India's 'lost Jews' wait in hope

A team of senior Israeli rabbis is due to rule soon on whether thousands of Indians who say they are members of one of the lost tribes of Israel can settle there.

Only 5,000 of the Benei Menashes have converted to Judaism Shlomo Amar recently led a delegation of rabbis to the north-eastern Indian states of Manipur and Mizoram where members of the Benei Menashe tribe live and practise Judaism.

At the Beith-el Synagogue in the Manipur capital, Imphal, nine men wearing knitted skull caps read silently from the Old Testament.

Four others stand on a wooden platform in the centre of the room as a young man reads from the holy book under the supervision of an elderly priest.

We found that the stories, the customs and practices of the Israeli people were very similar to ours

Tongkhohao Aviel Hangshing "We are Benei Menashe, because we belong to the Menashe tribe," he says.

"Menashe is the son of Joseph, who was one of the 12 sons of Jacob. So we are the lost tribe of Israel."

"And we found that the stories, the customs and practices of the Israeli people were very similar to ours. So we thought that we must be one of the lost tribes."

Saturdays are observed by Jews the world over as the Sabbath, the day of rest, and the members of the Benei Menashe community meet for morning prayers at the synagogue in Imphal.

A lamb-skin scroll of the Torah, is unrolled and then rolled up again as each reader finishes his part.

There are more than 300,000 Benei Menashes in Manipur but most of them follow Christianity.

Mr Hangshing says although India has treated them quite well, they do not consider it their home.

Lucy Vaiphei (right) is hoping to join her family in Israel The recent visit by a delegation of rabbis from Israel has given new hope to the members of this community.

Caleb, a 24-year-old college student, wants to go to Israel because he says it is the land of his forefathers.

Amram is studying to be a lawyer. He says Israel is the promised land, for him and the others too.

In a chamber partitioned from the main prayer hall, about a dozen women join in the Sabbath prayers.

Her parents and six siblings have emigrated to Israel in the last few years and she is now looking forward to making the move herself.

Michael Freund, director of Amishav - an organisation that helps Jews move to Israel - says he firmly believes that Menashe is one of the lost tribes of Israel.

"We have brought over 800 of them to Israel," he says, "and the remaining people also want to emigrate".

Mr Freund says that last year the new Israeli interior minister, Avraham Poraz, suddenly declared his opposition to bringing the Benei Menashes into Israel.

"But I'm confident that if the chief rabbi issues a ruling saying that the Benei Menashes are indeed descendents of the Jewish people and should be allowed back home, then he will have no choice but to let them in."

So while the rabbis in Israel take a decision on whether or not to grant the right to emigrate to Israel to the Benei Menashes, this community here is waiting with bated breath - and praying.

"Why I Hate Cats" "Daily News", Sunday, May 25, 1980 "Cats. They make me sneeze, wheeze, snort, cough, choke. My eyes run, my nose runs, and I leave rooms when a cat is present.

I don't like cats, I abhor cats. I detest cats.. They're extremely unfriendly, conceited and all around boorish individuals.

And those meows! How the good Lord in His wisdom could let a sound like that on this green earth mystifies me.

And the sound from their nocturnal amorous forays? Well, as they say, it's enough to raise the dead. Or the living for that matter. I distinctly recall waking in a cold sweat on many night, a condition undoubtedly induced by those eerie, preternatural wails that emit from feline throats.

But enough.

Let's get down to specifics; let's try for some objectivity here. Lets examine the domesticated cat in his habitat.

The first thing one notices upon entering a domicile where a cat is present is the smell that permeates the residence. Now I'm told that it isn't the cat that smells but rather the litter box where the poor cat must answer his natural call. In my experience one usually finds this commode in the kitchen, next to the cat's eating bowls, or in the bathroom, where human beings perform their ablutions.

Needless to say, any right thinking person finds this extremely distasteful.

The food that cats consume can be equally stomach turning. Raw hunks of liver, stinking plates of fish and sometimes perfectly mephitic comestibles of soya mash and assorted manmade fillers doused with water and left to stand hours on end.

I have figured out that one reason why cat food becomes unappetizing is that cats are slow eaters. They can stretch one plate of food the clock round. From dawn to dusk, darting in and out of the eating area for a quick munch. They sure do make that food last. All of which would be quite commendable if cats were known for thrift, but in my recollection, thrift is not an attribute of cats, even from the most devoted, anthropomorphising cat fancier.

And that's another thing. Cats always climb around on human eating surfaces. You know it and I know it. It's either the kitchen table or the dining room table or the cupboard. Even in the middle of a meal. I've seen a cat jump right onto the table, swishing its tail gaily and ever so nonchalantly depositing its hair on everyone's plate as it sashays by.

Now let's move into the living room where it seems the cat gains no greater pleasure than popping onto a lap just as the clam dip has come by and one is poised with lip aquiver for a taste. It's then that the cat pounces and said clam dip falls miserably short of its mark and dribbles down one's chin.

Push the cat away and it comes back for more. Get rough with it, and out come those claws to rake your arm, draw blood and raise welts on the skin that can take hours- even days - to disappear. God forbid if you take a swipe at that lowly cousin to the King of Beasts. That's when every cat lover in the room comes out of the woodwork , calls the ASPCA and turns you in for animal abuse. When it was all a case of self-defense in the the first place.

Finally, we have the cat in the bedroom. If it's not sitting your head, then it's purring incessantly in your ear. And if it's not doing either of those things, then it's trotting out the catnip for a quick game a 4 AM and even with its superior night vision, sometimes that old catnip gets a knock that lands somewhere in the vicinity of your nose. Swap! Your nose is in shreds, the catnip is now across the room and the wretched cat is gamboling after it.

That's what I think of cats.

If I had more time and space, I'd get on to cat lovers. The funny thing about that is that nearly all my friends own cats, know my view, and sill invite me to their homes."

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