Eternal enigma

Is it time
who has changed,
Or is it us?


Ought to we gape in surprise,
Or is time
the one
who
Ought to be guilty?
‪

#‎To_the_Night‬
‪#‎Upon_an_encounter_With_Agha_Shahid_Ali‬

© Rajkumar Panthoiren 

Eternal connection of an unfulfilled love

You, dear, had said
You would leave me.


How can it be,


When


I haven't left you?

‪#‎forTON

© Rajkumar Panthoiren

Dikhou gi Torban da (In the Bank of Dikhou river)

(A tribute poem by Hijam Irabot in remembrance of Rajarshi Bhagyachadra/Chingthangkhomba)


Dikhou gi tupthupta                         wangma gi hidenda

                Numitna erujaba Ure!

Nongchup fige hongle                   chingya kori chelle

                Mit choiningdre ningthire fajare!

Ee gi ee ngakta chelle                     thak thak nikle

                Ngashisu koktribara adungeigi?

Dikhou gi ningshing echenda          taothari mang ama

                Ngashidi taibangni!!

Lin tongba firan na                         haina humna atiyada

                Pairammi torban asida!

Meitei ningthou yaifaba                Chingthangkhomba akanba

                Mayek lana eri thabak ta!

Fousi esei sakli                                 aadagi chingdon asidani

                “Moraal” – Dikhou turban da

Meitei thamaoi binada                    paalli pancham surda

                Manipur sana leibak ta!

Notes- 

Lin tongba firan: the ancient royal flag of Manipur

“Moraal”: a village situated near the bank of Dikhou river

Dikhou river in Assam 
source: internet

Ancient royal flag of Manipur
source: internet

Pyrrhic dance by Bhagyachandra
After suffering defeat at the hands of the Burmese in 1765, Maharaj Jai Singh, later Rajarshi Bhagyachandra, on his way to Cachar to seek political refuge, performed the traditional martial dance with a spear standing on a slab of stone perched precariously on the edge of a precipitous cliff of the Khebu hills in Tamenglong district, the Western part of Manipur, with a view to having a prescience of what Fate would lay in store for him. If he could complete the forceful ritual dance, so he thought in himself, without the stone sliding down, he would surely be able to recover his lost territory and wreak vengeance on the enemy.
Extracted from: History of Manipur in Paintings (1709 A.D.-1949 A.D.) by RKCS (All rights belong to the RKCS Museum of Arts and Crafts.) 

     

Dear JC.

Hey Jesus,
I see the candlelight shining on you
And your deep blue eyes seem to sparkle.

I haven't met you, don't know you.
Don't even have your number.
Does the Pope have it or the local Pastor?
I know not.

But your calm face makes me calm too.
Did you even exist or did you not?
Doesn't really matter,
'Cause you are a lot cooler than all those

who merely exist, and live not;
But you live!

I don't know where your blood lies,
Or where the line goes,
Or where the Knights lie in eternal guard;
I just know that you ever echo in the Sistine Chapel, in the great arts,

in divine melodies, in the dark chambers of a troubled heart, in legends…

Though I'm not a Christian or anything,
You never cease to amaze me.
Someday, I wanna meet you

(and surely, we will!)

Will bring along Tom Hanks,
Robert Langdon and Dan Brown for company
(Tom is a fabulous human being and actor, and Langdon is a Harvard University Professor).

These friends of mine are as much bedazzled and touched by you as I am.
And I assure you, it's never boring talking with them. 

For now, just a missed call will do! 

(Note to readers: This is a light poem with a slight touch of humour. It doesn't mock or intend to mock any religion and their believers. Rather, the poet is expressing his admiration of the simplicity of this humane figure that exudes a sense of peaceful charm. Also, loving a certain creative artist(s) doesn't mean disrespecting a religion. Cheers to an open mind! Peace.)

 © Rajkumar Panthoiren

A world too small

Where hopes fly high.

In the clouds, a teardrop hides.

Oh come rain, come rain

Shower on me your pain.

It’s teardrops that are falling.

© Rajkumar Panthoiren

Hidden Verse of my Heart

Takhidriba eshei gi sur gum

Fongdana leihwba wahei gum

Thaplaba lamdam amagi wari gum

Hayeng magi asha ama gum

Esana esabu fngjaba gum

Hwkhrababu bidai pikhiba gum

Asit awan thagi angaoba malang gum

Eigi thamoina nwhwna ningsinglakpa gum

Eigi minokna amuk hallakpa gum…

© Rajkumar Panthoiren

Down To Earth!

Empty house
And empty roads
Fill my heart
With tears of yore

The cadence comes
And the music ends
The night is late
It's time to part

Say your sorry and goodbyes
It's been 30 years
Lost your nearest and dearest ones
Their faces remain
Their voices haunt

Wishing to go back
And change
Tell them what remained
What it means to you.

But then, you can't help it
The tide has turned
You're too far away

Caught in a time warp
Uneasy and so empty
You could drown..

One whole desert.

And the stars come out at night
They shine on you
Their smiles intact.
"Son, you all right there?"

It's so empty here,
Mom and Dad.
I need you now.

Leave your starry skies;
Just once more
Come on Down,
Down to Earth!

© Rajkumar Panthoiren

Naoshum eshei bu taduna

Wakhal gi lambida chattuna

Ningshingnaba laknari

Nungaiba ado, minok ama

Hwkhibagi wari bu

hekta

Kaorasi kaongnamde, thamkhrasi mayade

Hanglamgani wahang ase

Senglaba thamoi kaya amada

Paokhum di fanglaroidaba !!

© Rajkumar Panthoiren

Jazz and lagao

Not a Jazz club in town

Where I could go and sip away

some thoughts.
What 'bout the blues?
Oh, I love them too.
Clapton ain't gonna come here
Even though I want him to.
Tired of seeing him

only on TV
Where he sings my favourite songs

live with the band.

You gotta listen 

to 'Autumn Leaves'

late at night.

Listen here, this is my land.
People love entertainment here-
Men and women, deluded teens, 

girls and boys.
They love to plough lagao

like dogs love poop
and like cats have no shame.

Always ready 

with an excuse
To roll the dice, 

throw away the bucks.
Make much too loud a noise
And that's what pisses me off.

Remind me of some drunken 

savage animals

dancing around a fallen prey.
Heck, do animals 

even dance?

Now, back to the point.

Without much ado,
I just don't fucking care
And I'm not supposed

to use this F-word

to write a decent poem.
Or so the literature teachers,

who never had written a poem

in their life,

say.

Hell, I wanna be a polite poet.
But even better, I wanna express better.
R. Waters, Eminem,

Y. Ibomcha, W. Whitman, 

A. Ginsberg…
Hm?

So, lagao-da-ngaojabas 

and yoo-ngaobas, play on

till your shitty lives end
While I'm gonna listen

to my music
to drown away your noise.
Thank you jazz 

and blues

for 

saving the night. 

© Rajkumar Panthoiren 

The Shadows of the Khaki and the Black Law

You are always there

In groups on sun-scorched roadsides,

On rain-beaten days too

And late at night when the city sleeps.

You point your guns at us menfolk.

But your eyes turn towards the womenfolk

And I know you prefer the younger lot.

I can’t help but ask you:

“Are we men too ugly for your eyes?”

Worry not, I never asked you to be gay.

Do look at us with your eyes for once

And not always with your guns, please;

Because guns don’t wink or smile at us!

Or you can teach them that too if you think 

you can.

One Meitei kavi¹ once wrote:

“In this present Manipur,

To be dressed in phanek only saves life.

What do you say, my friend peace keepers?

Let all the men wear phanek?!”²

I’m a student.

A teenager.

A hard working farmer.

An innocent citizen.

A father.

A son, a brother.

I’m a human just like you.

Or, if I may ask, are you not one?

I try to breathe and smile a bit

And I know it’s my right to live.

While you snuff out my life,

Tears are falling from the sky 

as if they would drown the valley.

My mother is still waiting for me

And my father is searching 

for bits of my clothing everywhere 

like a mad man.

You take me to dark alleys 

and you shoot me in the head

And throw over my dead body a gun 

I didn’t even buy.

Why do you love to make me 

your target practice?

Is the Government too poor 

to buy you some cardboard sheets to 

shoot at?

You could’ve asked before you shot me 

as I have so many in my

backyard.

Or, maybe, was it necessary for you to punish me 

for not committing any crime?

Yes, in Kangleipak, people must commit a crime to live 

or else, they would 

end up dead.

O gods and goddesses,

where have you gone?

Are you, too, afraid to live in this land

like me,

now that you have run away?

But I heard that you are bullet-proof and super powerful.

Or is everything a lie, a deception,

a betrayal, a joke?

Yet the shadow keeps on following me…

Maybe it is the only truth!

© Rajkumar Panthoiren

References:-

    1. The Meitei kavi is Thangjam Ibopishak.

        2. (the translated piece in quote) Jiten Nongthombam. The Mind of the Middle Class and Modern Manipur Literature in Post-colonial period. In the Rise of Middle Classes in Manipur, ed. Gangmumei Kamei, 2002. p. 162, New Delhi: Akansha Publishing House