Sensitive graces!

the sound of footsteps,
which curl up my toes
the distant worlds,
that make fresh tears roll

when each and every well in this form
becomes deserted,
drier than the autumn leaves but wailing,
 retching, howling with the wind
cannot long for a summer shower
so i beg for a typhoon.

it may completely rip me out but then i can
grip this truth for a little longer
tick and tok

with winter i have the typhoon i begged for,
breath of relief and a some more hope
i like the storm and how better it feels like home
even when all this time long I’ve been living on the shore

Mandavi Sharma


Rush Hours

There’s no cadence in morning rush hours
The frustration from the brevity of time
As anger burst like atomic bombs
and words splattered
like spilt tea on a white sheet;
Even self consciousness
becomes unconcious
as it swallowed benevolence
as it unchewed conversations
and devoured the serene day.
This wild madness
In morning rush hours
Ceased to numbness
as we rush in through the day-
May be the ritual of our madness
Pays salary to the oblivion
and owes debt to morning rush hours.
This wild madness
In morning rush hours

Rangkitbok C Dikrud

Showers from the lord

Our Heavenly lord, the Creator.
Touching everyone with the down pouring.
The welcoming of Dawn with the drizzling coupled with fog and thunderstorm.
The slight sprinkles on the face having imagined.
laying on bed, waking up from this dream
the showers from the lord in reality, fills one with Divine grace.
Announcement of morning with the light rain.
Starting out with daylight occupied with showers,
escaping the walls of the room.
The warmth of the sun is not what the heart desires
but dampening the fires of anger, jealousy and frustrations in this joyous showers.
Rain filled wind blends with the soul.
Making one complete and whole.
With the coming of noon, rain comes with force.
But the sense of peace and happiness remains intact, in spite of the heavy violent pour.
The evening comes with a steady shower
and the mumbles of denizens offering prayers.
Rain drops at night lulls watchers to sleep
where the soul is bonded with a feeling of a new tomorrow
and more positivity as well as goodness to borrow.
Erasing the misery and sorrows are the Showers from the lord.


A Requiescat in  Pace

Speed forth, O Soul! upon thy star-strewn path ;
Speed, blissful one! where thought is ever free,
Where time and space no longer mist the view,
Eternal peace and blessings be with thee!

Thy service true, complete thy sacrifice,
Thy home the heart of love transcendent find ;
Remembrance sweet, that kills all space and time,
Like altar roses fill thy place behind!

Thy bonds are broke, thy quest in bliss is found,
And one with That which comes as Death and Life ;
Thou helpful one! unselfish e’er on earth,
Ahead! still help with love this world of strife!

The Golden Casket

Melban Lyngdoh
The Golden Casket
Bloom of a new light,
Gold - as precious as diamond.
Box full of new mystery.
Open it and you will be swallowed,
Ignore it and you will be chased.
Wonders that were never seen
Time and day will fail to cease.
Dark as the starry sky you see,
Feelings that were never heard or felt to spell
You may see it but fail to be felt
You cannot get out until you answer it,
You cannot hear it until you question it.
Once you answer it day will come
You will forget it all, and it will vanish.
You won’t find it,
You won’t see it.
The secret will be revealed for once and forever,
Days will start again from where it stopped.

Back to Autumn 2022


Manphika Surong
She hides herself, when she’s most beautiful.
She clothes herself, with luminous grace.
Her lustrous desires never ceases,
As she peeks on every face.
She hears the young ones cry,
And the soft moans of the sky.
To her,
Every secret is known.
Every pain unveiled.
She sees the wounds of the little women;
The romantic dates of young lovers.
Some days, it’s murderous attempts.
She can save, not a single soul.
She hears the silence of the city,
And the roar of a man’s heart.
To her,
Every desire is revealed.
Every soul is uncovered.
As she clothes herself with luminous grace.

Back to Autumn 2022

To The Awakened India

Swami Vivekananda
Once more awake!
For sleep it was, not death, to bring thee life
Anew, and rest to lotus-eyes for visions
Daring yet. The world in need awaits, O Truth!
No death for thee!
Resume thy march,
With gentle feet that would not break the
Peaceful rest even of the roadside dust
That lies so low. Yet strong and steady,
Blissful, bold, and free. Awakener, ever
Forward! Speak thy stirring words.
Thy home is gone,
Where loving hearts had brought thee up and
Watched with joy thy growth. But Fate is strong—
This is the law—all things come back to the source
They sprung, their strength to renew.
Then start afresh
From the land of thy birth, where vast cloud-belted
Snows do bless and put their strength in thee,
For working wonders new. The heavenly
River tune thy voice to her own immortal song ;
Deodar shades give thee eternal peace.
And all above,
Himala’s daughter Umâ, gentle, pure,
The Mother that resides in all as Power
And Life, who works all works and
Makes of One the world, whose mercy
Opens the gate to Truth and shows
The One in All, give thee untiring
Strength, which is Infinite Love.
They bless thee all,
The seers great, whom age nor clime
Can claim their own, the fathers of the
Race, who felt the heart of Truth the same,
And bravely taught to man ill-voiced or
Well. Their servant, thou hast got
The secret—’tis but One.
Then speak, O Love!
Before thy gentle voice serene, behold how
Visions melt and fold on fold of dreams
Departs to void, till Truth and Truth alone
In all its glory shines—
And tell the world—
Awake, arise, and dream no more!
This is the land of dreams, where Karma
Weaves unthreaded garlands with our thoughts
Of flowers sweet or noxious, and none
Has root or stem, being born in naught, which
The softest breath of Truth drives back to
Primal nothingness. Be bold, and face
The Truth! Be one with it! Let visions cease,
Or, if you cannot, dream but truer dreams,
Which are Eternal Love and Service Free.

Back to Autumn 2022.

Kali the Mother

The stars are blotted out,
The clouds are covering clouds,
It is darkness vibrant, sonant,
In the rolling whirling wind.
Are the souls of a million lunatics,
Just loosed from the prison-house,
Wrenching trees by the roots,
Sweeping all from the path.
The sea has joined the fray,
And swirls up mountain-waves,
To reach the pitchy sky,
The flash of lurid light.
Reveals on every side,
A thousand, thousand shades,
Of death begrimed and black…..
Scattering plagues and sorrows.
Dancing mad with joy,
Come, Mother, come!
For terror is Thy name,
Death is in Thy breath.
And every shaking step,
Destroy a world for e’er,
Thou “Time”, the All-Destroyer!
Come, O Mother, come!
Who dares misery love,
And hug the form of Death,
Dance in Destruction’s dance
To him the Mother comes.

Ka Mei Kali

La pynkylla khasi da I Bah P S Lyngdoh

Ki lyoh slap ki tap ïa ki lyoh,
Dei ka jingdum ba tyngshaiñ phyrnai, ba kyrhuh,
Ha ka jingtyllun ka lyer ba siaw wiaw-wiaw.
Dei ki mynsiem jong ki milian ki riew anna,
Tang ba la duh noh na ka iing set byndi,
Ba jynrat ïa ki dieng naduh tynrai,
Da kaba sar naphang ïa baroh na ka lynti iaid.
Ka duriaw ka la iasnoh kti ha ka jingiabeh thong,
Bad ka paswut shajrong lum kum lat-lat,
Ban poi sha ka sahit bneng ba kah dum,
Ka jingtyngshaiñ ka jingshai baphyrnai.
Kaba pynpaw ha baroh ki liang,
Da ki hajar, hajar ki syrngiew jingkah dum
Jong ka jingiap ba pyn-i kynsha bad ba-iongngit…
Ka jingpang khlam ba saphriang kylleng bad ki jingsngewsih.
Ka da shad lamwir lem bad ka jingkmen,
Ale, Mei, ale!
Naba long ba sngew shyrkhei ka kyrteng Jongpha,
—Ka Jingiap long ka jingring-pynhiar mynsiem Jongpha,
Bad ha man ki synjam bakhynñiuh,
Ba pynjot ïa ka pyrthei junom bhor,
“Ka por” Jong Pha, ka Nongpynjot-ia baroh!
Ale, Ko Mei, ale!
Mano ba shlan ïa ka jingieid ba pynsngewsih,
Bad kdup ha ka dur jong ka Jingiap,
Shad ha ka Jingshad ba pynjot noh,
Ha u te I Mei i wan.