A Frame from Shillong

Chewed some fresh tamool and sauntered the street in Laimukhrah . I heard someone say, "He look press man with camera and all.", then asked, "My photo come in paper tomorrow?" The tamool which had made my lips and mouth red now made me dizzy. I wanted some water and give myself some space. With the voices remote and yet the people still active I was able to see the other side driven my a sub-conscious mind.

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An Outlier In The Wrong World

Delhi was once Chinglen’s ‘cradle of love’. With his student years over and the love that once comforted his stay has come to a tragic end, he is seized by a strong urge to flee the city. Run as far as he can from the memories of love. As a costly escape is beyond means, he returns to Manipur, a place long marred by protracted violence, a failed revolution, an engineered incessant political chaos, and already neck-deep in corruption. Perhaps to lick his wounds and hide with the beguiled sense. That the distance and the rich bizarre should shield him from the very memories sloshing thick inside him. His attempt to keep himself engaged as well as to make a meagre living lands him a shoddy journalist job and the opportunity to pursue a PhD at the state's only university. In the absence of his laidback editor and opportunistic professor, he teaches himself some degree of creative writing and dabbles in academia. As he moves further into the labyrinth, he learns the hard way that trying...

Dream of Beliefs

Seeking quiet corners In the silence of the city By day, by night, Even in the stillness of late hours I carried you. To pursue, to court, And finally, to know If it was mine Or ever would be. I remember Tossing, turning, Muttering to myself, Searching for signs While gathering words. Then, one rainy day, I believed I had it. The dream was mine. Twenty years have passed With the dream, In another city, Where silence and inner peace Slip through my grasp. Penury and ill-fortune Trail me like shadows, Reminding me How fragile, how futile The pursuit can be. Often, I wonder: Have I failed? Is my back now pressed Against the walls Of this city, Of life itself? It is dreadful. It is disheartening. Yet I have nothing But this dream: A flickering flame, A roaring inferno, A monster trapped within. I am no one No titles, no claims, Only belief to shield me, And a longing For a place in the world. After all these years, Oh, dream of mine To possess you Is to know who I am, What I can be. And st...

Revised Edition of Tales of Human Mischief

Tales of Human Mischief by Nameirakpam Bobo Meitei is a poignant collection of short stories set against the backdrop of Manipur, also known as Kangleipak. The anthology delves into the lives of ordinary individuals whose experiences are shaped by the region's prolonged civil unrest and armed conflicts. Through rich prose, Meitei brings to light the often-overlooked narratives of those affected by systemic violence and societal upheaval. The stories encapsulate a range of human emotions and experiences: a mother's lament for her lost child, the silent suffering of a young soul molded by surrounding violence, the humiliation endured by dishonored victims, and the pervasive fear of those yearning for salvation. These narratives reflect the extremities of terror and human brutality, painting a vivid picture of a society grappling with moral decay and existential despair. Meitei's writing is characterized by its melancholic tone and introspective depth. ...

Kangleimaichou

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