december 23rd

"why the hell you chop me down
I dont give a fuck
of ur hate or protest
I dont belong to any community
nor i care of your ethnicity
Go get a life" - Peepal Trees, Ukhrul Road

langol session (Kalakshetra Manipur)

The sun set
and we filled our glasses
we started with a short film in our mind
about the man who was picked up
from his house by Sikh Regiment
and we ended up
being the stars of the evening
peeing all over the foothills of Langol


it is december
stay true to urself
it is the last month of the year
act like u have been good
thru out the year
wear some warm clothes
if possible a bullet proof
and walk like a king
it is the end of the year
walk like u own this town
among these green men
and fuck their fucks
it is december
everyone is in slumber
waiting for the christmas
but christ died
along with many non manipuris
at keibul lamjao
years ago.
it is december
and i die tonite
my chest bursts
and feeds my bed
which has been soaked
with all my dreams and lies

winter poem

A naked poetry bicycling
all over imphal
following me
laughing at my woolen socks
and yellow hand gloves

winter poem

A naked poetry bicycling
all over imphal
following me
laughing at my woolen socks
and yellow hand gloves

my lover's report on her cats

Tangy is pregnant
and coco sadly listens
to INXS' Never tear us apart
sitting at her balcony
facing the sun
snowy is still waiting
 for fishie at her door
Hunter is lazier than ever
and jobless
and eats
left over breakfast
in the canteen
Martha doesn't care
of Wainwright family
nor she remembers her daddy
scrawny is crawling
under the bushes
to attack morning sparrow
Hampokche with her chubby cheeks
licking off the last drop of milk
from her over-longed mustache
awww al pacino died too
without any god father
bongo listens to carribean music
and loves lemon tea
Mummy is climbing the tree
trying to mother all the squirrels
Punter I, II, II
they are all in a peace talk
to start all over a punter family
but refuse to have twin kitties
Fudgy cries
missing his old furry days
and he loves to shit
on The Times of India newspaper
Some of them
go to library in the evening


Childhood lovers they were
holding hands
as the North East Express howled
over the Bhramaputra river
he brought her to Delhi.
three years later
She took him to Chandni Chowk
to sell him off (he had no idea)
like like those camels and goats
the buyer bargained

she asked "how much that would be in dollars?"
the buyer replied "aaah it wud be blah blah in dollars"
she said "Done!" and smiled and went


It is just an ordinary morning
my tooth brush met colgate as usual
i wash only my hair just to look like i bathed
(first cheating for the day)
before i locked my room
i stared at the mess
and convinced myself its me
and It rained like it was in hurry
i bicycled with my broken blue umbrella
i carried my kettle hanging from the handles.

got drenched in rain but liked it
and sitting on my chair
where i should be worrying
about vectors and tensors
I wondered about Sarajevo and Kosovo
and all the frozen corpses
from the documentary i watched..
this is how my morning is shaping up

sleeping pills

The best way to change the world is "to sleep", you know when you sleep you contribute peace to the world. Ask all the soldiers to sleep, make all the lousy politicians sleep, let those religious fundamentalists fall asleep. Hail Sleeping Pills! :D

there u go

There you go telling me
about things i dont know
"there are cherries blooming
in the streets of Tokyo
just before autumn comes
and kill them all"
and i know only of the things
in my town
"There in the streets of Imphal
the armies are patrolling,

such a masquerading sight it is.
there in the street of Churchandpur
a HIV positive girl is walking with a stick
singing her evening song
looking for her evening dose"

India! how nice of you.

India! how nice of you.
you keep all your armies
in my town
and make our lives hell
 my brothers and sisters
are all scattered here and there
and now you target them

India we are done with you
Set us free now
We are done with your constitution
we are done with your preamble
we dont need your Hindu-Muslim hatred
we have our own hate going on
between meitei-naga, kuki-naga

Take back you armies
we take back our sisters and brothers
we are done with you
we no longer wanna fill the passport form
that asks us
"Are you a rightful citizen of this country?"

Nice to know you

We sang the song marching against the barricade
we cried together many autumns for the fallen leaves
and for the friends who have left us behind
we climbed the hills together to find truth
in their lie "you can't find peace anywhere"

and one cold winter night
while walking back from the cemetery
you held my hand and put the other in my pocket.
i thought you knew i had nothing

Then the train came whistling
and you said "i got to leave
i got my bag packed"
and looked at me like never before
and said "Nice to know you akhu"

You sure had learnt how to say goodbye
without saying it

Mae Hong Son Poetry

Little poems of the mountains,
they waged war against me
with leeches and rain
but i braved them all
drinking local whiskey
till i was out of my sense
now i found them all
as my prisoners of war
Now i will execute them one after another
we threw ourselves against the mountain
and it embraced us with rain leeches
The mountain knows it all
but it is just not in the mood
to tell you what have you become
what have you lied for
what have you lived for
what have you done
the mountain knows it all
everything is pointless
even this climbing..
Every evening
The sun sits on her rooftop
as she sits lavishly
sipping green tea
the little book of war poems
some times
she writes long letter to her warrior
"tonite i will be your poppy flower
come pluck me off my warrior
the bed shall be your battle field
and i will bleed for your love"
Since the first night in the mountain
a poem has been following me
like a possessive lover
What do i do with it?

midnight cows

and the midnight cows listen to Spin doctors
through the head phones chewing their own dreams
getting bored of the philosophy class.
when they have time they laugh at the lovers
about how they lie and die so hopelessly

they enjoy rain in winter for they hate to go in the field
they smell their own asses and blame the peasants
they sing folk songs in every festival in the town
they walk lavishly in the streets with their young ones
telling their histories and boundaries they have made
by pissing and shitting around the town


A sparrow saw me naked
and flew away
before i could bribe it,
now i dont know
what will be the rumor in this town

yes I am happy

she came from a broken family
and left me broken
pounded my heart with her lover's hammer
and now she stands their like a queen
laughing telling me
 "she sometimes feel bad about me"

and in many nights she writes
"are u happy akhu?"
i once was her king
without my kingdom
and then traded my worries
with many cheap bottles of alcohol
and drank till i dropped myself to sleepl

country between us

in the country between us
the hungry and naked children
they turn into fireflies at nights
and the poet worries of the town
with no traffic signals
and the singer sings the best
when her lips are cracked
and they dont have the month July
but only rain and rain
to soak their painful bodies
in the fields of poppies

The Indian

his jokes are not even funny
he supports Narendra Modi
and he talks like a parrot
he does not drink or eat meat
he calls his wife before he buys his shirt
He thinks Hussain should have thought
 before the painting is done
He said loud
"yes yes Buddha is quite well known in India"
he has urinary tract infection
but doesnt want to pay from his pocket
he thinks it is Thai king's responsibility

he says his wife asked him to get thai massage
he has to see Pattaya  in 3000 baht
He carries a water bottle everywhere

and now he is coming to sit in my office
as he has to wait for his bus
that will arrive at 11.30 pm

what am i supposed to do?
shud i disappear??

O boy

Once had a friend
who called me in the middle of the night
and said "just finished Nehru's Discovery of India
Now I can solve our state's problem"
while i was busy preparing petrol bombs
with empty whiskey bottles
for the morning roads

O boy! he was preparing for civil service examination

lets go to the river

Lets go to the river
thats where we left our innocence
since then we have been patients

we know the way
thats where we caught the grasshoppers
in those colorful days of summer

lets go to the river
it's been days we have not swum
isn't it hard to bear this burns?

we remember the song
of those olden days when we were young.
lets sing it out loud to quiet the loaded guns

Insomnia #10

a sparrow playing piano,
a pillow listening to radio,
a sofa acting like Al Pacino ,
a roll of toilet paper claiming to be the manifesto,
a crow singing soprano,
All in a night, all in a night
when I am the sleepless knight
rolling and tossing in my bed
as if it is where i sweat and bleed
and leak my life away little by little

4th of June

sometimes u wanna cut ur heart out and hangs it from a lamp post leaving it dry in the sun and walk away heartless

a friend

he was a friend of mine
he died on the road
and then became a hero
i said he was a simple man
they said "you dont talk
you dont know anything"

bicycling back

i met a bunch of dogs,
they looked like hooligans
they stared at me 
like they gonna eat me up
and it reminded of ur story 
of the man after the huj
but i kept my calm 
and acted like i have 
met many such dogs
and bicycled
checking out 
any shadows behind me


No one knows
she falls in love
like many times
as many as she quotes
killing of Manorama
and June 18th
in her articles
but she acts strong
like the big stone
at which folks pray.
... she would talk endlessly
of Karl Marx in the class room
but outside the room
she would sing Richard Marx.
she knows she is not consistent at all

the rains

the rains had forgotten me.
when i came out
there was only people
and wet umbrellas


Met a man with out name
he was there for the game and fame
but i dont kinow
why was i there

found a song with out a singer
called it mine, sang it my way
but i dont know
if you like it

me and her, have so many plans
just to hitch hike across Bhutan
but i dont know
when will october come

I really dont know why am i here
I really dont know

for my cousin brother

it has been years
since i saw you last time..
i dont even remember when
now i heard the news
that you killed urself
i want to say so manythings
but there is no point now
as you are gone

we dont even have a grave
where i can go and offer a flower to you
but i know your body has turned into ashes
and smoke that filled the sky.
here it is raining from the sky
so i would walk in rain now
and this is how i meet you
this is how i say i cared for you
even i never bothered to ask

Who th fuck is calling me now?

Who is calling me now?
Is it Bukowski
trying to boast around
he fucked all the whores of america?
I know it already
that's why all these pervert americans are here in Thailand.
Yes! he has screwed many sleepless nights of mine too
when i feel like a dog who knows not how to bark.

Who is calling me now?
Is it the poetry
i left unwritten next to the guava tree
at Sukothai Mountain?
i did not know poetry can be that stubborn
to ask you to write them down?

Who is calling me now?
Is it Kolatkar
Trying to tell me i can never be an Indian poet
with my chinky looks?
i know i can't look like any indian maps like him
and his map of Bombay
but still my surname Chingangbam
rhymes with Chidambaram

who is calling me now?
Is it my LIC agent fren Chaoba?
I have told him already
i neither have intention to have children
nor ready to make some one rich after i die
when i have such a miserable life
when i am alive.

Who is calling me now?
Is it my underwear
that i left wet and torn by the bank of imphal river?
How the hell does he get my number?
I told him already he didnt fit me.
Now i got bigger balls
just to have big fights with the world.
And i feel much better
without wearing underwear

Who is calling me now?
Is it the police
for i write i hate them?
I still hate them i wont pick up their calls
they are dogs just like me
the difference is i am not owned by anyone

who is calling me now?
Is it the underground people
who wanted to produce my songs
without my knowledge
for they think i am a left.
No! i dont need their help
whether i am left or right
or up or down
I am fine with my songs

Who is calling me now?
Is it my ex lover?
doesnt she know
i need a good liver
just like anyone ?

who is calling me now?
Is it my newly married engineer fren thoiba?
I am tired of listening to his sex life stories
I dont care if he uses strawberry flavour or not
i dont care his wife over reacts or not.

Who is calling me now?
Is it God
trying to tell me he doesn't exist?
I am already convinced he doesnt exist.
Please let me sleep
it is 4.10 am in the morning

then u came

when spring left
love left the town
and everything looked so sad
and i did not want to live
my heart ceased to beat

then u came
in the month of may
wearing two little ear rings
of heart shape
one was mine
one was yours


clouds came
and all the lamp posts
stood up in surprise


Clouds have their own stories
they dont care
whether Israel is killing Palestine
or America is sucking oil out of every where
or a little indian is crapping
out in an open field
reading the most important news of his time
from jagran...

they take forms of what they want
sometimes they are elephants
sometimes nothing
and i dont think they like aeroplane


she says "i hate rich man
and what all they do with their money..
can i be with you, Akhu?"
looking at my torn shoes,,
she just does not know i am stinking rich
i have seven blogs
i have a folk rock band
i just bought three pairs of thai undergarments
i just filled up the tank of my bike for 100 bahts
i own a 4gb pen drive that too golden color
i have one rock opera in my mind
i am rich !

lamp post

my pressure cooker obsession
has been replaced by my new obsession
of lamp posts

every where i go
i keep noticing lamp posts
they are like human beings of all kinds
thin, slim, thick, fat,etc
some look rich and shiny
some look poor, made out of woods
and bend like an old man

here in thailand
they look mostly rich
straight and tall
with huge bulbs hanging so bright
over the clean roads.
when it rains
they look wonderful
against the blue sky

some of them look seriously busy
sending out wires across the hills and cities

but back home in imphal
lamp posts are more lively
even if there are no power
or bulb in them..

Eney Sakhi, the meira paibi secretary
will ring or knock the post
if lovers are caught having sex in my locality
alarming every one that having sex is a crime

even when indian army invaded
my locality for combing operation
the famous Sakhi will ring the post
alarming there is unwanted trouble.

sometimes out of fun
we would ring the lamp post
and every one would come out
thinking it is the arrival
of the infamous Assam rifles
or some old man has been caught with a woman
near by bank of the Imphal river


my brand new moreh rice cooker
arrives in the capital
walking along Indo Myanmar border
passing through many political flags
of KNF, UNLF, NSCN, etc.
while boiling tuta-hua-basmati rice
in the heat of summer
it says "Hey Akhu! i dont like this 'Look East Policy'
to me it rhymes with 'kill east policy'
and i also dont like the way you stare at me
when you are hungry"

im from imphal

met an old man
he cried "i ran from Bihar
to Bangladesh during partition
then they called me pakistani

then i hitch hiked all the way
to Pakistan
just for them to call me refugee
now i am here with no country to call mine"

he asked me what is your story
i said i am from Imphal

met a widow from Orissa
she cried "they killed him
inside the Church
for he served the lord all these years"

met a man from Chattisgarh
he cried "i had a home in Lalgarh
they burnt it down
raped my wife, killed the cattle"

they asked me what is your story
i said i am from Imphal

she had a bad day

my lover had a bad day
she was chased by two bees
and a leaf felt in her lemon tea
she burnt her tongues on hot momos
the fish she had at kerala store was stale
so she cursed the store
but she said she downloaded Glee
and the two teachers finally had sex

what has she been not?

oh what has she been not?
she has been a lover
she has been an artist
she has been a daddy's daughter

she says she hates rich men
and what they do with their money
she asks "can i be with you? "
looking at my torn shoes
but i own so many unpublished poems
and some many songs in my lips

she is an artist
she smokes weed
she wears peace in her shirt
she says this world needs radical art
she clicks her own pictures
and puts up an exhibition
all the uncles love it

 she sings out louder that Reed
"i wanna be black"
she owns the whole collection of William Blake
she is an artist

Now she wanna farm potatoes
and tomatoes
Now she wanna grow papaya
next to the church that sings hallelujah

She is an artist
she is a farmer
she is a peace lover
she is a smoker

Look at Us

look at us
how good we are with candles
in this scorching Indian summer
when they are so good with everything
rewriting and writing and erasing.

Blow off the candles
embrace the night.
they don't see us all these years.
we can hit them wherever we want

little high little lost i am

I am little high
and want to wear a necktie
and walk like a flamboyant guy
under this evening sky

come smell me
i smell better than these dead trees
also u can ask me
of all the gods of Jejuri

i just meet Arun Kolatkar
he follows me in buses and cars
he becomes a travelling poem for me
he buzzes in my ears like bees

I dont know Thai
and when i am little high,
at people i smile a lot
like a ball pen seller at ring road

I have 27 songs in my mind
and 27 bahts in my pocket
but it is all fine
when i am high, nothing is heavy except bullets

on my way back from Bangkok
to Phitsanulok
that mean bus driver forgot me
separating me and gods of Jejuri

but i found them back
even if they were as yellow as roadside Buddhas.
All these Indian Gods met here in Thailand
and i am their Indian who doesn't look like Indian

this cheap vodka is doing no good to me
it helps me write only cheap poetry
i thought great poetry would come tearing down the walls
like those truckloads of Indian Armies in Imphal.

It is 3 am
and i am acting drunk
i can't rhyme anymore
i can't rhyme Ukulele with PLA

It is 3.10 am
the lizard is croaking like frog
I am done now
let me stop

abyss of love

They are busy watching the Indo-Pakistan match
and the Govt is busy stealing,
Mamta didi too is busy looking out for her own cartoons
The revolutionaries too are busy buying Reebok sneakers
it is only you and me left in the street
Lets fall again once into that abyss of love


now the song sings me
while the goddess of insomnia whistles
playing ukulele out of tune
and i am ignoring them
acting busy trimming my moustache
when there is nothing left to trim

why haste

Oh Soldiers!
Slow down slow down
be cool
every one will get to die
including you...
no hurry


We dont know
that each of us is a living proverb
and almost all the proverbs say
"dont try to write or bring a new one
in this mean world"
but we really dont listen to it

she turning thirty soon

it was an usual evening
she said "i going to be thirty soon
i want to get married
my parents worry too much
and all the persons who love me
or like me dont even understand this"

wish i could help her
but i really dont belong there

she said "you are doing your parts well
writing poetry about me"

Those naked days

many years ago
Khuman Lampak was our play field
much before all the buildings came up.
many times we crossed the Imphal river naked
winter or summer we didnt care
we dug the earth for kakthum
we ran naked across the field
we caught fishes from the streams
along the bank
we hunted wahi from holes to holes

but one time
we decided to sell the fishes we caught
then we all headed naked wet and muddy
for the little tea and bora (pakora) stall
near the complex of Sports Authority of India (SAI)

the old woman refused to buy our fishes
but in exchange she offered us teas and pakoras
we had them and came back happily
naked and covered our butts with dry mud
we did not notice anyone in the hotel.
we came back talking
of how often we should come to the hotel
with fish

the next morning,
me and my mother went to buy some puris
for breakfast in a nearby hotel
then that spinster said to my mother
"Lembi, is that ur son?"
"yes" mother said
"please dont leave ur kid like a stray dog
it is very ashamed to say that he and his frens belong to my locality
they all came naked near my office and even had tea and pakoras
they are so shameless, how can they do that?"

Mother gave me a day long lecture then
while breakfasting,
while lunching, while dining.

and now i am no longer naked
unless drunk and forget my pant in toilet
nor khuman lampak is a play field
now it is with full of IRBs
and has become rich men's jogger's park.
that spinster too has got married in my neighbor
and has two sons and a daughter
but she still does not look at me

Ode to my parents

Last week was my parents' 33rd anniversary
I wanted to wish them but could not
as my phone hates to have balance
and i am their lazy and broke son

years ago
Father was an actor
he acted in GC Tongbra's play
Leisabi Chithi Kala

Mother did not know of it
till the day he said
"i am acting in a play
which will be staging tomorrow at MDU"

They had a huge fight
which i watched like a play
The fight happened cos one of the actress
in the play had given my father a sky blue colour sweater

I was fortunate enough
Mother undid the sweater
and knitted a new sweater for me
which i wore and became my favourite

I was hardly seven or eight years old
Mother took me to the Play
Father's first scene:
He got down from the bus

and said "there is nothing like eromba of Mao"
Father was the protagonist
who is a bombay returned
with a beautiful girl

There was a scene
where two girls fight over him
at that moment
mother wanted me to scream "baba"

which i could not
mother still says "i was a coward"
later i know why she wanted me to scream
she wanted everyone to know that actor is married and a father too

that night too
they had a fight
but it has been years
i have not seen them fighting

father quits acting
but still dreams to direct a film one day
sometimes he jokes
"Lembi! in my film u will get to act as a mother and i am the hero"

Happy 33rd anniversary, mother, father
I am thirty one with hundreds of poems
Thanks for this life
even if it is bit fucked..


Playing knuckle bones
She decided to change the world
then she wore what she wanted
and the world watched
and she became the color
of the earth and its joy

Tissue Poem- on the way to Sukhothai

The Highway was full of poetry
Some were playing hanging from trees
some were busy climbing up the lamp posts
The sun soon rose up
and melted them away in the streets
reminding me of many things
that happened back home in the streets
I am sure it is happening evrywhere
every dawn for there is Sun
for there is them you dont want


The mountain girl came back from spain
and said "let me take you to the mountains
You smell like the air out of your CPU fan


I am healed
but Gods play no role in it
they are busy
being tall and golden
at every possible roadsides

hate ants

I hate these red ants
they dont respect art
they climb all over
Kala Ghoda Poems
and Andy Warhol.
They think of themselves
as revolutionary, i think.

not fine

My ankle is swollen
I missed my lunch
the noodle was too spicy
and rubbery
the lady gate keeper left her
walkie-talkie on
and somebody
is singing in Thai in it
when i dont get to speak meiteilon
at all days and nights.
I saw her online
but my skype crashed

this is me
and i cant say life is fine

away from this Planet

I got to shift away from this Planet
i dont like anyone here
i dont like to read about Israel and Palestine
i dont wanna know America is a whore when it comes to oil
i dont even wanna write about it
i got to write it somewhere

To Be Contd

A Poem

i want to be a poem
written for you (with my names in it)
and read by your cracked lips

Drunk Lover- Me

The first day we met
i was drunk
and you said i was funny

Now whats wrong with you?
i have been drunk for nine months
and u look very angry all the time

Tomorrow is world poetry day

while having my usual night walk
listening to Finnish folk music
three dogs jumped out of a bush
and chased me down the lane

... one for not bothering bout poetry day
one for not trying to learn Thai
one for not wearing underwear
I guess!

Here the dogs always pick me out
and chase me..
how do they know I am an Indian
who dreams to eat Indian Army's dog meat
See More

Public Television

I am a public television
like one of those in railway platform
whether you watch me or not

I will keep reporting
of my own heart breaks
and torn pockets

I dont care of people around
like Indian Media.
I will report of my undergarments

I dont care who are dying
at my left and right.
I will report of my lover's puppies

I am a public television
I will go on
I don't care it is day or night

Lost in Thailand

I am lost in thailand
but I dont mind it

The other day a girl came up to me
and asked me “u want a lift”
I said 'yes'
“where do u wanna go?”
“where ever you go”
but she left me at a bar called “so say”
where the live music band sang in thai
I asked the waiter
she said “it is about roses”
a Vietnamese girl came up to me
selling a bunch of white roses
while I was wondering
should I smoke or not .
I bought a rose
for ten baht
but no one to gave it

I am lost in thailand
but I dont mind it

I turned on the television for the first time
in my room
I saw my country's beggar sitting in row
somewhere in Bombay
and the subtitle said
“The beggars will soon be part
 of an Art exhibition”
oh how I hated it..
but what can I do about it
I am lost in Thailand
I turned off the television
and switched on my earphone
and listen to Icelandic music
and slept off

I am lost in thailand
but I dont mind it

I heard the news
one of my frens passed away in his sleep
what can I do about it
I am lost in thailand

I heard of many atrocities
 back in my hometown
what can I do about it
I am lost here
the govt is back in its power
what can I do
they will kill more and more
what can I do
I am just a foreigner here
loving every bite of my meals here
I am lost drowning 
in the gravy of Suki yaki
what can I do if u are not drowning
 but dying somewhere

To my darling

the dogs here are unlike Indian dogs
they dont wave their tails
They dont have a reaction

They dont bark like the ones in your campus
But they stare at me like I am just fallen from the sky
i think they need to be fed Tiger biscuits.

The bikes here dont have clutch
So they ride holding drinks in one hand
the pineapples taste like the ones from my hometown
small and sweet just like you too.
there is nothing in my room
except a sofa set and television that i dont use
i dont have a kitchen

i miss cooking for you
I miss my pressure cooker and its whistles
i miss seeing you eat hot rice
with the steam blurring your spectacle.

I like to think i am lost here
but in a good way
everyone is happy
no one talks of politics
everyone loves their king
they pray for the queen
and i am losing my politics
struggling with chopsticks
 everyday and night
the other night i write a song
i wanted to be political
so the chorus is
"I will catch bullets with chopsticks"
and named it "chopstick blues"

Poetry has been replaced
by mystery of the Universe
or i can't write poetry in higher altitude
i am on fourth floor
Poetry has stopped coming to me

my colleague took me to a river named Khek
which is 37kms away from the University
and i peed inside the river
so i have peed inside two rivers so far
the first one was Imphal River,
it was many years ago
when  Imphal was as innocent as my pee
but this time it was the whiskey called Regency
it just tasted like some single malt expensive scotch.

An Italian professor arrived today
they all said he is a great physicist
and he goes to church every sunday
he wanted me to talk about my work
i wanted to talk about my country
i have loved my country so much
that i can't see it bleeding
but i talked crap for what i will be paid for

I dont like sea foods
they taste like rubber
or like chewing rubber
I miss the smell of my kitchen
my room now has grasshoppers
they are black in colors
i think they like to watch
thai pop music channels
they sit still for hours in my sofa
staring at the television
while i watch the channel for girls
I wonder have i really killed
 all those rats in my delhi kitchen
with that poison.
did they nose bleed to death?
are they all paralysed and gone mad?

almost everyday here i have iced cappucino
cos other coffees i dont know in cafeteria.
They love ice here.
They love noodles here....
They say lives here are simple
as transparent as their glass noodles

I dreamt of Joseph Kony

Last night
I dreamt of Joseph Kony
(blame all the news and posts).
Somewhere near Mayang Imphal
I met him in a tea hotel
Called "Ibemcha Tea Hoten"
He said reading Poknafam
"No one fasts in Uganda against me
Or against my Army.
And see! you have a lady fasting
For 12 fucking years
Against the Army and the Act
And no one knows about it.
Why don't u call Jason Rusell??
He may start something like
"Invisible Chinkies"
Or cry at Obama's feet
They will send you American forces"
Oh Joseph !
You dont know anything.
They are the armies
Of my own country
Who salute at the tri-color flag.
By the way, Joseph!
You look a lot like our own Joseph
From Nokphadey
Poknafam- An Imphal based Newspaper
Nokphadey- A comedy video film series produced in Imphal during nineties but still a big hit. Joseph is one of the actors in it.

Spring here

It is spring here
the trees are not confused
to accept the new leaves
like i am so confused
the evening wind smells
like woman's shampooed hair
the insects have invaded the tube light
in my balcony
the crickets are louder
the water melon seller lady smiles
like never before
she knows i want water melon
the pineapples are getting cheaper
it is spring here
and i become a foreigner
and i look a lot like them
unlike in my own country

Am i that dirty?

Go to Toilet
u see a roll of tissue paper
Go to restaurant or bar
u see tissue paper looking out for your hands
out of a funny box that may have a face of an elephant
Go to 711
all u see is Tissue paper
u take a ride in somebody;s car
u find tissue paper...

Life is so dependant here on tissue paper.
Are u that dirty??


sometimes I am
a drowsy walking bottle of cough syrup
blame the holy family doctor
he even said i should not sing for six months
till i heal my throat and stop coughing..
but i have so much to shout
so much to protest


Hey Juliet
you got no romeo around
everyone in town hates your black gown
what makes you think you are a star
everyone is busy fighting the war
you lift your skirt
walk like a princess in dirt.
open your eyes it is your lover's blood
in the streets, in the rivers, in the mountains
everyone is busy, they dont care how you look

you say you love sylvia plath
as you hate your daddy and his pets
but u have never loved anyone, you know that
you speak good english, you love america
and you are busy trying to reach california

you polish your nails with all the colors
you are counting number of widows for your books
they call you “woman of the year”
for you say this world has become Hitler's gas chamber
and at the mirror you smile like you are sweet sixteen

you listen to Lennon
and say you dont believe in Nationalism
and you sing in the temple for your religion.
playing with your long black hair
you tell the fools you are writing a long essay

when someone is getting better than you
you say you raise your daughter alone
when someone is praising you
you say you are just trying to make this land right
will you ever stop being hypocrite?

You love to dine with suited and booted men
but you say it is an important appointment
and you hate their wives for they are fools and rich
and you write “this land is beyond redemption”.
will you ever stop being hypocrite, Juliet?

laziness lays coins

changed my bed sheet
and found so many coins.
i think i lay coins
when i am lazy


Do not blame me for my exaggeration
my poetry demand it
like every oppressed land demands a revolution

Nothing is right

Nothing is right
I cough like i am eighty

she got nice fingers
every time i cough
she would stare at me
like I am a cancer patient
she would offer me a glass of water
when i want is her love

Nothing is right
I am on a plane flying back home
i walk out of the plane as it lands
She says "Thank you" with a smile
I say "you got lovely fingers" coughing

They say they are not lover

I dont know
what all they do inside the room
locked up whole day
they say they are not lovers
they cook together
i hear them through my kitchen
talking about pressure cooker

I dont know
what all they do inside the room
they come out with wrinkles on their shirts
they never seem to have combed their hairs
they say they are not lover.

These Rats

the rats cry me a river
biting my old cassette player
as they pity me
when they see me
married to my blanket 
through out the winter in bed
O how i hate these rats
I am going to pet a cat

I just heard him

I just overheard a rickshaw puller telling his wife "dont worry darling, this world is run by fools calling themselves politicians, doctors, engineers, professors, artistes, etc. and they are sleepless ,,u know..,,but we sleep our nights calm with dreams...may be we have sweated so much,,,still we sleep well...lets make love tonite ,,,lets make sure our babies  dont become one of them..."

Confession of a Liver

Dont blame me for all the drinks
Dont blame me for being so drunk
It is my fucking Liver
He is so suicidal unlike me
who has been promised by my lover
a bright future with lots of money
and babies

when i am into my senses
I heard my liver scolding me
"Akhu, why do u wanna live so long
U have lived enuf
and this is a fucked  world
U cant change it
all U love is sleeping
all U love is dreaming
forget ur dead farmers
many will die ...beleive me
they are all indians

I tell u again this is a fucked world
u dont even have to read the newspapers
u dont even believe in God to carry on
with all the beliefs and lies

tell ur lover
not to waste money buying you ur undergarments
u dont need them at all still
Tell ur lover
not to waste money buying books for you
books wont do anything good to you
they will make u sleepless
stop reading latin poetry
stop everything, it is pointless
just drink. smoke a lot
nothing much left to do
stop blogging
stop writing bad poetry
ur english sucks
ur manipuri poems, no one cares..
stop singing
stop crying
stop worrying
stop abusing ur frens
just ask urself
u love drinking..

I know u dont wanna sleep
with women anymore
u r not even virgin to wait
for the right woman

I am a liver and reddish brown in colors
like any great revolution
yet i wanna be white
like dead children in ghost movies
I am protected by ur rib cage
yet I am sucidal
I am rubbery, i can take shapes
yet i am suicidal

this country is not gonna do anything good for u
what makes u wanna live
drink for me
make me wet
and put a fucking big full stop in your life
Akhu! dont be stupid
Drink everyday
Everyone is a liar
except me

dont worry for ur parents
they will make it,,
dont worry for ur lover
she will find a better person
with a better liver""

Busy Cooking

I am busy cooking
I shud not be fucking disturbed
becos I am not trying to change your world

Finance Me

Finance me, Ill sing for you
just like you are a Vietnam war returned Hero
even if there is no war

O my liver

Oh my Liver!
My lover is crying a river
for you
for the damage done to you
by all these Sekmai and Anro booze

an alcoholic liar

Do not believe what the science books say about nights
The truth is I gave the night Sun away
in one drunken night to my lover
along with my soul,
she ran away with the Sun refusing my soul.
.Since then you have nights
Since then my soul rhymes with alcohol

without poetry

Without Poetry
All i have is poverty
and also I am ugly

I will walk away

Some day soon I will walk away
I am done here
this world is not mine
this country is not mine
this love is not mine
this poetry is not mine
this music is not mine

Someday I will walk away
I will name all the dogs in the streets
and kill them eat them one by one
this is what this world do to us
they give you names
and kill you, electrocute you
shoot you, rape you, hit you.

Someday i will walk away
i forgot what i promised to my parents
i dont remember names of my friends
i dont remember my way back home
i dont care for what they die for
death is over hyped

Someday i will walk away
i am not ready to marry any widows
I am not a good man
I am neither sad nor wet with sweat
someday i will burn this town
someday i will kill them all
burn them all along with chillies

someday i will walk away
i dont know where
i dont know when
but i will walk away with out poetry in my head
I will walk away empty
I will walk away dead
I will walk away with alocohol in my veins
I will walk away

It was love

For me it was all for love
For her it was a daily routine
I dont know who is Laishram Kala
but his two sons were beaten up by police men
she said
“you know! mistaken Identity!”
I rode her to Kwakeithel Kongjengbam leikai
she carelessly sat on my Honda CD 100
unlike other flamboyant girls
who will refuse my bike
unlike other lovers who often say
to each other “I love you”
we dont say any thing
we just say it thru our fingers
with our blocked noses at nights
seperated by miles and miles
Seperated by many of her patients
and buildings and sleeping beauties

Her breast touched my back
i could feel it through my jacket
we found Laishram Kala's place
she said “how will u leave me here alone?”
I knew i would wait for her
She went and started a conversation
leaving her rucksack with me
i saw her noting down things
talking to the victims
and i found myself noting down all the things
we have had in past many months in my mind.

I met her when i was alcoholic
We are being seperated by lovers
We are being seperated by Imphal and Delhi
We are the victims of ourselves
We cried to each other
we tried to act strong to each other
we acted like we were fine many times
but we both knew we want each other

She walked towards me with a lady
i though she was done
then she showed her two sweet fingers to me
meaning she would take two more minutes..

my waiting continues
i looked around not for her .
i saw the yellow mustard flowers blooming
against the barbed wires
I saw two little bees humming
may be they were teasing me for my wait
I saw a black puppy smelling its own arse
i saw a pond full of water hyacinth ...

There she came out
and we headed back
wish i could tell her I enjoyed waiting for her
and I will enjoy it whole of my life
I will love to write whole of my life for her
such lousy poems

Sometimes she said “I love all your poems
I love them better when they are about me ”
She said them all with a giggle
To me the giggle was her smile

ah our telephonic love conversation
at such night does nothing good to me and her
I know she must have been staring at the emptiness
inside her mosquito net just like I do
just to write this poem.
when she speaks with her nose blocked
I wish my hands could reach her
i wish i could smell her skin
and whisper in her ears “what went wrong
that i dont have you now in my arms”

Fuck you Imphal

Imphal, I know
you have never this alive.
All your folks are merry making
your heart beats with all the bomb blasts in joy
Your sky always looks blue
Your poets always love you
Like Thanil
of Pacha's Imphal and Its Weather Report.
Flags of your political parties
wave in joy in your dusty gunpowdery air

But I tell you now
standing upon your heart with my leather boots
Fuck You Imphal
Fuck your people
Fuck their campaigns
Fuck their cries for justice
Fuck them all
Fuck the NGOs
Fuck the police men
Fuck the 28 Assam Rifles in MU
Fuck all the professors
Fuck your Wakching rain
Fuck your surrounding hills
Fuck your fuck
Fuck you before you bleed again
on BT Road
Fuck you before another 18th june comes
Fuck you before another Sharmila comes
Fuck you before another Chitaranjan burns himself on Tidim Road
Fuck you your merry making drunken fools
Fuck you your corrupt politicians with their corrupt wives
Fuck you for your forgetfullness

She loves America

She loves America
She introduced Ginsberg to me
when i was a little boy
and I learn to hate America from Ginsberg..

The other day
I saw her with America
and now i know why she left me
so proudly and honestly

she said dont cry in front of me Akhu
i hate to see you cry
and drink less, change your trouser
keep writing poems for all the girls

She loves to wear fine dresses
i saw her in her finest coat with America
sporting a french cut
standing at copernicus marg

But never she has heard of Nicanor Parra
and his lines “USA
Where Liberty is a statue”
oh I am little jealous

I am little jealous
as in my hometown
Revolution is a tall building
and I am not America

a sad man in bed

I drink too much' i say to myself
every morning before i wake up
but i have nothing to sing
I am a sad man in my bed,
abusing the rats
listening to Blind Pilot.

I give blood, they give me orange juice
i give poetry, they give me weather report
they say “dont go out
it is a sad cold winter day
with teary eyes blinded by fogs.
cook something good
do u still have spring onion?
boil some cauliflower with peas and tomatoes
don't worry for your empire
winter will take care of it
with its coldness
no corpse will get spoilt

do something good for urself
trim your moustache
you have been eating with it
stop singing
“Why dont u just die
why dont u just stop living?
What is the point in life?”

you are a patient
your pillows know it all
you forget the name of the city
dont go out dont walk away
no matter how much a man walk
he will die with his body
not with the names of the roads
there is nothing wrong with the city
nothing right about the city
it is you!
It is your sleep that walks away
you are a dead man in disguise
there is no music left in you
you have had them all played many times
when you hated lovers
when you failed to be one

just learn to sleep
dont walk away “

love is older than your grandfather

Love is older than your grandfather
dont act like you have never heard of it
dont act like it is new to you

Love is older than your folks
when i say i love you
respect it, dont just deny it