Saturday, June 16, 2012

A garland of kundo

Once again
 I wear my mayek naibi
 My muga phi the colour of adorgulap
 Inland with gold it seems,
Trace chandon on my forehead
 Lik, khuji find their familiar places,
 My neck, my arms,
 The finality of sana on skin
Another wedding,
 When they ask me, 
I say absolutely not, 
Atleast not for another six-seven years
 But that is just half a truth
You, a stranger to my land, 
A valley surrounded by nine hill ranges
 Shrouded by mists and myths
 You would think time had stood still
 A little longer than in other places
You,who never heard Khamba-Thoibi stories
 While growing up
On you, my beloved stranger
 I would place around your neck
A garland of kundo.

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