Monday, July 26, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Reminiscing Memory Lane
Reminiscing.....
What good is it?
They are gone and over
Well... it does make me smile.
Reminiscence reminds me of where I came from
Of what my life was like
Of the fun-filled time I had
Of who I was and of how far I have come in life.
I know not what life holds for me
But I have had fun
I have been naughty
I have been blessed.
It is said that life's a cycle of mysteries
I was born out of my mother's womb and grew and grew
I went to school with my ties, white shirt
Pressed trousers, oiled hair, shining shoes.
On my back I carried my books, pencils
And sometimes some toys
With which I can play some pranks
With the girls at schools.
I remember the day I had with me
A broken piece of glass
To place on top of my shoes
And then peek to see what's underneath.
I remember the day me and my friends
Jumped out of the school window
Before the Science teacher entered the room
And then went to the movie.
I remember the day after school
Me and my cousin took a fishing hook
And then putting a worm on it
Tied the hook with a long strong thread.
I remember placing the hook
In front of my grandma's chicken
The chicken took the bait
It couldn't shout for help.
We had a fest that day.
I remember the day we went to an orchard
Plucked some pears, walnut, guava and mangoes
With the warden hot on our heels
I jumped over a five foot high barbed wire unhurt.
I remembered the days high up in the hills
Picking mushrooms and ripe juicy figs
Days we played sand castle on the river banks
Had a war game with mud.
Those were the days me and my friends did some crazy stuffs
And yes some very clever stuff too
I always somehow had only one button on my shirt
Even though all were there in the morning.
Those were blessed times no money could buy.
Immanuel Zarzosang Varte
1st May 2010
What good is it?
They are gone and over
Well... it does make me smile.
Reminiscence reminds me of where I came from
Of what my life was like
Of the fun-filled time I had
Of who I was and of how far I have come in life.
I know not what life holds for me
But I have had fun
I have been naughty
I have been blessed.
It is said that life's a cycle of mysteries
I was born out of my mother's womb and grew and grew
I went to school with my ties, white shirt
Pressed trousers, oiled hair, shining shoes.
On my back I carried my books, pencils
And sometimes some toys
With which I can play some pranks
With the girls at schools.
I remember the day I had with me
A broken piece of glass
To place on top of my shoes
And then peek to see what's underneath.
I remember the day me and my friends
Jumped out of the school window
Before the Science teacher entered the room
And then went to the movie.
I remember the day after school
Me and my cousin took a fishing hook
And then putting a worm on it
Tied the hook with a long strong thread.
I remember placing the hook
In front of my grandma's chicken
The chicken took the bait
It couldn't shout for help.
We had a fest that day.
I remember the day we went to an orchard
Plucked some pears, walnut, guava and mangoes
With the warden hot on our heels
I jumped over a five foot high barbed wire unhurt.
I remembered the days high up in the hills
Picking mushrooms and ripe juicy figs
Days we played sand castle on the river banks
Had a war game with mud.
Those were the days me and my friends did some crazy stuffs
And yes some very clever stuff too
I always somehow had only one button on my shirt
Even though all were there in the morning.
Those were blessed times no money could buy.
Immanuel Zarzosang Varte
1st May 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
 |
| Merry Rothangpui Varte |
 |
| Imali Lalneirem Varte |
Expectant but fearful
I could see the pain writ on the mother's face
I could feel the pain
I could feel the breaths that came in short
Painful gasps.
An exclamation!
With beads of perspiration I waited...
She came, Its a girl!
She opened her small beautiful eyes
Lord! She's beautiful
I looked at the mother and the baby.
My heart, my love and all my tenderness came out gushing
With a sigh of relief and love I hardly knew possess
I kissed my wife and the baby
Both sleeping peacefully
And thanked God for all his blessings.
Love of my Love
Its beyond words I love you so
God bless you my two daughters-
I love you both so much
I would willingly go fetch the stars if you so asked.
May you all be blessed and
Your paths strewn with love, happiness and successes.
I'll be a husband, a father
And a friend who loves you
In brightest days or in darkest nights.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
No mobile networks today...What am I gonna do?
Oh yes! Mobile networks available now
But no electricity for 5 hours
Damn!!!!
After hours, the electricity finally came
Where the heck is my mobile?
Searching...searching...searching....
Got it!!! Yes!!! Network's available...
Took out the laptop and put it on
Connect my mobile to the PC
Connecting to the networks...
Please please please let there be networks.
It has been days without the internet for me
Looking forward to keep in touch with friends
Gotta send some mails
Gotta download some stuffs
Gotta log in to my facebook account, etc...
Yes!!! Finally....I got a connection
The first thing I do is write this post
To post to post....
Before the connection freaks out on me again
And bring back to me how dependent;
How slaved I'm to technology already.
Can't seem to do anything
Even almost have difficulty thinking straight
Gotta post gotta post this post before anything happens.
Oh yes! Mobile networks available now
But no electricity for 5 hours
Damn!!!!
After hours, the electricity finally came
Where the heck is my mobile?
Searching...searching...searching....
Got it!!! Yes!!! Network's available...
Took out the laptop and put it on
Connect my mobile to the PC
Connecting to the networks...
Please please please let there be networks.
It has been days without the internet for me
Looking forward to keep in touch with friends
Gotta send some mails
Gotta download some stuffs
Gotta log in to my facebook account, etc...
Yes!!! Finally....I got a connection
The first thing I do is write this post
To post to post....
Before the connection freaks out on me again
And bring back to me how dependent;
How slaved I'm to technology already.
Can't seem to do anything
Even almost have difficulty thinking straight
Gotta post gotta post this post before anything happens.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
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Imagine there’s no country
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace
You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world
----John Lennon
Friday, March 5, 2010
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To be free as a bird...
Do I dream about that often?
To be free as a bird
with the far blue mountains beckoning;
Fly and glide over the hills and vales
to see my beloved yonder.
Who wouldn't?
Maybe this was not meant to be
for reasons best known to the creator.
If I was free like a bird,
I would be able to do things
many other couldn't.
But what could prevent me
from follies that I might also commit?
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Thursday, March 4, 2010
SHARON
----Immanuel Varte
They came from the east side emerging from the woods steadily making their way towards the first house. They crossed the small open field where Rova, one of the village boys had just scored his first goal in their regular after-school football match this afternoon.
They came as if the devil himself is in their midst, commanding. They looked like the damned walking, seeing through eyes of hatred. The eyes of the devil himself, a fiery red blazing in the blackness of the night a lifeless stare that scorched anyone who dared to look. They adorned themselves with guns, swords, pickaxes and weapons that seemed to have a thirst for blood and more blood they were going to be offered. They moved-on lighting their way with bamboo torches, blazing wildly in the wind in anxiety of the inferno they would later invoke. Incantations they seemed to chant invoking the spirit of hatred so they can keep themselves from any kind of sensible emotions that could make them weak and vulnerable. Abhorrence and loathing alone had taken hold in the meekest of their hearts blinding them from any sense of humanity. Pity, sympathy, charity; they have no more a place to accommodate.
Khuma was on his way back from a local church committee sitting at the church quarters. The night was littered with excited twinkles of stars; magic in the clearness of the night. Khuma thought he has never seen the sky so clear and beautiful. He felt light taking his time soaking in the beauty of the moment. He could feel the breeze gently caressing his hard work roughened form.
Khuma Mutters to himself.
I have been so blessed. God has been so kind to me.
He and his wife and their little baby girl had just moved in the new house that he had so lovingly built by his own hands. In the wake of his contentment it looked as though time had stood still. He thought he could feel the silence of the night infiltrated only by the monotonous articulate orchestration of chirps of denizens of the night and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Up the hill on the last turn, he could see a glint of light from the house that was now his home sweet home. Eager to take his baby girl in his sunburned arms he steadily made his way home half expecting the mother and baby were still awake.
In haste as he made his way to the door he thought he just saw a figure. Readjusting himself he rubbed his eyes to clear any strain in them and looked around half-suspicious. By the bamboo grove he could clearly discern a figure, but on second thought he said to himself.
Ah! One of the hunters.
He washed himself and was just about to go to bed when he heard voices coming from outside. He thought he just heard somebody scream. Alarmed, he hurried outside. There was a commotion and everything seemed to be bathed in light.
What’s going on?
He asked himself. People were screaming, running wild as if the devil’s been let loose. He looked around trying to make out what caused the commotion when he saw the fire that had almost already consumed three of his neighbours’ houses.
Oh God! Fire! Somebody get the people out… water!
He shouted. He was just about to run towards one of the burning houses when there was a bang and he felt something just whizzed pass. The hanging flower pot to his right splintered to pieces throwing the rhododendron to the ground.
What was that? A gun?
Khuma turned his head towards the direction of the bang and that was when he felt fear for the first time. Not the fear of death, not scared, but the fear that something bad has happened and his wife and child were in danger (Khuma could vaguely hear his wife and child screaming. He ran).
There were hoards of them shouting and firing their guns at the people in frenzied madness and some were throwing bamboo torches on the roofs of houses making their moves as if trying to raze the village to the ground.
He stood still he had been stripped off all senses.
Crying, shouting, screaming, everything in chaos. Huts blossoming into burning messes.
A pitiful, heart-rending lonely cry of a baby among the confusion.
Men armed with automatic guns, machetes/daos, knives, torches and cans of kerosene.
They were shouting, faces showing hatred you never knew could exist.
With guns blazing, machetes and knives blinking, winking wickedly in the light of the torches they, torched the first houses/huts they came across.
People were running for their lives.
A baby was crying all alone in the melee who was eventually picked up by a small girl and disappearing among the fleeing crowds.
A crash. Somebody running and then stopped.
There was a man standing in the middle of the small path and he was not alone. There was another, a few yards to his front facing him.
In deathly silence they stood, one facing the other; no sound, no rustle, no howls or chirps. A blood-curling silence…
An orange flash and bang! Silence again; dead silence.
The man nearer to him slowly slumped to the ground. No movement, not a twitch; He was dead with eyes blankly staring upward.
Cheep! Cheep! Cheep! 5:00 AM. The tweet of half-awake birds:
“Another sleepless night gone and how many more” muttered Rova to his friend Sanga.
Sanga (chuckling): “I don’t know how these birds do it. Do they ever sleep and if not, how are they able to get up so early in the morning?”
Rova wiped a fleck of dew away from his wearied and rugged face. His eyes are tired; his muscles ached from sitting up through many nights being picked for night duty every night for the past three days- three days after their village alongwith other villages of his tribes were attacked by the enemies during the night.
It was a surprise attack and even before they fully realized they were being attacked, almost half of the houses in his village were already bursting up in flames. Somehow he took his gun which he had loaded with buckshot the night before in anticipation of any trouble for which he thank himself for being ready. He rushed out with no particular plan in mind. He got away from the village after a short kill or be killed situation. The man was too slow for him and he shot him.
Now, he have only the same rusty but trusty locally made gun called “Hmarkhang zep” to keep him company and give him some comfort with its cold long barrel.
Yawning, he cursed again and spat out a tobacco stained-red saliva.
He has a good reason to greet the morning and the chirping of the birds with a frayed and ireful temper. He stamped on the ground in frustration due to his helplessness and inability to do anything during the night.
The gunshots of the following night, he heard them loud and clear. Judging from the intensity and loudness of the sound, he knew that there was fierce fighting somewhere not too far, in the direction of Sarawn village. He wondered if the villagers were able to get away in time; how may died; was the villagers able to repulse the enemy or was it, like the unfortunate others, completely taken by surprise again and burnt down? He will have his answers soon enough he though.
Rova suddenly broke the silence and spoke to Sanga.
“I wish, really wish we could have been there to help the poor villagers, kill some enemies in the process and…blast it! We are stuck here on guard duty, guarding women and children.”
A twig crackled or seems to crackle somewhere and then silence! Wait! Was it a crackle, a swish or just the rustle of leaves in the light morning breeze? Rova and Sanga crouched, cocked their gun as silently as they can and waited, all senses alert for the slightest sign of danger. In a time and place like now, its better not to take any chances.
Rova whispered to Sanga “Was it our imagination; should we wake up our fellows?”
Sanga whispered back “Better not wake them up; it might just be our frayed nerves playing tricks with us.”
The sound! There, it is again and this time it is nearer! The birds nearby suddenly stopped singing. Something is coming their way.
5:15 AM:
From nowhere, a thin mist started to seep and spread idly making it hard for both Sanga and Rova’s already tired eyes to see clearly in the direction from where the sound came. So, they strained his ears to hear any sound that sounds out of place. This time they could vaguely make out some sounds as if made by people walking but ready to drop down with exhaustion.
Somebody stirred behind them and Rova quickly turned to find their fellows wide awake but listening without moving. Rova noticed that they also had their weapons ready.
Turning back towards the direction of the approaching sound, Rova and Sanga could make out a distinct human sound- the muffled cry of a baby.
Both have a confused expression on their face.
Rova whisper to Sanga “From the sound, whether foes or friends, they don’t seems like an enemy raiding party unless the enemies have started taking babies that cried during raids! It sounds like a baby crying!”
Sanga chuckles softly and then turned serious again.
Sanga whispered back “Yeah. It looks like it but cannot take any chances. It could be just a decoy or a new tactic adopted by the enemies to fool the enemies so that we will be aware of the dupe only after it is too late?”
5:20 AM:
A bedraggled group of people, mostly women and children and some youths materialized out of the morning mist. The youths have no other weapons except the daos carried by some of the youths and they spoke in Hmar. The baby was still crying and the women and children, some with blood on their faces and bodies were practically dragging themselves forward. They still haven’t seen Rova, his friend or the camp and came forward warily, occasionally looking behind to make sure they are not followed. Now, Rova stepped out of his position and looked directly towards the approaching rabble and shouted just loud enough for them to hear.
When the approaching group saw and heard him, they stood frozen, startled and undecided on what to do next. Then, one of the youth in the front answered clearly in Hmar but still wary.
Now, Rova was sure that they were his tribesmen and relaxed his guard. He assured them that he is their fellow tribesman and then asked where they came from.
The same speaker from the new group answered “We are also your tribesmen and came from Sarawn village that was attacked by the enemy last night. The village was completely taken by surprise and subsequently burnt down.
When Rova heard this, he asked them to join him and his fellows in their camp.
On hearing this, the new arrivals all heaved a sigh of relief and then tottered in into the camp which, by this time was filled with people fully awake and awkwardly at a lost for what to say. Time awkwardly hung suspended. This is a time when sorrows and tales of woes are most expressively shared in revered silence.
[To a naïve mind, man often seem to lose the power of lucidite speech when faced with situations that need articulation to communicate but there are such a time where, man in silence, is most eloquent, no matter how awkward the moment may appear to be].
5: 25 A.M.
Waahh..! Waahh..!
The silence was suddenly broken by the baby’s woeful cries. All eyes in Rova’s camp turned towards a dirt- covered baby in the arms of a lady of about 20 years old, whose face and hair were covered with mud and dirt. All eyes riveted towards her could see a deep gash on her right cheek smeared with blood that reluctantly agreed to coagulate. She looks as if she just stepped out of a horror movie set with make-ups doing its much vaunted unfailing duty. Her eyes however were eyes that unspokenly spoke of the horrors she has seen and braved- horrors and tales of woes that the articulated mind could not simply activate the tongue to move. She was near to tears and held the baby close to her bosom seemingly in an effort to reassure the child that it was safe; that its thirst will be quenched soon.
The baby stopped crying.
She was silent and didn’t speak a word but she moved, moved with the crying baby while looking around, as if in search of something. All eyes followed her.
She found what she was searching for and knelt beside a woman. The woman was hunched in a corner, disheveled and with postures speaking of the torment she was filled with. A body could also see that she was endowed with a bosom that speaks of breasts with milk. The girl slowly approached her and gave her the baby she was holding and asked
The woman’s name was Kungi.
Kungi suddenly looked up and stared blankly- first at the girl and then towards the baby which was now silently sucking the girl’s thumb- a silence out of thirst. Then, suddenly, her eyes came alive and were filled with love owing to the realization that was slowly coming in into her troubled mind.
She took the child and lovingly fondled to soothe the baby.
Kungi took out her breast which was throbbing with milk and in anticipation of the soft touch of the baby’s lips and mouth that was to make love to it. The baby reveredly and softly took the equally reverent and soft pink nipples into her mouth and sucked deeply. She sigh and gurgled with satisfaction at the taste of the warm, sweet living liquid that flows in into her parched mouth, let it linger and then gently let it course down.
5:30 AM:
As if by some invisible force, the baby’s contented gurgling roused the people in the camp- old and new, into consciousness from their reverie and gradually regained their power of articulate vocalizations. Animated conversations, cries and laughter borne out of the fusing of sorrows and joys started to fill the air.
5:40 AM:
Rova, ever on the lookout, however did not join the crowd for long but went back to his duty post to join Sanga after a lingering side way glance at the lady and the child which was now in the arms of Kungi, contentedly suckling at her breast.
On reaching Sanga, he sat down beside him. Now with a smoking “dumziel” between his lips and nudged him. He whispered to Sanga “The lady will be quite pretty and maybe beautiful if she washes and tidy up. What’s her name? He didn’t get it, or, has she mentioned her name? Maybe, he should pay more attention to her and whether she is married or not and maybe, just maybe, he should also make himself a bit more presentable, not necessarily because of the lady but out of necessity. A man needs to clean up, not only females.”
Sanga burst out “Ho ho ho! You are thinking about girls in this time. What are you? Have you gone crazy? We don’t even know if we’ll live through this and…you fantasizing about girls and worst of all- thinking about being clean even when we almost doesn’t have enough water to wash our faces. Moreover, even if this camp was overflowing with water, you will stay away as far away from it as possible. You and the cats- I don’t know who hates water more?”
Rova and Sanga now laugh, for the first time since the day before.
Almost reluctantly, Rova now diverts his attention to the baby and asked Sanga “who do you think will be the parents of that baby? Will they know them if their names are told? Why should God allow such tender and pure soul to be deprived so early in life? Why?”
Sanga said “I don’t know. Seeing that baby and all the women and children- the innocents suffering like this, the more I see and think I hate this war and most of all, I hate the people who did this. I wish I have the opportunity to do them a return favour.”
Rova continued “If the rumour is true, you may have your chance sooner than you think. I heard, volunteers are gathering to organize a reciprocal attack on the enemy’s villages. I think it is high time we paid them back in their own coins.”
Sanga answered “Really? Where and when did you hear that? I will surely go with the volunteers. They will get it. They sure will- those ***. I will do double what they did to us. I swear it...”
Sanga trailed off…choked with emotions.
Rova didn’t answer but quickly turned towards the now empty path through which his fellow refugees had come to let the tiny salty droplets of emotions that welled up in his eyes mingle with the fresh morning dews.
----Immanuel Varte
They came from the east side emerging from the woods steadily making their way towards the first house. They crossed the small open field where Rova, one of the village boys had just scored his first goal in their regular after-school football match this afternoon.
They came as if the devil himself is in their midst, commanding. They looked like the damned walking, seeing through eyes of hatred. The eyes of the devil himself, a fiery red blazing in the blackness of the night a lifeless stare that scorched anyone who dared to look. They adorned themselves with guns, swords, pickaxes and weapons that seemed to have a thirst for blood and more blood they were going to be offered. They moved-on lighting their way with bamboo torches, blazing wildly in the wind in anxiety of the inferno they would later invoke. Incantations they seemed to chant invoking the spirit of hatred so they can keep themselves from any kind of sensible emotions that could make them weak and vulnerable. Abhorrence and loathing alone had taken hold in the meekest of their hearts blinding them from any sense of humanity. Pity, sympathy, charity; they have no more a place to accommodate.
Khuma was on his way back from a local church committee sitting at the church quarters. The night was littered with excited twinkles of stars; magic in the clearness of the night. Khuma thought he has never seen the sky so clear and beautiful. He felt light taking his time soaking in the beauty of the moment. He could feel the breeze gently caressing his hard work roughened form.
Khuma Mutters to himself.
I have been so blessed. God has been so kind to me.
He and his wife and their little baby girl had just moved in the new house that he had so lovingly built by his own hands. In the wake of his contentment it looked as though time had stood still. He thought he could feel the silence of the night infiltrated only by the monotonous articulate orchestration of chirps of denizens of the night and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Up the hill on the last turn, he could see a glint of light from the house that was now his home sweet home. Eager to take his baby girl in his sunburned arms he steadily made his way home half expecting the mother and baby were still awake.
In haste as he made his way to the door he thought he just saw a figure. Readjusting himself he rubbed his eyes to clear any strain in them and looked around half-suspicious. By the bamboo grove he could clearly discern a figure, but on second thought he said to himself.
Ah! One of the hunters.
He washed himself and was just about to go to bed when he heard voices coming from outside. He thought he just heard somebody scream. Alarmed, he hurried outside. There was a commotion and everything seemed to be bathed in light.
What’s going on?
He asked himself. People were screaming, running wild as if the devil’s been let loose. He looked around trying to make out what caused the commotion when he saw the fire that had almost already consumed three of his neighbours’ houses.
Oh God! Fire! Somebody get the people out… water!
He shouted. He was just about to run towards one of the burning houses when there was a bang and he felt something just whizzed pass. The hanging flower pot to his right splintered to pieces throwing the rhododendron to the ground.
What was that? A gun?
Khuma turned his head towards the direction of the bang and that was when he felt fear for the first time. Not the fear of death, not scared, but the fear that something bad has happened and his wife and child were in danger (Khuma could vaguely hear his wife and child screaming. He ran).
There were hoards of them shouting and firing their guns at the people in frenzied madness and some were throwing bamboo torches on the roofs of houses making their moves as if trying to raze the village to the ground.
He stood still he had been stripped off all senses.
Crying, shouting, screaming, everything in chaos. Huts blossoming into burning messes.
A pitiful, heart-rending lonely cry of a baby among the confusion.
Men armed with automatic guns, machetes/daos, knives, torches and cans of kerosene.
They were shouting, faces showing hatred you never knew could exist.
With guns blazing, machetes and knives blinking, winking wickedly in the light of the torches they, torched the first houses/huts they came across.
People were running for their lives.
A baby was crying all alone in the melee who was eventually picked up by a small girl and disappearing among the fleeing crowds.
A crash. Somebody running and then stopped.
There was a man standing in the middle of the small path and he was not alone. There was another, a few yards to his front facing him.
In deathly silence they stood, one facing the other; no sound, no rustle, no howls or chirps. A blood-curling silence…
An orange flash and bang! Silence again; dead silence.
The man nearer to him slowly slumped to the ground. No movement, not a twitch; He was dead with eyes blankly staring upward.
Cheep! Cheep! Cheep! 5:00 AM. The tweet of half-awake birds:
“Another sleepless night gone and how many more” muttered Rova to his friend Sanga.
Sanga (chuckling): “I don’t know how these birds do it. Do they ever sleep and if not, how are they able to get up so early in the morning?”
Rova wiped a fleck of dew away from his wearied and rugged face. His eyes are tired; his muscles ached from sitting up through many nights being picked for night duty every night for the past three days- three days after their village alongwith other villages of his tribes were attacked by the enemies during the night.
It was a surprise attack and even before they fully realized they were being attacked, almost half of the houses in his village were already bursting up in flames. Somehow he took his gun which he had loaded with buckshot the night before in anticipation of any trouble for which he thank himself for being ready. He rushed out with no particular plan in mind. He got away from the village after a short kill or be killed situation. The man was too slow for him and he shot him.
Now, he have only the same rusty but trusty locally made gun called “Hmarkhang zep” to keep him company and give him some comfort with its cold long barrel.
Yawning, he cursed again and spat out a tobacco stained-red saliva.
He has a good reason to greet the morning and the chirping of the birds with a frayed and ireful temper. He stamped on the ground in frustration due to his helplessness and inability to do anything during the night.
The gunshots of the following night, he heard them loud and clear. Judging from the intensity and loudness of the sound, he knew that there was fierce fighting somewhere not too far, in the direction of Sarawn village. He wondered if the villagers were able to get away in time; how may died; was the villagers able to repulse the enemy or was it, like the unfortunate others, completely taken by surprise again and burnt down? He will have his answers soon enough he though.
Rova suddenly broke the silence and spoke to Sanga.
“I wish, really wish we could have been there to help the poor villagers, kill some enemies in the process and…blast it! We are stuck here on guard duty, guarding women and children.”
A twig crackled or seems to crackle somewhere and then silence! Wait! Was it a crackle, a swish or just the rustle of leaves in the light morning breeze? Rova and Sanga crouched, cocked their gun as silently as they can and waited, all senses alert for the slightest sign of danger. In a time and place like now, its better not to take any chances.
Rova whispered to Sanga “Was it our imagination; should we wake up our fellows?”
Sanga whispered back “Better not wake them up; it might just be our frayed nerves playing tricks with us.”
The sound! There, it is again and this time it is nearer! The birds nearby suddenly stopped singing. Something is coming their way.
5:15 AM:
From nowhere, a thin mist started to seep and spread idly making it hard for both Sanga and Rova’s already tired eyes to see clearly in the direction from where the sound came. So, they strained his ears to hear any sound that sounds out of place. This time they could vaguely make out some sounds as if made by people walking but ready to drop down with exhaustion.
Somebody stirred behind them and Rova quickly turned to find their fellows wide awake but listening without moving. Rova noticed that they also had their weapons ready.
Turning back towards the direction of the approaching sound, Rova and Sanga could make out a distinct human sound- the muffled cry of a baby.
Both have a confused expression on their face.
Rova whisper to Sanga “From the sound, whether foes or friends, they don’t seems like an enemy raiding party unless the enemies have started taking babies that cried during raids! It sounds like a baby crying!”
Sanga chuckles softly and then turned serious again.
Sanga whispered back “Yeah. It looks like it but cannot take any chances. It could be just a decoy or a new tactic adopted by the enemies to fool the enemies so that we will be aware of the dupe only after it is too late?”
5:20 AM:
A bedraggled group of people, mostly women and children and some youths materialized out of the morning mist. The youths have no other weapons except the daos carried by some of the youths and they spoke in Hmar. The baby was still crying and the women and children, some with blood on their faces and bodies were practically dragging themselves forward. They still haven’t seen Rova, his friend or the camp and came forward warily, occasionally looking behind to make sure they are not followed. Now, Rova stepped out of his position and looked directly towards the approaching rabble and shouted just loud enough for them to hear.
When the approaching group saw and heard him, they stood frozen, startled and undecided on what to do next. Then, one of the youth in the front answered clearly in Hmar but still wary.
Now, Rova was sure that they were his tribesmen and relaxed his guard. He assured them that he is their fellow tribesman and then asked where they came from.
The same speaker from the new group answered “We are also your tribesmen and came from Sarawn village that was attacked by the enemy last night. The village was completely taken by surprise and subsequently burnt down.
When Rova heard this, he asked them to join him and his fellows in their camp.
On hearing this, the new arrivals all heaved a sigh of relief and then tottered in into the camp which, by this time was filled with people fully awake and awkwardly at a lost for what to say. Time awkwardly hung suspended. This is a time when sorrows and tales of woes are most expressively shared in revered silence.
[To a naïve mind, man often seem to lose the power of lucidite speech when faced with situations that need articulation to communicate but there are such a time where, man in silence, is most eloquent, no matter how awkward the moment may appear to be].
5: 25 A.M.
Waahh..! Waahh..!
The silence was suddenly broken by the baby’s woeful cries. All eyes in Rova’s camp turned towards a dirt- covered baby in the arms of a lady of about 20 years old, whose face and hair were covered with mud and dirt. All eyes riveted towards her could see a deep gash on her right cheek smeared with blood that reluctantly agreed to coagulate. She looks as if she just stepped out of a horror movie set with make-ups doing its much vaunted unfailing duty. Her eyes however were eyes that unspokenly spoke of the horrors she has seen and braved- horrors and tales of woes that the articulated mind could not simply activate the tongue to move. She was near to tears and held the baby close to her bosom seemingly in an effort to reassure the child that it was safe; that its thirst will be quenched soon.
The baby stopped crying.
She was silent and didn’t speak a word but she moved, moved with the crying baby while looking around, as if in search of something. All eyes followed her.
She found what she was searching for and knelt beside a woman. The woman was hunched in a corner, disheveled and with postures speaking of the torment she was filled with. A body could also see that she was endowed with a bosom that speaks of breasts with milk. The girl slowly approached her and gave her the baby she was holding and asked
The woman’s name was Kungi.
Kungi suddenly looked up and stared blankly- first at the girl and then towards the baby which was now silently sucking the girl’s thumb- a silence out of thirst. Then, suddenly, her eyes came alive and were filled with love owing to the realization that was slowly coming in into her troubled mind.
She took the child and lovingly fondled to soothe the baby.
Kungi took out her breast which was throbbing with milk and in anticipation of the soft touch of the baby’s lips and mouth that was to make love to it. The baby reveredly and softly took the equally reverent and soft pink nipples into her mouth and sucked deeply. She sigh and gurgled with satisfaction at the taste of the warm, sweet living liquid that flows in into her parched mouth, let it linger and then gently let it course down.
5:30 AM:
As if by some invisible force, the baby’s contented gurgling roused the people in the camp- old and new, into consciousness from their reverie and gradually regained their power of articulate vocalizations. Animated conversations, cries and laughter borne out of the fusing of sorrows and joys started to fill the air.
5:40 AM:
Rova, ever on the lookout, however did not join the crowd for long but went back to his duty post to join Sanga after a lingering side way glance at the lady and the child which was now in the arms of Kungi, contentedly suckling at her breast.
On reaching Sanga, he sat down beside him. Now with a smoking “dumziel” between his lips and nudged him. He whispered to Sanga “The lady will be quite pretty and maybe beautiful if she washes and tidy up. What’s her name? He didn’t get it, or, has she mentioned her name? Maybe, he should pay more attention to her and whether she is married or not and maybe, just maybe, he should also make himself a bit more presentable, not necessarily because of the lady but out of necessity. A man needs to clean up, not only females.”
Sanga burst out “Ho ho ho! You are thinking about girls in this time. What are you? Have you gone crazy? We don’t even know if we’ll live through this and…you fantasizing about girls and worst of all- thinking about being clean even when we almost doesn’t have enough water to wash our faces. Moreover, even if this camp was overflowing with water, you will stay away as far away from it as possible. You and the cats- I don’t know who hates water more?”
Rova and Sanga now laugh, for the first time since the day before.
Almost reluctantly, Rova now diverts his attention to the baby and asked Sanga “who do you think will be the parents of that baby? Will they know them if their names are told? Why should God allow such tender and pure soul to be deprived so early in life? Why?”
Sanga said “I don’t know. Seeing that baby and all the women and children- the innocents suffering like this, the more I see and think I hate this war and most of all, I hate the people who did this. I wish I have the opportunity to do them a return favour.”
Rova continued “If the rumour is true, you may have your chance sooner than you think. I heard, volunteers are gathering to organize a reciprocal attack on the enemy’s villages. I think it is high time we paid them back in their own coins.”
Sanga answered “Really? Where and when did you hear that? I will surely go with the volunteers. They will get it. They sure will- those ***. I will do double what they did to us. I swear it...”
Sanga trailed off…choked with emotions.
Rova didn’t answer but quickly turned towards the now empty path through which his fellow refugees had come to let the tiny salty droplets of emotions that welled up in his eyes mingle with the fresh morning dews.
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