The Abandoned Village

Ningthemba Chingsubam
“This is my native village
Luangleijang, the River Valley,
Where I was born and brought up.”
Quoth the mother to her son.
Eftsoons she dropped his hand
And hinted him to have a seat
On a flat stone stuck against the hillside,
Near the village cathedral.
“Ah Wretch!” the mother continued,
“They set all the houses ablaze
And scattered all the village folks
Like driven cattle without pity.
Plunged into the smoke,
Every young and old ran for their lives.”
The son was dumbfounded
Eyes unwinking as if questioning „Why ??.
And then she continued,
“This is the attack of ethnic cleansing.
Innocent people were slain
And some were burnt alive,
Among them were next of kins.
The beautiful village had to be abandoned.
Painful thought of parting
From my native village
Where I was born and brought up.”
After a long pause said the mother,
“Pinjang, the river valley,
Where your maternal grandma and grandpa lived.
This is the village new,
Once we refuged but now home.
The army men camped in this village
For our security and peace,
But they slew nine naga-brethren,
As if they were suspicious.
Lo! the graveyard plateaued over there.
Hope for resurrection and reincarnation
To bring peace and unity.”
The son with his enquiring eyes
Looked astounding but said nothing.
“My son, this is the story
How men were brutal to men,
Murder, torture and ethnicity
For this no man?s land
And for this ethnic diversity.
But we were born as Nagas
We must die as we are.”