Creative Writings

When your engineer friend goes abroad and spends money lavishly you wish you had not majored in the Humanities. When he takes photos of Stratford-upon-Avon, You look at your small personal library and plant kisses on the dust-covered tragedies. It is time for you to go through the yellowed pages again The words speak to you and you to the words. You dress up your sister as a witch for a fancy-dress competition You philosophize like King Macbeth When your dreams fall apart, somebody asks, "How much do you earn...

The land of the majestic green hills and rivers Where the mighty and brave headhunters walked once upon a time A land so fertile and fruitful A masterpiece of God's own hand As the beautiful rhododendron blooms And the wild colourful orchids displays her pride Oh the land so rich with ethnic traditions and cultures Beautiful are the women of thy land On the hill top, the village church stands majestically As the church bell rings in melody Overwhelming warmth and pleasant nature of her folks It's a beautiful land...

I fired a screech through The barrel of a gun It invaded the laughter Of a family and Changed it into tears. I fired a screech through The barrel of my gun It invaded the sighs Of my people And wiped away their fears. Sinner, savior, soldier Who am I? Uddipana Goswami (Courtesy: Green Tin Trunk, Uddipana Goswami, Authorpress, 2014)...

Somehow we survive and tenderness, frustrated, does not wither. Investigating searchlights rake our naked unprotected contours; over our heads the monolithic decalogue of fascist prohibitions glowers and teeters for a catastrophic fall; boots club on the peeling door. But somehow we survive severance, deprivation, loss. Patrols uncoil along the asphalt dark hissing their menace to our lives, most cruel, all our land is scarred with terror, rendered unlovely and unlovable; rendered are we and all our passionate surrender but somehow tenderness survives. Dennis Brutus (A poem by South African poet...

Corrina Humtsoe Mountains loom high, Mead and vales, Lush forest beneath. A single brook gurgles happily, Thru' the fragrance-filled orchards. Songs of birds fill the air, Little animals in the woods. A pleasant land, One may s'pose. Yet gloom clings to the air. Mist filled with sorrow, A nation in chains, Enslaved till death … Time fades into nothingness, Like dust in the wind. A bondage waiting to be broken Or will it remain unbroken? (Courtesy: The Storyteller, Corrina Khyojano Humtsoe, 2014, Published by The Community Transformation Centre, Dimapur, Nagaland)...

Emisenla Jamir 'We want at least, one of your daughters for our son,' they said. Really? Either one? As if they were doing us a favour. As if We were two goats On the market for sale. (Courtesy: Woven Words, A Collection of Women's Poetry, Department of English, Kohima College, Kohima, 2017, Heritage Publishing House3, Dimapur, Nagaland)...

If "revelation" was just a creation of man pretending to be God; and if human history was just a fairy tale of monkeys evolving into man; Then why should I waste my time defending my unique history and my lands? After all, when another country is ready to pay for my development and my sustenance, Why should I shed my blood and my tears fighting such a benevolent country? If Law and justice were the regional propriety of a multicultural world, and there was no universal law proceeding from the...

A name That always comes to mind In pain or in joy In fears or in courage A name we all call Mother, Mother Loving all in all To wake u for our times To feed us for our strength To run for our errands Mother, Mother Even when in grief And shames we brought You never give up on us The dawn resounds Of your hopeful prayers. Mother's love: That taught us God's grace Lord, our prayer today That Mother lives long In health and in prayers In love...

Life has not been easy As you drift apart for a reason You keep yourself busy Why I have to face all those season. You missed all those days of green Past can never be seen. As you someday I’ll grow old And my hair will turn gold. When the world takes me to the ground I imagine to try, To win over the crown I mettle and stand but cry. Life brings us full of sorrow, Happiness we could borrow. Chongtie Longshe Shiu.  ...

Do you know with what lightness we ignited our world? At first, we learnt to wonder from streams of smoke, then, the predicament of conscience from ants, and then, the melodrama of love from flowers, even the coordinates of rituals from rocks, Which fashioned the preamble of society from fishes. Armed with this array of impulses, we, learnt, uneasily, To live with each other, with songs and dance to gel A newfound togetherness, Fearful that like licks of fire that vapourise into the night, We will be forgotten. While we...