DI-ODE

It is said vice is a sin, creation’s fallacy.

Vice is but just another of creation’s play.

Oh infidelity, infidelity,

Fidelity has no reason or meaning without you.

Oh deviation, deviation,

Conformity has no reason or meaning without you.

Oh iniquity, iniquity,

Virtue has no reason or meaning without you.

Beauty is creation’s ache as much as it is its delight.

Miscellany is mankind’s curse as much as it is a blessing.

Immanuel Zarzosang Varte

03/05/2016

On Wings of Thoughts and Knowledge

I went to school to learn the world's mysteries

I went to colleges to expand and clarify what I learnt in school

I went to the University to expand and clarify what I learnt in colleges

I went to Sunday School to learn the way of the Lord

I went to Church to expand what I learnt in Sunday School

I went to the children dormitory to learn the ways of my tribe

I went to the elders to expand and clarify what I learnt in the dormitory

I went to intellects to know more and see clearer.

On wings of thoughts and knowledge

I was there when the oceans drank Atlantis

I was there when the world recovered from the Great Flood

I was there before real people and events turned into legends and myths

I was there when Calculus worked on his maths

I was there when Aristotle and Plato wrote their Theses

I was there when the alchemist tried to turn lead into gold

I was there when the Son of God walked

I was there when a religion of peace killed millions.

I have seen men turned into gods

I have seen women turned into goddesses

I have seen the rise of rational thoughts

I have seen gods disowned by those who make them

I have seen goddesses disowned by those who make them

I have seen the rise of new gods and goddesses of technology and money

I have seen the adulation of people for these deities and the loss of reason.

I have been to Paradise

I have been to Hell

I have been to the in-between of worlds

I have been to the planets and the galaxies

I have been to the deepest oceans

I have seen the universe born with a big bang

I have seen the universe die

I have seen a new universe born from the cosmic dust of the old.

On wings of thoughts and knowledge

All things happen as they should be

Knowledge as the child of thought

Confusion as the child of knowledge

Clarity as the child of confusion

Promiscuity of ideas as the child of clarity

Strife as the child of promiscuity of ideas

The death of the world as the child of strife

The birth of a new world from the death of the old.

Immanuel Zarzosang Varte

25/04/2016, 10:00PM

O Manipur

O Manipur, my confusion
What have you become? 
People say the divide is new;
They say it’s all the politics and the government.
Really? 
It may be the government now 
But certainly not before!
Rather, was it not the beliefs in new gods and goddesses;
Was it not the foods, dresses, tales, songs 
And thoughts from beyond
That we foolishly believed makes us different as peoples?
Our hearths detached;
Our foods broken up;
Our dresses split;
Our tales confused;
Our songs re-tuned;
And people rudely tagged as Ching mi and Tam mi
But still joined at the umbilical
And it hurts every time there is a tug in the opposite direction!

Immanuel Zarzosang Varte
18th August 2015

BEING MISUNDERSTOOD

When I eat a lot, they say it’s because I smoked Ganja.

When I eat less, they say I am high on drugs.

When I come home late in the evening, they say it’s because I was looking for a prostitute,

When I get up early in the morning, they say it’s because I need a morning shot.

When I stay at home, they say I’m looking for something to sell from the house.

When I break down crying, they leered at me saying what a weak person I am for crying!

When I’m ill and had to lie down, they say I am just being lazy and pretending to be ill.

When I say I don’t have money to spare, they say I’m being parsimonious.

When I finally picked up the courage to speak to a girl, they say my behaviour is lecherous.

When I pay a courtesy visit to my neighbour’s, they say I am looking for something to steal.

When even my neighbour’s ill-fed bitch seems to look at me with suspicion and distrust;

When even my cries of despair are just another harbinger for more abuse,

Then I know that any hope for even the slightest hope for a better life is gone.

Even being religious doesn’t help with people whispering

“I bet He is using God’s name only as a mask”...and the Pastor didn’t chide them for betting!

Immanuel Zarzosang Varte

18/07/2015

LIFE

It was not force but an irresistible coax;

A gentle divine nudge that urged me to explore
A world bright and rainbowed
From the warm buoyant twilight world of my mother’s womb.

I know not whence.
Mayhap a deep primal instinct or of memories ere;
Or perhaps faint nostalgia of angelic faces and golden cities.
I cried in condolence of paradise lost.

Conceived with love yet born in sin;
Cared for with wisdom but life perceived in naivety.
The harsh verisimilitude of life was just taken in jest.
Death is just a hypothesis.

Spring leads to autumn and life is tepid yet vibrant.
Mortality is discovered in its bitter-sweetness.
Memories of golden cities during the egress regained.
And the coming of winter is calmly awaited.

Immanuel Zarzosang Varte
25th September 2014, Imphal

Sura Loses his Way[i]

Sura and his family had fallen on bad times. They had finished all the produce of their fields and it was not yet time to gather the year’s harvest. They pondered for a long time what they should do. Now, there was a very large earthenware vessel in the house of which they were very proud of. But now because their poverty, they decided to sell their valuable vessel in order to buy rice.

The next morning, Sura prepared to set off to the nearest village, which was a one day’s journey from his village and to try to sell the vessel there. Before he left, his wife warned him to be very careful with the vessel and told him that he was not to put it on the ground at all, for fear of breaking it. To avoid setting it down, he was to just change shoulders when he got tired.

Sura went off very early, carrying the huge vessel on his right shoulder. His load was heavy, but as he had been so carefully warned not to risk breaking the pot, he did not dare to halt on the way for a rest, and put the pot on the ground. So, when he had gone about half-way, his right shoulder began to ache very badly and he decided to make a change. It was at that moment that he remembered what his wife had told him. He wondered and scratched his head on how he could get it to the other side without putting the pot on the ground. He was indeed very puzzled about the matter. After thinking intensely for some time, he hit upon an idea. So, he turned himself around and said to himself, “There! The pot is on the other side now” and went on walking. Sura thoroughly prided himself on his cleverness but what he did not realize was that by turning around, he was going back to his own village. Without realizing what he had done, he went on until the shadows grew very long.

Finally, he reached his own village but he thought it was the place towards which he had set out in the morning. When his little children saw and called out to him, “Father! Father! How glad we are that you have come home”, Sura merely mused to himself, “What nice and friendly little children in this village. They are calling me father. I am glad I have reached such a warm friendly place at the end of my long day’s journey.” He did not recognize that they were his own children. Incidentally he put up in the house next to his own house. In amazement, surprise and incredulousity, the children informed their mother ‘Father is next door trying to sell the vessel’. Their mother was shocked and surprised and replied, ‘What? Go and ask him to come home’. The children did, but Sura remained adamant and when his wife came to the house to call him, he calmly replied, “Oh, you think that I am your husband, no I’ve got my own wife in my village and I cannot marry another’.

  

Such was Sura, a man so loyal to his wife.

---

[i] Laltluangliana Khiangte’s edited “Mizo Songs and Folk Tales”, published by Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi, 2002 was heavily referred while translating this tale from Hmar to English.

On Faith

On lungs of faith I dived
Deep down the ocean of life.
On wings of faith I flew
High upon the Elysian plains.

On caresses of faith I dreamt.
Like a vision I saw a multitude
Surrounded on all sides
By legions of iniquities.

On strides of faith I sojourned
To the four corners of the Earth.
I saw the four horsemen
Ready to march in all their furies.

Hark! An orator in glorified tongue
Speaking of better days to come.
The communion murmured in acceptance.
Pockets were emptied.

Hymns were sung in melodious chorus.
The Holy man spoke of peace and love.
The communion murmured in consent.
Pockets were emptied.

Rhetoric filled the streets
With promises of a better tomorrow.
Hopeful eyes abound.
A gun boomed.

A man of the cloth;
A man of the gun;
A man of the coin and the oratory
In all their deceitful passion.

The Father from heaven looked.
The son looked at the Father.
The Father shook His head and said
“The faithful are still out in the fields!”

Immanuel Zarzosang Varte
1st July 2014