Politically Born You Are

Politically born you are

 Your head is counted

 Twice over, maybe thrice

There is fear that we are

 Declining in numbers

There is fear of being swarmed

 Over by foreigners

You, my child

 Even as you learn to speak your first word

There are tensions soaring

On your chakumba numit,

Unknown assailants

 Murders two non-manipuris

In broad daylight at the bazaar.

 You, when you took your first walk

 From me to your father,

 There was the demand to secede the hills of Manipur.

Your bedtime stories are of good girls

 Who win over giants by their sheer kindness

Maybe I should tell you of the Manipuri lores

Of hingchabis, of baneshees,

 The ones my Imabok told me.

 Because good is scarcely found,

I want to arm you with courage,

And maybe some words,

 Incase you do find 

Those giants who might listen to you.