Born and brought up in Ukhrul, a small town in Manipur inhabited by the Tangkhul Naga, I had the chance to see the turmoil prevailing in that beautiful place due to the on-going Naga nationalist movement. I grew up seeing and hearing heroic tales on one side and and tales of suffering, torture and tears on the other hand. As a typical village boy, I was a wild child and was one with nature but also shared a part in undressing the beauty of the wild; for I love hunting and bird trapping......Reading, writing, carpentry, electrical works are some of my passions though I sustain myself as a technical writer..........
The grainy moments of life get sifted
Abiding the laws of regeneration
Thus returns the pain of Mortality
Breaking a peaceful trance
...
Life flies on like a wounded butterfly
Mornings filled with hope thinking it's a new day
Yet nothing 'NEW' seems to dawn
I traveled within the same circle
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Brothers are we, doomed to fight
To uphold ideologies created by man
It was hard to watch the headless corpse
Of my brother slaughtered by my brother.
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Glued to the addictive touch of life
I remembered my dear mother
When they pointed lead spitting machine to my forehead
Powered to smoke out brains and blood.
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I saw her perched on a cemetery cross
To welcome me home to the place I belong
One rainy day long time ago
Beating the darkness with her bright dress.
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