LONGING FOR THE HILLS*

By Pu L.Keivom, Inpui Columnist

Trapped in a colonial building,

Daily toiling with pen in hand;

Dead boring and suffocating,

Am getting old fast day by day.

How I long to be in the hills,

Feasting my eyes all around me;

Cares will drop off, like autumn leaves,

At the kiss of the gentle breeze.

I wish to soar like an eagle,

Over the green blooming mountains;

The magic wand of gentle breeze,

Will heal all life’s worries and cares.

I now behold mountains and vales,

Hear the chirping of joyous birds;

If ever I could have my choice,

Hills will be home forever more.

(English translation by the author)

Note: It was June 25, 1973 at the South Block in Raisina Hill at the heart of Delhi where the poet had his office just above the office of the then Prime Minister Smt. Indira Gandhi. Delhi summer was sizzling and cruel for those who hailed from the hilly paradise of north-east India. During lunch hour, he was sitting in his office alone sweating and panting for breath because of the oppressive heat. He longed to be back home, sit on top of the mountain feasting eyes on the lush rolling hills and valleys, enjoy the peace of nature, hear the singing of birds and winged insects of various size and shades, feel the touch of winds and gentle breezes, listen to the mating calls of animals and beasts, of the sounds of murmuring brooks and cataracts of waterfalls. While ruminating, he was suddenly transported back to his ‘green green grasses home’ and when the reverie was over, he wrote this song on the spot in his native tongue called ‘Hmar’.