Taton – Your laughter will resound forever

After 40 odd years of writing, I am suddenly at a loss for words. On the afternoon of May 17^th, word reached me that Hem Athokpam aka Taton was no more. The cruel coronavirus had snatched him away.

He was my Majordomo from the 1990s till about a few years back. We teamed up together at the Kangleipak Kanba Lup, an organization for the unity, protection and progress of Manipur, Taton serving as the Vice President. Since the formation of this body, he was loved for his dedication to the organization and under his leadership, our organization gained trust; we could provide aid to those states affected by the pandemic, and of course, the aura of his leadership was contagious.

I used to call him not by his name, but Taton, as he was affectionately called by everyone. And he would respond with just the same tone "Oja" which in Meiteilon means teacher or, revered master. Even at times when my tone was harsh, it was the same tone with which he would respond.

‘Taton Kadar’ was how I had saved his number on my phone. ‘Kadar’ in our mother tongue means clever and witty, which he was. He would use his wit and smarts to get us out of any situation. But never in my long association with him did I ever see him get angry even once.

Taton was a self-trained video editor par excellence. Those who knew him would agree that he had a keen eye for photography and always stood for the preservation of culture. These traits were evident even when he was a young boy. No wonder, he was patient enough to dedicate more than 30 years of his life collecting data for the indigenous cultural festivals of the state. One very endearing trait of his was his unwavering effort to foster closer ties between the hills and valleys of the state.

Years ago, I recall, how we sat up the whole night preparing a video documentary showcasing Manipur's tourism potential since we had no ready script. It felt like we were in college - I would write the script, he would add the visuals and then I would do the voiceover. Not an impossible task but you require a person like Taton to be handling the editing machinery with ease. Later with the advent of WhatsApp on the mobile, he founded a group called News Update, of which he was the administrator. Every morning, he would gather news from all around the world and send them to the group, to keep us members updated. “Who will upload the news stories now". That there will be no morning beep from Taton now is just so heart-breaking.

Years later, after his sons got married, Taton started a paan shop in Moirangkhom which would remain open well past midnight. He’d asked me once on my visit, “Oja, what brand of paan would you like?”. I asked him the brands he had. "Vat69, Johnnie Walker, Teachers, Royal Challenge and Blenders Pride,” he said to my astonishment. The catch was that he had soaked the betel nuts (kwa maru) in these fiery liquids brand-wise. His humour had a life of its own.

I am sorry dearest Taton, for I was not able to take part in your last rites. I was not able to visit your wife Santo and your children, to be with them in the hour of grief.

But that’s the Loneliness of Covid deaths. In just one week, I have lost so many friends to the virus. The terrible thing about dying of Covid is that when you’re passing on, your near and dear ones can’t be present, except perhaps for one or two who have to be masked up. In your death, there were no flowers and when you turned “dust into dust, ashes into ashes” the honour of one last salutation was also not there.

But your laughter will resound forever. Your energy will flow around us forever. I have lost a brother and a friend, but the heavens above gained one.

So long, have a swell time in your Happy Hunting ground.