Fandom, or the phenomenon of people losing their collective minds over a celebrity, is hardly a foreign concept in Mizo culture. In fact, one of the earliest Mizo celebrities was none other than Buizova, a man believed to have lived in the early 17th century. Despite looking like he had lost a battle with genetics, Buizova wielded his voice like a weapon of mass attraction, charming not just the ladies, married or otherwise, but also grown men.
Legend has it that whenever he sang, people's knees became weak. People had to physically hold onto poles and furniture to keep themselves from swooning into oblivion. If that is not peak fangirl energy, what is?
Fast forward a few centuries, and the Mizo people have continued to embrace celebrity culture with the same level of enthusiasm. Singers and poets were more than just entertainers, they were cultural icons, capable of starting and ending wars, such as when a singer literally started the notorious North-South Civil War in Mizoram in the 18th century with a single verse. Mizo rulers and the public fought over them like they were rare Pokémon cards.
The 1980s saw heartthrobs like CFL Hmingthanga, who still holds a place in every Mizo music lover's heart, and the early 2000s introduced Vanlalsailova, whose name alone can send a Zo person into a nostalgic trance. Then there was Lalruotmawi, the gospel queen who had the entire state wrapped around her vocal cords. The early 2000s was, by every definition, a golden era of Mizo music. Mizo music truly made its presence felt in the region, and Mizo albums were selling like hotcakes, with artists like Michael M. Sailo and girl groups like Blue Corn pushing boundaries and touring the Northeast, proving that Mizo music was more than just a local treasure.
Then came the K-Wave
While today, you can find a K-pop fan in almost every gully and street of any mainland metro city, in the Northeast, K-pop arrived quite early and became a force to be reckoned with by the mid-2000s. By the 2010s, Korean entertainment swept through Mizoram like an unstoppable tsunami. Bollywood serials, which had previously occupied every household's TV screen, were dethroned, but at a cost. While K-pop removed Bollywood's saas-bahu dramas from Mizoram's screens, Mizo entertainment also took a hit. Not only did the local music industry struggle but Mizo men, in particular, found themselves being compared to chiselled, soft-spoken, immaculately groomed Korean actors and K-pop idols.
This is not to say that Mizo men were actively competing with Korean idols, but Mizo entertainment had never really explored or celebrated masculinity or the male aesthetic. Mizo male beauty and masculinity took a backseat, and the entertainment industry was not exactly an ally to Mizo male public relations. It was not quite at the point of mass Mizo male self-esteem extinction, but it was definitely a period of "Is this all we are?"
To make matters worse, Mizo men were not enjoying great public relations socially or religiously either. With the brief lifting of prohibition laws, the Church and moral guardians constantly exaggerated polemics against society's supposed moral decline, especially among men. The repeated highlighting of alcoholism as a male problem, the claims that the traditional "God-ordained" power dynamic was collapsing, and the general questioning of Mizo masculinity all contributed to the issue. With the entertainment industry barely producing local male superstars and social expectations shifting, Mizo men were not really the centre of attention, not even a side of attention for most of the 2010s. This seemingly mundane phenomenon actually broke the balance of views and social dynamics.
Then, 2024 happened
Enter J. Lalrosanga(Fuhchiangtea) and Lalsangliana(Taitea), two Youth Icon (a reality TV singing competition in Mizoram) contestants who are smashing through every stereotype, every low expectation, and every K-pop poster hanging on teenage girls' walls. For the first time in over a decade, Mizo men are the talk of the town, and not for the usual reasons. Lalsangliana(Taitea) cemented his status by winning the Youth Icon 2024 title, while J. Lalrosanga has secured a coveted spot in the top five.
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| "Lalsangliana(Taitea) embodies the classic good-boy persona—neat, polite, and the kind of guy you would trust to return your wallet with extra money in it." |
Lalsangliana embodies the classic good-boy persona—neat, polite, and the kind of guy you would trust to return your wallet with extra money in it. J. Lalrosanga, on the other hand, struts around in leather jackets, flashing a boyish grin while cracking jokes that have the entire state in stitches. The two have become an unstoppable duo, their performances igniting a wildfire of fandom that has not been seen since the days of Sailova. The response is nothing short of seismic. Forget oppas, suddenly the hottest topic in the dawrpui, the marketplace, is not the latest K-beauty product, but which Lalrosanga or Lalsangliana fan club is planning the most elaborate charitable donation in their idol's name. A phenomenon usually reserved for Korean boy bands has found a home in our own hills and vales.
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| "Lalrosanga, on the other hand, struts around in leather jackets, flashing a boyish grin while cracking jokes that have the entire state in stitches. " (Pic: J. Lalrosanga's fan Club FB page) |
Gone are the K-drama-induced sighs over distant, untouchable oppas. For once, the most admired, most obsessed-over celebrities in Mizoram are homegrown, full-blooded Mizo men. It is like Buizova himself has returned, reincarnated as a duo. Suddenly, K-pop idols are old news. Mizo women, from tweens to grandmothers, are actually talking about Mizo men again. Social media is exploding with fan accounts, heartfelt declarations, and the occasional creatively photoshopped marriage proposal. The shift is so dramatic that even morally concerned individuals are clutching their pearls, a surefire sign that something has gained enough traction to become a social phenomenon.
These two are not just singers, they are cultural reset buttons. J. Lalrosanga, hailing from the humble village of Tuidam, and Lalsangliana, the church choir maestro, have become the poster boys for the "good Mizo boy" archetype. They are sober, modest, and, most importantly, relatable. And Mizoram loves them for it. The fans have come in droves, forming dedicated groups that shower them with gifts and even organise charity work in their names. J. Lalrosanga's hit single "Fuhchianglo Maw" has shattered Mizo YouTube records by reaching a million views in record time!, proving that the state's obsession with these two is not just hype, it is real, quantifiable, and entirely justified.
While it is tempting to dismiss this phenomenon as a fleeting trend, it is impossible to ignore the larger social shift it represents. For the first time in a long while, young Mizo men are being celebrated, admired, and talked about with excitement. This resurgence of admiration has not only boosted their presence in the entertainment industry but has also given Mizo masculinity a much-needed moment in the spotlight. Whether this marks a lasting cultural shift or simply a refreshing break from foreign influences, one thing is certain—Mizo men are back in the conversation, and they are here to stay.
