Flower in the box

Sourness of an unknown tropical fruit took you through the colours of the the women's market.

You walked in trance passing Phaneks and faces wrinkled like intricate folklores.

In front of the Kangla Fort, you saw bare bodies of mothers screaming at the cold iron gate of a rapist state..

In Manipuri farms, rubik's cube of political strategy lay shattered with blood clotted all around it..

Snakes slithered through your dreams as you clutched the pillow for help..

You watched thousands of Jasmin flowers blooming in distant lands, while the flower of Manipur waited inside the old steel box of inexcusable insensitivity..

Irom Sharmila Chanu..

Unstaged .. unnoticed .. she is waiting..

Cain

There was a place where I used to hide..

The place where I was assimilated with the melancholy of loneliness.

Under the creaky bed, where the spider with zebra stripes lived.

I lay there watching the theater of feet and slippers, fought with invisible enemies and watched the spider as he waited for his prey.

I wanted to take my little brother to my world.. To the source of the stories which I told him before we went to sleep..

One day he saw the place and tried to sneak in with me and that ancient dark anger filled my heart..

I pressed my feet on his soft chest and pushed him out of my world and guarded my world enjoying the power of denial..

I saw him going out of the room beaten and battered with my feet imprinted on his chest forever..

Into my pain of guilt, he came.. with the smell of moist soil and blood.

Cain .. the lightning in sandstorm, the man with the blood of his brother in his hands..

From the deepness of his throat, words resounded across the realms of my hideout.

"I wandered around the world with this ancient horror. Not the wrath of an unjust god, nor the tears of mother, but that kiss which dried up long back in my lips which I kept for the pale skin of my brothers cheeks.."

A white light surrounded me and I saw Abel smiling at me with tearful eyes. I extended my hand to touch him..

My fairies

They came first time in a cool December morning, when I was snuggling myself back to the bed of laziness, enjoying the sacred ennui..

Grandma's little angel, who used to fly through the invisible crosses around my bed kissed my eyes and dissolved in the cold air that day..

Leaving me to the fairies..

They warmed me with their smooth skin .. They winked and told me their secrets.

They stroked me with their soft small fingers over the goosebumps gifted by the first rain of monsoon.

One day I realized that they are making my dreams come true.

But my boundless dreams started to shrink down to the borders of reality..

Today, I am sitting here wondering in this dry early morning, which is trying to weave its thread through the night sky.

A am I living my dreams? or do these dreams live through me?

Fairies are flying all around me in sacred silence.

My passion .. my laziness .. my purgation.. my sin ..my pride ..my fear ..my love .. my hunger..

My fairies...