Monday, August 8, 2011


Flight of a Fallen Angel

Often heard about them
In drunken schmooses
From “committed” activists
Drivers, doctors, engineers, lawyers
Professors, intrepid Commandos and IRBs
Women in the North AOC
Paona Bazar, Old Nambulane, etc.
Varied stock and ages in varied roles
Vegetable vendor in the morning
Kala Bazaar toubi in day time
Liqour vendor in the evening
Flesh seller anytime
“Pleasure” creatures for money.

Rs. 300 and Madam returned with Angel
A pair of wired Moreh bras
Supported her puerile frame
Sought passion in her glazed eyes
Hunted for warmth in her decrepit body
Flies and mosquitoes danced
Along with the moths
Mocking our silence
Bed bugs crawled on the straw bed
Espying our inactivity
Unwashed body and cheap perfume
The “Rice Hotel” smelled like a sty
Puked away my libido.

She played with my golden cufflinks
Asked if they’re made of “real” gold
Caressed the silken Versace shirt on her face
Said in accented tone
She could see herself on my shoes
Toyed with the contents of my wallet
Said she was not a “regular”
Her mother thinks she’s a cook
She needed just few more big bucks
Then she’d return to her village
Where the brooks sing and chase butterflies
Give up strange men and stench of the Hotel
Madam shouted: “Shhhh! Commandos are around”.

Read about them in the Sangai Express
(Imphal, March 10, 2009)
On the night of February 27, 2009
When greater Imphal was under curfew
(Kishan, Token & Rajen were murdered, right)
Four Commandos of Thoubal Police
Wielding weapons barged
Into a “Rice Hotel” at North AOC
The intruders shouted:
“There is no use for women like you
We have additional bullets to eliminate you
Why you infected women are
Trying to spread diseases to others?”

The Commandos ordered the women
To remove their clothes
Threatened to shoot if they refused
Molested and man-handled
Inserted sticks into the private parts
Forced into various sexual activities
Merrily recorded the activities
Later, forced them into a Bolero jeep
But at an isolated place forced them out
The Commandos once again molested
Youngest of the victims (about 16 years old)
Demanded oral sex from her
When refused severely beaten up.

Days later Sangai Express reported
(Imphal, March 22, 2009)
About an “agreement”
Stated that the “unfortunate” incident
Occurred owing to a “misunderstanding”
And that the police agreed to “instruct”
The involved security personnel and others
Not to mete out such acts in future
There was no news of punishments
Or about compensation and rehabilitation
Neither the negotiator involved
Nor the ministry of social welfare
Cried for justice; mutely accepted the agreement

The reported news items
I discovered later
Were cuds of amusement and leisure
Chewed by the learned civil society
In flies laden tea stalls
Air-conditioned hotel suites, etc
But what can you expect
In this Land of the Half-humans
Where fire, water, air, earth and sky
Are more valuable
Than the nameless citizens
Rape, harassment and killing
Are devices of ordered-democracy.

Angel showed me
The black and blue bruises
She suffered on the day
Complained of pain in her private parts
During urination after the assault
With gritted tooth said
She’d comply if I desired
She needed money, pay back Madam
And fly back with her clipped wings
To her village which was burnt down
By those who aspire
For a Greater Nagalim
Where ghosts of her folks roam
Along with the flightless butterflies.

Price of Love

Hard to forget a soulful image
Contours of a body
Intimate sounds of moaning and ecstasy
Lies of promises
Blows in fits of raging jealousies
Calming touches
Balms to the wounded selves
Merging imaginaries of binaries
Aching and longings
One calls love.

Strong gust of cold wind
Scattered hair wild across her face
Threadlike structures
Sticking with cold sweat like dewdrops
On skin smooth as glass
Halting penetration
Of the beam of moonlight
Forcing its way on her visage
Through the scattered strands.
Tried to wipe away the dewdrops
Smoothen the hair
Lest, I awake her
From her eternal sleep
And envelope me
In a fog of darkness
With a kiss of death
And take away my soul.

Slowly, lowered the lid of the coffin
Stood for a while reading
The inscription on the tombstone
Leaning on the axe in flooding moonlight
Beneath the ancient sinewy oak tree
Amidst howling of the nightly creatures
Feeling prickly stabs of the cold wind
Another time, another visit
Knew, I shall be back.

These were the same lines I inscribed
Coloured with her frozen dried blood
From the axe I cut her into pieces
Price of love!
Same night I returned home
With a present of love
A rainbow held tight in a vial of hope
A diamond ring as big as the cosmos
Slaves we shall be in binding love.

Through the keyhole I saw
Queen of my heart in naked glory
Dancing with ancient spirits of the deep
Vile tentacles engulfing reality
Projecting a future of kaleidoscopic hues
Non-existence atomizing the being
Bathed in blood of our love child
The lifeless body
Crucified on the altar of exaltation.

Tears, for you

Today, I stand here upon you
On the dust of my ancient forefathers
Inhaling the aroma of the yore
Dancing with faceless ghosts
Celebrating the joy of being alive
Tucking deep inside
In a corner of my fathomless soul
A memory, a wish, a promise, a duty
Covered with mirth of forgetfulness.

Starry nights, oh no!
Fire flies, fly away
Tamna, sing no more
Fragrance of Takhel lei, disgusted
Sleep, overcome me
Imprison me in an open field
With no stars in the horizon
The taunting spirits of my ancestors
Constant reminders of my falling foible.

Let me ride high on a purple haze
Just as my comrades-in-arms do
Paint the town red with wild jubilation
Of a victory abandoned
Write on the walls empty slogans
Convert the believers into pretenders
Unleash the vultures in us
Scavenge on the filth of poverty
Covered with blood of the virgins.

But the stars, twinkling with mockery!
The fireflies, lost beacons on river bed!
Hear at a yonder
Ceaseless clapping of the ghosts
Mocking choruses of the jawless spirits
Insipid smiles on wrinkled lips
Gnarled fingers talon like
Pointing at the spineless me
Cavorted choruses on trumpets loud.

“Your belly is swollen
With greed, like a bubble falling on a thorn.”

“Your eyes are glistening
With contempt, like fishes to be drowned.”

“Your feet falter
With weakness, like a spent canon.”

“Your soul is black
With doubt, like the Reaper.”

“Your children are killed
With bullets, like winter ducks.”

“Tears, for you
Is all we’ve for you.”

Pom-pom-pom, you dog”.

Today, yes today,
I stand here upon you
On the mud of my forefathers
Covering my ears, blindfolding my eyes
Wishing for darkness
Awaiting the Angel of Mercy
Unable to dance
Afraid of my own shadow
Covered with blood of my own guilt.

Heard a sound in the distance
Enchanted by its sweetness
Vibrated my heart
Trembled my soul
Soothed my turmoil being
The voice still echoes.

Visualized a formless image perfect
Painted a portrait ecstatic
Angel of mercy begotten
Hissed a warm breathing
Felt the cold presence
The visuals still stand.

On a night of purple haze
Mercy descended on a butterfly
Dropped a lasso of rainbow
Salvaged the stranded me
Exploded my despair dark
The act remains merciful.

In a wordless lullaby soothing
Angelic smile and mockery divine
Mercy of my soul cradled me
Existence divided uncertainties
Reality disintegrated beyond life
The imprints still persist.

Dreamer and the dreamed united
Inebriated like tadpoles
Sucking ichor of bliss
Drifted down an abyss elated
Waited for the sun
The sun remains frigid.

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