a sketch of no man's land (moreh)

never been to America or elsewhere
except to Myanmar

it's the no man's land
adventurous people come and go
looking for sex drugs guns golds and pearls
and for your kind information
the cheapest sex is there
the quickest consequences you will know.

the town with the yellow girls
famous to me for its sugarcane juice
famous for its candles and bangles
famous for years like an old wine
my granpa had before he dined

the thin line of the border
each side with flags of different colors
the BSF standing still watching the chicks
in their uniform and unclean beard
i was told they enjoy watching in and out of the girls

the river by the woods
where they remove their hoods
to wash the sweats and go back home
was where blood used to stream
where the forgotten hero washed the bloody sword

the evening scenes often remind me
the ancient Rome created by Goscinny and Uderzo

the market with the stink of fresh river fish
the people, the air, the monks too
the smell of the burning incense stick
from the Buddhist monastery
like a blue shade upon the vast ocean

the varied pickles of varied fruits
the roasted sunflower seeds with milk
inside the polythene
pictures of the yellow girls
sold by the ladies
chatting away their last night's orgies

the half opened pumpkin in the market
glows in yellow
you can see from the nearby hills
i never made mistake in pointing that out
even if i am colorblind

the monks on the little honda bikes
taking advantage of civilization

the southern sons, in their rolled up mund
the long thick golden chain
contrasting their own hairy dark skins
but goes well with their agressiveness,
biking up and down the pebbled streets
the streets of the ruling corrupt government

the sellers, the buyers shouting
and bargaining over the floral blanket

the roadside furniture shop
decorated with the yellow marigold flowers
for the coming pooja or christmas who cares
they just have to sell away their things

the crazy sun seems low and unkind
disturbing the old woodcutter's wrinkled eye
the windy evening carries the men
around the oval of the hips of the ladies

many tried to knock down the girls
inside the cabin made of wood
but return broke and empty like a gambler
down on their luck
here hundred doors open to become rich
to those born with the silver spoon
..................................akhu fades..............................

mund : south indian lungi
Goscinny and Uderzo: creator of Asterix comic

i'm trying to sketch some scenes of a place called Moreh. it's a hub to small town like imphal economically.
eveything that we use from morning till night comes though this town moreh. it's been a life saver town. it lies in the Indo-Myanmar border. Thank you, Moreh!

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