that wail of that bullock cart was different
but mother said
it was going to the field to harvest
In evening i waited for him
to have a ride on his cart
practising the peasants' slogan like yell "ar ti ti"
and remembering the lesson he taught me
"whip the left one if you want to turn left
whip the right one if you want to turn right"
but he never returned
some said the bulls got away from the hook
and he lost his way back home
but no one lost their way back in their own hometown
Some said he ran away with the feudal lord's daughter
All sort of stories cooked up
when his family could trace only the lantern
with its wick all burnt.
But one day after many months
I met him on Ukhrul Road
He hold my hand and said smilingly
"Ar Ti Ti ! Turn back
Go back home
I have few things to harvest
we are planning an Ambush"
and the next day
His body arrived in a truck
with hundreds of pamphlets
and in the evening
every thongal burnt a torch
and no one talked of him anymore
and never i heard the same wail from any bullock cart
it was the innocent wail of a soul
for wanting to die or live for something he valued