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