My HMHS School Memoir
By Muana Khuptong
My
time at Hill Model High School from 1994 to 1996 was an unforgettable
experience filled with both joyful and challenging moments. I have many
cherished memories from my time there, spanning from 6th to 9th grade. While
there are parts of my experience that I wish I could forget due to the
struggles I faced, I am deeply grateful for the education I received at Hill
Model High School in Singngat. Even though I did not complete 10th grade or
graduate from high school there, I am proud to consider myself an alumnus. I
can confidently say that the educational foundation I gained at Hill Model High
School has shaped who I am today.
This
is my story, which I love to share with others.
I
grew up in a small village called Lungchin, located in the southeast part of
Manipur, India, approximately 37 kilometers from Singngat. I attended
Evangelical Convention Church Elementary School from nursery through 5th grade.
After finishing 5th grade, I could not continue my education there, as the
school did not have higher grades. Consequently, I had to halt my studies and
help my parents with their rice farming, (we were practicing jhuming
cultivation.) This was in 1992, and I spent the entire year of 1993 working on
the farm.
During
that time, many of my friends continued their studies in either Lamka or
Singngat. I begged my parents to support my desire to attend school in either
location. While our village had a government-run school offering classes up to
8th grade, it suffered from a severe lack of qualified teachers. The teachers'
union hired unqualified individuals at minimal wages, and many teachers lived
in Lamka, enjoying their salaries without coming to the school. I enrolled in
the government school for 6th grade, but we rarely attended classes due to the
absence of teachers. Every day, while helping my parents in the rice fields, I
implored them to let me attend school in Lamka or Singngat.
My
father would often tell me that he could not afford to send me to school in Singngat
or Lamka. He felt lost when it came to finding ways to pay for my tuition,
which made him reluctant to consider my request. However, one day during the
rice harvest, as I persistently asked for permission to go to school, my mother
offered me some hope. She said, “Since you keep asking, why don’t you try again
next year? I'll find ways to get the money for your tuition.” That was the most
beautiful sound I had ever heard, and I would never forget it. I didn’t blame
my father for his hesitation; he was genuinely concerned about our financial
struggles. Every responsible parent in his position would likely act similarly.
I owe my gratitude to my mother, who had the courage to say yes. Although my
mother was illiterate and could not read or write in our language, my father
had completed 9th grade in Tedim town during his youth. He understood the
difficulties of studying away from home and wanted to spare me the bullying he
had endured at school.
With
my mother’s support, my father didn’t oppose my decision to go. So in January 1994,
I left for Singngat to continue my education. I rented a small house owned by
Mr. Tualzalian, sharing it with two other students from Lungchin village. They
were both older than me: U Tuangpi was in 9th grade, and Khuppu was in 8th
grade, while I was in 6th grade.
My
first day of school was both exciting and embarrassing. Wearing a school
uniform for the first time felt thrilling, but I struggled to speak or
understand English. I was overwhelmed by the announcements and lectures, as I
had never attended an English medium school before. In my village, my class had
only five students, and I often sat with 4th graders, with a total of around 20
students in one classroom. In contrast, at Hill Model School, I found myself in
a class of about 70 students. Nervous and intimidated, I felt like I didn’t
belong. Looking back, I realize how fortunate I was to attend a school where
spoken English was prioritized by the teachers, and we were even punished for
speaking our mother tongue.
While
I cannot claim to speak perfect English today, thanks to the solid educational
foundation I received at Hill Model High School, I faced no major issues when I
moved to America and had to communicate in English.
Initially,
I struggled to understand the language until summer vacation. Being the
youngest in our rented house, my roommates occasionally bullied me, and we had
some fights, making my living situation uncomfortable. Some students at school
also bullied me, which added to the unpleasantness. With no older siblings or
influential friends to defend me, I had to endure these challenges. I still remember one particular time when someone threw a
rock at me, and it landed squarely on my head. The pain was excruciating, and I
felt incredibly dizzy, yet I dared not tell anyone. I sat in the front seat of
the classroom, a spot that most students avoided, alongside my friends
Chinkhanmang and Khanlal. In our class, three students shared the same name:
Thangmuanlal. To tell them apart, we referred to them by the initials of their
clan names. I became very close friends with K. Thangmuanlal.
Among my classmates, Ms. Chingngaihlun was
considered one of the most beautiful girls. She happened to be the daughter of
our vice-principal, Madam ZS, which only added to her allure. Every boy admired
her beauty. Another notable student was Lallungmuani, the sister of our
teacher, Ms. TPi. She was exceptionally smart and consistently topped the
class. Not many boys had the courage to approach her, but I managed to build a
great friendship with her, and we eventually became very close friends.
After the summer vacation examination, in June
1994, I returned to my village for a month. Walking back home, I felt an
immense sense of pride, reveling in the knowledge that I was one of the few
students studying outside my village. It was a gratifying experience, and for
the first time, I felt truly accomplished. By the last week of June, I had to
return to Singngat Township for school again. I changed my address and began
living with newfound relatives at Pu Suangin’s house. There, I grew close to
his daughters, whom I affectionately called Nu Kim, Nu Vuvung, and Nu Lun Ngai
Biaklun.
For the first time, I watched the 1994 World
Cup final between Brazil and Italy at Lambom Saulim in Singngat. The excitement
of that event left a lasting impression on me. The following year, their
married sister, Nu Mawi, and her husband, Pa Hau, invited me to live with them,
so I moved again for the entirety of 1995 to attend 7th grade.
During this year, I made many friends,
including Khuma, Zomhinglian, Dinglianthang, and Khualpu. Khuma and Dinga were
especially supportive, providing me with moral encouragement. I developed a
crush on a beautiful girl named Linda Ngainunsang, who lived in our neighborhood
and attended St. Joseph's School. However, she was out of my league, and as a
poor boy from the village, I lacked the confidence to approach her. Khama and
Dinga even spoke to her on my behalf, teasing me about my feelings, but it
turned out she already had a boyfriend.
In 7th grade, I saw significant improvement in
my studies. I learned how to read and write in English, thanks in part to
sitting next to my friend Zuava. He introduced me to Western music, sharing a
songbook filled with works by artists like Bon Jovi, Bryan Adams, and The
Eagles. I made copies of all his songs and was amazed by the variety. My friend
K. Muanlal further expanded my musical horizons, introducing me to Smokie and
other artists. He owned a tape recorder and cassettes featuring Western music,
and he had an old acoustic guitar that we learned to play together. I memorized
many Western songs, including ‘Please Forgive Me,’ ‘Always,’ and ‘In These
Arms.’ This immersion in music significantly enhanced my spoken English.
In my 8th-grade year, I moved into a tiny
single house owned by Pu Tuanzakhup in Zoveng. I lived alone, but my brother
Khaipu supported me by bringing rice and dried vegetables from our village each
month. Life was tough; water was scarce, and cooking meals was quite a
challenge. Despite these difficulties, I grew fond of living in Singngat town,
eventually preferring it over my village.
During 8th grade, a newspaper advertisement
announced a statewide written exam competition for the National Scholastic Scholarship
Award. I eagerly signed up and participated in the competition held in
Tuibuang, Lamka. To my astonishment, I was selected for a four-year scholarship
award. In January 1997, I underwent hernia repair surgery at Civil Hospital
Lamka, where I stayed for two weeks to recover. During my hospital stay, my
name appeared in the Manipur Express Newspaper as one of the awardees from the
National Scholastic Talent Search. I was truly surprised by the significance of
this achievement when I received congratulations from various educated
individuals.
Upon my recovery, I returned to Singngat in
January to begin my 9th-grade school year, living with my friend K. Muanlal and
his family. His father, Pu Thangcha, and mother, Pi Vung, were exceptionally
generous to me, and I enjoyed living with them. Many students from my previous
8th-grade class had moved away, following the increasing tensions between the
Kuki and Zomi communities. Unfortunately, just before the end of May 1997,
rumors of a civil war breaking out between these groups began circulating. Pi
Vung asked if I could help her during the June summer break instead of
returning to Lungchin, but I felt a sense of obligation to my family and
reluctantly refused her.
On June 24, 1997, a devastating
event occurred when Kuki militants opened fire on the Zomis in Saikul village,
leading to the tragic deaths of ten people. This horrific incident ignited a
civil war, forcing us to flee to Mizoram. As a result, I was unable to continue
my studies in Singngat Township. The attack claimed the lives of several of my
classmates and acquaintances, including Biaksang, Langsuanthang, and Mangmuan.
In total, 26 people lost their lives in my village, Lungchin. Finally, I want
to express my gratitude to all my teachers at Hill Model for their invaluable
guidance and support. Special thanks go to Madam Zasiam, Sir Lunlal, Sir Dongzahau,
and especially GL (Ginzalian) whose guidance and support have profoundly
shaped my life. My journey at Hill Model High School remains a defining chapter
of my life, filled with lessons in resilience, gratitude, and growth.
My teachers and their teachings have played a
vital role in shaping who I am today.
