Poem
Yumlembam Ibomcha Singh
Worshipping Imoinu
Whether winter or summerWhether bombs burst or don’t burst
Beautiful women walk gracefully.
Faces eyes lips shaded with colours
The women walk.
Whether crossfire or no crossfire, whether deaths or no deaths
Men look at beautiful women.
Handsome men look at beautiful women, ugly men also look.
2
My wife growls
“I want to turn into a mole”,
She growls daily that she wants to become a mole.
Unable to bear her nagging I gave away a hundred rupees
Telling her she could be either a mole or an egret.
Turning into a swallow she flew away immediately.
Smiling faintly to myself
I emerged from home whistling.
Drinking piping hot cups of tea with Gopal
We discussed serious matters at Hotel Rajdhani –
Bandh blockade and matters of AFSPA Sharmila Kamla Sadananda
Saddam Hussein Sonia, it was never ending.
When the night grew late I returned home again whistling
And there was my woman
Turned into a toad calling down seasonal rains.
I went to bed whistling
While trying to sleep whistling away, my wife flew in, turning into a drongo
And kept pecking at a tuft of hair on my forehead.
On the morning of Imoinu Day
There stood my woman like a goddess aglitter
I have to genuflect to her today
Even if she’s my wife
Won’t it be blasphemy if I don’t?
© Translation: 2009, Robin S. Ngangom
From: Dancing Earth: An Anthology of Poetry from North-East India
Publisher: Penguin Books India, New Delhi, 2009
Imoinu: Meitei goddess of prosperity
From: Dancing Earth: An Anthology of Poetry from North-East India
Publisher: Penguin Books India, New Delhi, 2009
Worshipping Imoinu
Worshipping Imoinu
© 2009, Yumlemban Ibomcha Singh
Poems
Poems of Yumlembam Ibomcha Singh
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Worshipping Imoinu
Whether winter or summerWhether bombs burst or don’t burst
Beautiful women walk gracefully.
Faces eyes lips shaded with colours
The women walk.
Whether crossfire or no crossfire, whether deaths or no deaths
Men look at beautiful women.
Handsome men look at beautiful women, ugly men also look.
2
My wife growls
“I want to turn into a mole”,
She growls daily that she wants to become a mole.
Unable to bear her nagging I gave away a hundred rupees
Telling her she could be either a mole or an egret.
Turning into a swallow she flew away immediately.
Smiling faintly to myself
I emerged from home whistling.
Drinking piping hot cups of tea with Gopal
We discussed serious matters at Hotel Rajdhani –
Bandh blockade and matters of AFSPA Sharmila Kamla Sadananda
Saddam Hussein Sonia, it was never ending.
When the night grew late I returned home again whistling
And there was my woman
Turned into a toad calling down seasonal rains.
I went to bed whistling
While trying to sleep whistling away, my wife flew in, turning into a drongo
And kept pecking at a tuft of hair on my forehead.
On the morning of Imoinu Day
There stood my woman like a goddess aglitter
I have to genuflect to her today
Even if she’s my wife
Won’t it be blasphemy if I don’t?
© 2009, Robin S. Ngangom
From: Dancing Earth: An Anthology of Poetry from North-East India
Publisher: 2009, Penguin Books India, New Delhi
From: Dancing Earth: An Anthology of Poetry from North-East India
Publisher: 2009, Penguin Books India, New Delhi
Worshipping Imoinu
Whether winter or summerWhether bombs burst or don’t burst
Beautiful women walk gracefully.
Faces eyes lips shaded with colours
The women walk.
Whether crossfire or no crossfire, whether deaths or no deaths
Men look at beautiful women.
Handsome men look at beautiful women, ugly men also look.
2
My wife growls
“I want to turn into a mole”,
She growls daily that she wants to become a mole.
Unable to bear her nagging I gave away a hundred rupees
Telling her she could be either a mole or an egret.
Turning into a swallow she flew away immediately.
Smiling faintly to myself
I emerged from home whistling.
Drinking piping hot cups of tea with Gopal
We discussed serious matters at Hotel Rajdhani –
Bandh blockade and matters of AFSPA Sharmila Kamla Sadananda
Saddam Hussein Sonia, it was never ending.
When the night grew late I returned home again whistling
And there was my woman
Turned into a toad calling down seasonal rains.
I went to bed whistling
While trying to sleep whistling away, my wife flew in, turning into a drongo
And kept pecking at a tuft of hair on my forehead.
On the morning of Imoinu Day
There stood my woman like a goddess aglitter
I have to genuflect to her today
Even if she’s my wife
Won’t it be blasphemy if I don’t?
© 2009, Robin S. Ngangom
From: Dancing Earth: An Anthology of Poetry from North-East India
Publisher: 2009, Penguin Books India, New Delhi
From: Dancing Earth: An Anthology of Poetry from North-East India
Publisher: 2009, Penguin Books India, New Delhi
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