1st L. Keivom Memorial Day
“...Every man is born as many men and dies as a single one…”
- Martin Heideggar
By David L. Keivom
L. Keivom passed away peacefully in his
sleep at a Delhi hospital in the winter of
2021 after a brief battle with cancer.
He was 82 years old.
His wife of over 50 years, Dari Keivom,
had departed just a year before.
The ancients might say they are both
united now and have become one with the
universe.
I miss them often and on some lonely
pensive nights when I’m in solitary
company, I do think of myself as orphaned
too soon.
You see, in the biblical account of the
prodigal son, the errant main character
does return, much to the joy of his father.
In my case, once in my late teens and
ready for university, I left home never to return to the family as I knew them from
childhood days.
Return I did but as if a war veteran,
shell-shocked, in a “once bitten, twice shy”
kind of state. Then I embarked towards
my calling, into service in a Christian
organization that reached out to the
afflicted and downtrodden.
Those long years in the “Ministry of
Eternal Affairs” he really felt I was wasting
my time. But kept calm.
“Get a degree in theology. All your
colleagues will supersede you but at least
you’ll have a degree.”
Eventually I did and quietly he must have
rejoiced. After marriage, my wife and I
found ourselves posted to the Philippines
which we have called home since 2014.
Just when I thought I’d settle into life
beside my father getting to know him as
he got frailer, Covid-19 and its aftermath
arose. Fate then took a cruel turn and
separated us forever.
I lamented in my obituary speech last
winter that L. Keivom is not really my
father.
“Ka pieng hma deuin, in ta.
Sinin, Sanin, Hrilin, thruoiin.
Hmar nauhai, A sakhuo dittak in nih,
In laia inlawi zie.”
I had long before reconciled myself to my
fate, the fate of anyone in a relationship
with a public servant, celebrity, local folk
hero, a famous person.
They are often “present” but never really
“there”.
Now a bonafide “Adult Pu”, I sense not so
much that I lost a father but that a tribe
gained a leader who made full use of his
craft to lead them to a vision of the
Promised Land. A Zo self-identity. Zoram
Khawvel. Dreams coming true.
A Pherzawl Beginning
L. Keivom began writing and dreaming
early. Sadly his father was taken away by
an ailment before the two could bond.
“My father died a believer (Ringtu niin a thi)
but before
he could learn ABC, which
the old folks then called
‘white man’s magic’.”
- L. Keivom.
Aged 10, upon successfully completing
Lower Primary School as the topper, his
family was so enthralled by this
achievement a feast was held at home
inviting the entire village. A shy, nervous
speaker then enchanted the attendees
with a recited piece of English from his
text books.
At 13 my father wrote his first song and a
few years later, his first article on a topic praising the alphabet (Roman Script), so
enamored was he of its worth.
(Unconsciously, he admits, the inspiration
for his award winning book “Zoram
Khawvel - I” came from his early schooling
days in Pherzawl when students from
Mizoram, Cachar, Tripura and the
southern regions of Manipur converged
each speaking different Zo dialects,
co-existing harmoniously.)
“A form of ‘Pan-Zoism’ was born in me in this atmosphere which ultimately crystallized forty years later.” - L. Keivom
Eventually what crystallized, “Zoram
Khawvel - I”, written in his mid 40s was
well-received and Keivom won Book of the
Year in 1991, a nod from the Mizo
Academy of Letters. All this from a guy
who needed 2 failed attempts at
matriculation to finally graduate from DM
College in 1963.
“Rêl lu hmu loa
B.A. tling sartifiket”
is the title he earned,
as till then he had never
seen a train in his life,
said Keivom.
Visionaries can emerge from any
environment and remote village. In a
biblical teaching, Nathaniel enquires: can
anything good come out of Nazareth?
Likewise, if doubt exists as to whether
anything good can come out of a
“Pherzawl”, the answer is to point to fellows like L. Keivom and the rest of his
breed.
John Adams, the 2nd President of the
United States, alluded to how the work of
the pioneers, the “forefathers” of society
pave the wave for the next generation,
and lighten our load.
“I must study politics
and war, that our sons may
have liberty to
study mathematics and philosophy.
Our sons ought to study
mathematics and
philosophy… in order to give their
children
a right to study painting,
poetry, music .”
- John Adams,
2nd President of the United
States
Indeed, much is owed to the bravehearts
from the Baby boomer generation, the
likes of my father and his peers, and those
older, those from yesterday who labored
well to become captains of industry in
politics, civil service, medicine, business
and other such notable career paths.
They paved the way for us Gen Xers and
Millennials and Generation Zs.
So today, more than ever, we Zo people
have the luxury to paint, dance, write and
sing, act, rap, model, dream, and soar,
ever examining newer ways to
self-aspiration than was possible just 100
years ago.
The Keivom I Got to Know
In spirit, the Keivom I knew was Moses,
saved by grace from life in the hinterlands
of Manipur and transported into the upper
echelons of civil service. And like Moses,
seeing his people from afar enslaved,
from his diplomatic ivory tower and long
into retirement, Keivom’s lifelong quest
and plea to God through his work was: Set
my people free. Set my people free.
His earthly delivery without forceps or
nurses on July 15, 1939 inside a
ramshackle bamboo hut in Pherzawl,
Manipur, was very much an ordinary tribal
birth. No magi from the east or
supernovas appeared. And so none
among the 100 families around could
predict the boy would grow up to become
figuratively a cultural, linguistic, literary,
and spiritual Moses of his clan. A scribe
destined to cause the rise and falling of
much “thought” and “creative” output.
“Family responsibility was
never on my shoulder.
I loved freedom of thought
and reasoning and
I had
been lucky to have elder
brothers who
understood me
and allowed me to grow
in my
own space freely.
This enabled me to engage
myself in creative pursuits
from a very young age.”
- L. Keivom
Whether at work or play, L. Keivom
imbibed Martin Heidegger's world view,
that we are “Beings” who exist with
“Others” and have finite “time”, and that in a day and a lifetime each second must be
used well, effectively and magnificently.
He was a type of Paul, journeying center
to center
to establish the kingdom of God
in his own unique
Zoram Khawvel way.
He was a type of Elijah, ready
to confront Ba’al
worshippers even if it
meant rubbing
Kings and
Queens the wrong way.
He was an Abraham, who fathered many
sons and daughters, who will one day be
as numerous as the stars in the sky.
Certainly Keivom was not from the line of
Aaron, he was not church clergy, nor
ordained, nor officially trained in Bible
translation. But believing he was a royal
priesthood, a priest in the line of
Melchizedek, made righteous by the blood
of Christ, he embarked on translating the
most holy of scriptures, the Holy Bible into
a new Hmar.
Perhaps that is how we shall be indebted
to him for generations.
Keivom survived long,
showing us that the pen is
mightier than the sword,
that being gentle
as a
dove and wise
as a serpent is
key to success.
If “Keivom” is a template, today we each
start with our own blank canvas blessed
with endless possibilities to make meaning
of his Zoram Khawvel philosophy, his love
of culture and pursuit of self-identity.
He was in life a bonafide “bon vivant”.
I dedicated a poem to him while studying
divinity at Serampore College. This same
poem was presented as a gift to His
Grace Rowan Williams, theologian and
former Archbishop of Canterbury who
visited our historic institution. I believe the
Archbishop has a David Keivom poem
proudly hanging on his walls.
To a Young Man on His 70th Birthday
May it be said that yours
Was a life well-lived
One day when you’re in heaven.
May it be said by all men and women
That you truly gave your life
For their betterment
And not for gain.
May it echo like a refrain
That you dealt with
Circumstances with a firm hand
That you beat the odds -
You overcame.
Trust that you’ll never be forgotten
That you were ahead of your time,
To glorify Him in the ages to come,
Defying the sands of time.
May it be said that yours
Was a life well-lived
One day when you’re in heaven.
Bible Translator
By 2002 when he retired from active duty
in the Indian Foreign Service, L. Keivom
had been in service for 35 years. He was
already a seasoned career diplomat, an effective administrator and capable
statesman.
If entirely bogged down administratively
during his tenure as a diplomat and
publishing even then, his life got busier
after retirement.
The best was saved for last.
He confessed to the need for a Hmar
Bible devoid of being “shamelessly copied
where translation committees ride
roughshod over any element of correct
grammatical rules leading to misleading
sermons.”
His intense labor paid off and the new
Hmar Baibul known popularly as “Delhi
Version” was partially released in 2004,
then fully translated in 2007. The 2nd
Edition, painstakingly edited (and slimmer
too) was published in 2015.
“Baibul (Hmar) popularly
known as Delhi Version is
perhaps
the only Bible
version on earth in which
all the lines of
every
Psalm are set in equal
syllable.” - L. Keivom
To commemorate the 1st year of L.
Keivom’s passing, a Delhi Version 3rd
Edition is being released in December,
2022.
(He wished for the Baibul to continue
being published by his surviving family
members and this latest Edition has solely
been their undertaking and is self-funded.)
The 3rd Edition will be distributed free of
cost, stating on the inside cover: This
Bible is not to be sold.
Ironically, in interviews L. Keivom speaks
of his initial faith in himself.
“My ultimate ambition at that
time was to pass Matriculation
and become
a teacher in our Middle
School.
My second ambition
was to visit Imphal
at least once before I died.”
- L. Keivom
What Weighed Heavily
Upon revisiting his old home town
Pherzawl, unlike in the famous Tom Jones
song “Green Grass of Home” (“The old
hometown looks the same…And there to
meet me is my mama and papa…Down
the road I look and there runs Mary…Hair
of gold and lips like cherries...It's good to
touch the green, green grass of home”),
the Pherzawl that greets him is decrepit
and in partial ruins.
“The deserted old village
site was now covered with
thorny bushes and
groundsels
and the graveyard at
the
outskirt of the northern
gateway where the
tombstones of
Pu Bulhmang, founder chief
and his wife,
was in a state of total neglect and
disrepair.” - L. Keivom
In one of his last articles published June
2021 titled “Ka Lungkham Ruk”, L. Keivom
thinks out loud.
“Kei ka lungkham ve chuh,
thu le hla tienga
voi
le chang la hre mumal
lo ka mihai hi an nih.
Poisa hlutnaa inkhi
thei lo, ka laibrari
dam hi
iengtin am hung
hmang trangkai thei ding?”
- L. Keivom
While most parents fear their children’s lot
should an untimely demise occur, my
father’s chief worry was different. Would
people make use of the priceless books in
his library? In other words, would people
bother to read, learn and write?
The younger L. Keivom’s childhood
heroes were the likes of Pu Thianlam
Vaiphei, aspiring to possess the same
degree of English “grammar” proficiency
as the famed educationalist.
The older L. Keivom stressed the
importance of making full use of available
Zo writings whose sole purpose is to
prevent our community from becoming a
“lost generation”.
“If thought corrupts
language,
language can also
corrupt thought”
-
George Orwell
Mizo Academy of Letters Award 2022
Not all hope is lost.
In an event to be held in Aizawl, the Mizo
Academy of Letters (MAL) will
posthumously confer upon my father their
Academy Award 2022, in honor of his
work. It is a recognition handed out every
three years, a gesture that would make L.
Keivom proud.
German philosopher Martin Heiddegar
wrote: “Every man is born as many men
and dies as a single one.”
Dying to self at every stage of his life,
shaped through destiny to emerge into
many forms of man then dying as a “single
one”, what memory of L. Keivom are we
left with in the end?
In a biblical account Jewish leaders sent
priests and Levites to ask John the
Baptist, “Who are you?”
The Messiah? Elijah?
John then confessed that he was “the
voice of one calling in the wilderness,
‘Make straight the way for the Lord.’”
“Every man is born as
many men and dies
as a single one.”
- Martin
Heideggar
Perhaps that’s how I will remember my
father, L. Keivom the best. As being the
voice of one calling out in the desert,
leading me to the Promised Land of my
own Zo self-identity. And in “learning” to
read his tri-lingual works, at last I find
many facets of him there. And begin to
dream his vision too.
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