I and my country are like husband and wife

I and my country are like husband and wife

But I don’t know who the wife is

Or who the husband is

But it really doesn't matter as i think of myself

As a feminist whether you like it or not

And there was no way I could beat or exploit my country

Instead it makes me taste its blood and sweat

Through many peasants and disappeared Kashmiris and Manipuris

Through many who sing “I had a life in Lalgarh

I had a wife in Chattisgarh”

Long ago, me as a poetry maniac,

Wrote a long poem about me being in 69 position

With my country, it fed me its blood

I didn't know of it till the day I saw those carved stones

at Khajuraho

Now here is a moment to leave my country

But I love it so much, as much as I love the poem

“I wanted to be killed by an Indian bullet” by Ibopsihak

I may come back very soon

I protest for my living

Without my country how will I live.

Without my country I will be poetry-less

I will be protest-less

And I will be so jobless

My country is my poetry

My country is my poverty

I may be its wife who gets fucked only when it is doped

smacking gun powder and blood as lubricant.

Once it came wearing a pair of leather boots

In the streets of Imphal

And made me lie down in front of Kangla gate

And I was sexed in broad day light

I saw many TG school girls too bleeding

It was the time Netaji got killed.

Since I have been married as a minor

To my country and its atrocities

And now I am deeply in love with it

It is so beautiful with its cruelty and brutality

Me and my lover, my mistress, would talk behind it

My mistress would say, “It is snowing in my hometown,

Darling, how do you imagine your hometown in this beautiful winter”

I would say, “May be a dead body is lying somewhere in a field covered with dew drops”

She would say ,“Aww, you are lucky, it is just snow fall in my town but you’ve got human body falling in your home town”

We talk a lot of my country

As we are scared of it

As it owns both of us...