIndian to me.
I had the dream of crossing over to a foreign nation. I mentioned about it to one of the crew members. He agreed to take me to the other side of the river. On the bridge there was the Myaanmaar Forces. They took possesion of the Licence of our driver as surety and we were allowed to go to the other end.I quickly noticed the financial crisis that nation reeling under. The roads were not travel-worthy. We travelled into the heart of the village life of Myanmaar. The women were inviting and had the financial and domestic control of power. We had come to a lake-shore where the religious people used to take bath. The supernatural belief was that one who crossed the lake and set foot on the off-shore (he/she) would attain complete absolution from all his past deeds and misdeeds. People of Budhist faith used to come over there to do this penance ,from all-over the world. With reluctance I had to bid adieu to the land of Myaanmaar. I came back to my brother's by night. Next day I woke up late or so thought I. The piercing light of the morning sun forcefully opened my eyes agaist my own permission. When I looked at the watch it was only 5 a.m.! I went out for a sortie after the breakfast. I expected that I could see Budhist temples all over. But to my surprise I saw none. But I could see Churches mostly Protestant ones. Every organisation and Institution, even governmental was under the grip of the Mighty Church. The tribalism was giving way to supernatural Christian extremities and excesses, a genre of neo-tribalism.. The entire North-East was converted into Christian ways during British domination. Almost 100%of the population belonged to Christianity.
I had been there in the state of Mizoram for about ten days now .I am not attempting here to relate all my experiences there i had had, due to want of time. It was time to return home. I set out to the State Capital on a Sumo Jeep by 6 a.m. The jeep was full. I sat near a man who was, besides me, the only one from male gender. I had some fear or anxiety since I was given instruction that I should be vary of dealing and mingling with Mizo women. That many of then were enchanting La Bell Dames Sans Mercy. Hence I tried to keep as far away from them as possible. They were passing Paan with betel and began chewing. The man offered me ; but I refused. There was ringing laughter from the women-folk. My fear aggravated. I thought I would be teased or enslavened by the women as I was warned by my friends that they were particularly interested in ensnaring men from the Indian mainland. It was a eight hour travel. On the mid-way the man who sat by me got out. I had no other choice than to sit beside the Mizo women. The women seemed to understand my plight and laughed loudly to put me into further embarassment. I was almost sure that I would be pounded upon by the sex-hungry Mizo women. I never had feared the presence of women earlier in my life. And on the other hand I enjoyed it. But now I did fear beyond limits thereof words of mouth could not expound. My journey of consternation looked longer than what it actually was. The women were talking and laughing and chewing betel as well. I felt a fish out of water. The jeep had come to the the Aiswaal Town suburbs. The women prepared themselves to alight. One of them gave a heavy nod on my head! I turned my head to see her . She was a bonny lass . a real spectacle to the eyes. She shook hands with me. I got out of the jeep in search of her to find that she had already disappeared into the crowd.
From this I could realise that all that was said about the Mizo women were not true. They were good. decent and also straightforward. Only those who go after her will be trapped into quagmire. Once trapped, the men from outside Mizoram had no escape. They would have no other choice than to hang around then till their very death. I thought it my fortune and a blessing in disguise that I did nAot notice the visage of the enchantress till the end of my jeep journey.Had there been eye contact with her, all my fear might have melted down to surrendering to the sacrificial altar of beauty since I was an emotional weakling sans self-control. And when emotion came through key-hole all the wisdom used to go out through the window…
About the Author
I am Mohanakumar V.N. from a small village Thalappalam in Kottayam District of Kerala state in India. Kerala is often hailed as "GOD'S OWN COUNTRY". I like travelling though I have no time and money to do so... Can any one help me? I have to look after my aged mother. I am a family man. So I am always engaged in domestic affairs. Family is both a blessing and inconvenience to me at once. Blessing because it is the breeding ground for experiences which are the real raw material for creative writing and activity. It is inconvenience because it takes away my precious time.... A devoted family man cannot have time for creative activity. But, of course charity begins at home.. It should be so too.
what is the literal meaning of la belle dame sans merci?
i need help for my english assignment
what is the literal meaning of the poem la belle dame sans merci
The title translates to "The Beautiful Woman Without Pity" (not "thanks")
Wikipedia gives this synopsis of the ballad:
"The poem describes the encounter between an unnamed knight and a mysterious woman who is said to be "a faery's child". It opens with a description of the knight in a barren landscape, "haggard" and "woe-begone". He tells the reader how he met a beautiful lady whose "eyes were wild"; he set her on his horse and she took him to her "elfin grot", where she "wept, and sigh'd full sore". Falling asleep, the knight had a vision of "pale kings and princes", who cried, "La Belle Dame sans Merci hath thee in thrall!" He awoke to find himself on the same "cold hill's side" after which he continues to wait and "palely loitering".
Although "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" is short (only twelve stanzas of four lines each, with an ABCB rhyme scheme), it is full of enigmas. Because the knight is associated with images of death—a lily (a symbol of death in Western culture), paleness, "fading", "wither[ing]"—he may well be dead himself at the time of the story. He is clearly doomed to remain on the hillside, but the cause of this fate is unknown. A straightforward reading suggests that the Belle Dame entraps him, along the lines of tales like Thomas the Rhymer or Tam Lin. To continue, as knights are usually bound to vows of sexual chastity, the poem may imply that this knight is doubly compromised — and, actually, now enchanted — as he dallies here with an ethereal creature."
La Belle Dame Sans Merci read by Ben Whishaw