soothing sugarcane fields

calm bamboos and mango grove

never-ending rice and wheat greens

lively weekly farmers market by the pond

astounding raw smell of mud and air

craving mud, dust, pollen and village fairs

excited kids running behind my motorbike

the graveyard shrine where my ancestors lay

lanterns, candles and cricket’s chirp

water, rain and mud and rice field alleys

cozy, clean and homely cottages

straw, mud and brick walls

colorful mithila paints


amputees, orphans, widows

bullets, bamboo sticks and canes

unclaimed bodies scattered everywhere

people killing people, factions of politics

blood stained pond

sulfur in the air and soil

killings for race

dying Madheshis, exiled Pahades

isolated villages, lonely markets

frightening alleys laid with mines and explosives

impossible to pay tribute to my buried ancestors

explosion, arson, lootings, rape

insecure life, a treacherous game

frightening ambushes, deceitful friends

walls demolished, roof torn apart

hatred scripted in red on my walls



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