There is a return

Almost nowhere trapped

in these hills I am caught

among voices and a lone dream

that these terrains weave among 

clouds and gurgling streams 

I am ensnared by some form

beauty or demonic beast 

but I lift my hands, a prayer 

to these tempestuous hills 

even as the stalactites and the stalagmites

in cavernous rocks of Cherra wither 

Into fantasy. There is a return.

You know 

Everyday the sun triumphs 

in these hills, even when 

it rains vigorously lashing window panes

but the sun less fortuitous triumphs 

sans glory

as it nestles by the hill side storm

and is, bystander to the history of these 

hills. I summon courage to withstand 

the rain or an earthquake 

knowing that the sun with bravado

gets a glimpse of my fortitude.

Resilience

In these rivers there is dirt

but the muddied images of 

the goddess float after the immersion

for another Durga Puja to emerge

these October rains flood the Umiam lake 

and mirages feint on hill tops

blue skies mirror images of a hill town 

caught in time warp of city and town.

The school 

Still stands though buildings 

have changed 

but the relentless corridor and teachers

In cassocks haunt dreams

even as the Alsatian dog barks 

in mnemonic hiatuses.

I get up prepared to go to school 

for another day, as years lapse

into history.

The crows

Every night they rattled roof tops

and in Gauhati their mournful cawing

nibbled at my dreams

Earthly wonder, theirs was a raiment

of dark dark even as the moon winced 

to lessen a bit of the black 

and merge them with dark nights.

Their sullen mourning sent a shriek 

in the air and in Shillong’s rains 

they pranced madly in their wetness.