Pain in My Ribs

*

I caught a little accident a few days ago, there is pain in my ribs now.

Can't take a turn on bed.

The best part is- no spring bird is singing in the nights

from the tree of monkey jack fruit in my garden.

No Oinitom is being echoed at distance...

*

What a strange relation it was, between your fingers and my ribs.

Your Fingers used to grow like the fern on the Naga-hillside,

- used to wave with the breeze.

*

I wonder if the vultures would eat up my ribs

or just plucking the meat they'd leave them on the ground.

Would you ever come to Falfali Bakori by any chance?

The wish was, you would caress my ribs with your beautiful fingers...

looking for my ribs would you join the Bedouins some day?

*

Within the cage of my ribs there is another sun.

That sun, too, is stuck in his cyclical task of rising and setting, without fail.   

May be another disposable Sun, but, recycled...  

*

A pain grows in my ribs. I nurture it like an expecting mother.

Till the date the pain is there in my ribs, it will keep reminding me of your fingers.

The fingers I chopped off long ago just like the fern on the hillside...  

The Princess of Termites

There was a library in my heart. She came and told, she had done diploma in Library science. She was beautiful like a princess. The door of my old library always remained ajar. She entered and started sorting some of the racks. It was good to keep someone on a trial period. It was an age old library, disarranged and full of spider webs. She started cleaning the dusts, listing the racks, cataloging the books. She was seemingly restless and energetic; as I could guess, she was in search of some particular book... may be a book that lost its cover page long ago. A book that might have no page numbers or index pages. Whatever, I was not sure about. I was happy since the library only used to collecting books without any systematic method or discipline. I never could ever throw out the old or unimportant books. I was very bad at taxonomy - what was less important for me, since everything carried its own smell and presence. As my library was unattended by me for long it was full of chaos. Within the chaos one day she got lost. One day I knocked her, got no response. The door was stuck. What happened? She was supposed to clean it up! I opened the door somehow and saw, all were turned into soil. I realized, it was too late, she was a princess of the termites.