NELit review

Behulas Death
The event had no link to flood But it happened during the time of flood A snake bit me As a result of accidental treading upon a coil It struck me effectively Pumping poison with fangs It grabbed the opportunity of shaded invisibility Perhaps it waited for me to strike or looked for some fault in me It needed only the slightest reason for action One false move or a weak moment I heard a faint sound when it struck me But did not know whether it was in my mind or in the air I died in no time It was so sudden before I could realise Was the snake terrible or beautiful? And the death? Was it like the snake dark, cold and fearful That slithered away? With my untimely death Ended a path called life and my existence forever It was a matter of venomous strike Doctor, ojha no one could save me I was dead I was dressed like a bride, caressed And was cast adrift on a plantain raft All alone down the stream of swelled river Yes, it was so! All have to travel alone Down the thistle road to death No one was with me No life, no companions and dear ones The shehnai did not play the mourning note Neither did the quivering note of flute... haba jinglab aywihaba jinglab Look at the stricken faces clothed in lives Pale, weary, defeated, diffident, helpless As if they had never seen freedom When the departure came My husband did every rite He looked pale as he bid me farewell the last farewell Maybe it is the difference between the dead and the living The living observe all rites sensible or insensible And the dead They are utterly free from all illusions, chains, rites, fears, faiths A simmering oil flame burnt on the raft The oarless raft was carried through lands and rivers What a turbulent surge of the river Oh! What a form of existence or non-existence of death or hereafter of faith or faithlessness? A question arises in mind (which is not an illegitimate one!) What would Lakhindar do in such a situation? I mean, Lakhindar, husband of Behula Would the story of faithful women put the question to rest? From the bridge the crowd watched A live drama performed in the evening river As if they were gazing at the flood water (Some might have an interest in it too!)
ANJU BASUMATARY TRANS: SJ WARY
Basumatary is author of Phasini Doulengao Okhaphwr

POST script 3
APRIL 29, 2012

SEVEN SISTERS

High Above The Clouds

High above the clouds Flies my dream High above the clouds Lies my lifes realm The other half of my body Shes my Eve A lifetimes love I run after her As Yom ran after Yomi In an endless chase. Who says shes my blood Who says shes my own sister To me shes the first woman of my lifes creation For me and me only Shes born so fresh and beautiful High above the clouds High above the clouds Runs my Raoni dear Flashing her creamy-white thighs High above the clouds Runs my love I chase after her With roaring thunder High above the clouds Flies my dream Lies my lifes realm. Soon after the thunderstorm and shower In the field of Khanthalgudi village They solemnise the marriage of Raona and Raoni With the beats of kham And the melodious tune of sifung High above the clouds High above the clouds My dream flies The other half of my being flies.
ANIL BORO TRANSLATED BY POET
The poem is based on a Bodo folktale, titled Raona and Raoni, which recounts the origin of thunder and lightning. It is also included in JD Andersons collection. This folktale tells us about the incestuous relation between a brother and his sister

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TURNERS
MAHESWAR NARZARY
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If You Ever Come To My Village

If you ever come to my village Dont forget to meet me Just across the rivulet and the bamboo footbridge Is the lush green areca nut and jackfruit grove And the orchard of mellow fruits and fragrant blossoms If you ever come to my village Dont be scared of rainy seasons mud Here the damsels plant sali crop Wading knee-deep through mud The ploughmen plough the virgin field Dont forget to share the bowl of rice beer of nangol jankhra The ripe and flabby feet of the sikhlas smeared with mud And the twinkle of their deer-like eyes. There they work and sing the hymns Of the rain-drenched land and lifes calling. If you ever come to my village Do never forget to meet me There, in the paddy field by the roadside I work and sing the pasture song with the reapers If you want to taste the pestled fish and green coriander leaves And the dish of boiled lafa mwidru Come to the golden field in the month of Aghon There, by the roadside Beckons the golden fields of my dear village. If you ever come to my village Do never miss meeting me In the Kherai Sali of our village in full-moon night In the month of Magh. With the beats of kham, And the tune of sifung, And the rhythm of jotha Dance the doudini, followed by devotees in a circle. The siju plant encircled by lines of Khankhla reed And embankment of rice powder And pairs of offerings on plantain leaves. There, among the devotees, youll find me. If you ever come to my village, Do never miss meeting me The old house under the peepal tree is my workplace. To learn my mother tongue with the kids, To acquire the basics of addition and subtraction To acquire the music of lifes illumination There, wiping the mucus off their noses, they learn how to dot The slates with the First tables of their life And try to draw the lines and shades of their life On the broken walls of their school. Do never forget to come to my village, oh my friend There, at the crossroads of the hills and plains, Dazzles with the blissful kiss of the sun My dear little village Far, far away from the madding crowd There, beckons the last home for humanity.
ANIL BORO TRANSLATED BY THE POET

Writer and translator Maheswar Narzary won the Bal Sahitya Puraskar 2011 for his work Puranni Solo Phithikha, an adaptation of tales from the Puranas. His writings include Boro Tripuri Rao Swdwb, Bathwou Bwrai Eba Sri Sri Siva Gita, Tolstoyni Solo and Srimad Vagawad Gubji Geeta. He tells Gitanjali Das that Bodo literature still has a long way to go
u What does literature mean to you? Do you think it has any relevance in our day-to-day lives? According to you, does it have anything to do with all that is happening around us? t Literature has been mirroring society from time immemorial. Literature is a ladder of knowledge that leads us towards progress. Literature is what happens to us every day. It is an inseparable part of peoples lives and their quest for knowledge. I am a reader of scriptures. Religious books talk about Kaliyug when everything will be destroyed. Today we are witnessing what these books had predicted.

Boro teaches at the Gauhati University. He is author of Siphungni Dengkhw, San Mwkhangari Simang, and Angni Gamiyao Dwijlang.

iNKPOT
They Are Colour-Blind
(A flower petal : For Sobha Brahma) They know not How different black from white is. Because they are colour-blind. What a big difference Between yours and theirs! For this reason the beautiful rainbow Appears pale to their eyes. Where your creative mind tries To portray the real picture Of El Dorado They see only Sahara and leave The oasis unseen So they can say Art for arts sake. There is the Pacific Ocean On the leaves of the cynodon dactlon Around the homestead And there are countless cosmos In the foot dust of thousands of men. I see the signs and images of Origin of creation Wherever you put your brush When you try to find a kingdom of heaven Upon the dust of Hiroshima-Nagasaki, I also wish to proclaim. I dont want to die in this beautiful world. But they are the colour-blind! The veil of the Dark Age is not yet Removed from their faces.
BRAJENDRA KUMAR BRAHMA TRANS: ANIL BORO
Brahma is author of Okhrang Gongse Nanggou.

Beyond The Bodhidrum

As soon as I was born on this earth I felt snow-cold caress Of an unseen hand I tremble to see the naked torso of the graveyard. And the flight of vultures in the sky. This body sweats blood Fighting all along For sustaining the pangs of solitary life; Picking a drop of eternity I begin to tread the old road Taken by many. It was the same road Along which came Siddharth once Wearing the sign of a free traveller In his two eyes. With hunger and thirst by hundred times He ruminated Beyond his material life What is there on the other side, A life sweeter than this? By love, renunciation and hatred A careful scrutiny of this world The restless mind comes Under the shade of the quiet Boddhidrum. Beneath the shady branches Of the sturdy tree The ray of an unknown star Reached and illumined him. Yet this is not the end, The pillar of my journey; The aim of life is yet to be achieved Yet another star unexplored. I want to untangle the knots Of heaven and hell And the life before and after death and now, Taking all responsibilities in my hands I want to fathom Life. This real world
BRAJENDRA KUMAR BRAHMA TRANS: ANIL BORO

Fire In The Forest

They built their huts in the jungle They built their houses in the forest For whom did they clear the jungle For whom did they build the huts By the green fields? Murmured the silent rivulet Here, in the virgin forest Resounded with ancient melody The flute of the cowherd Butterfly dreams once were there When the lush vegetation heard The baidemlai tune of serja There still was my dear little village With the jungles jiggling and jostling With the dim light here and there. It was here that their dreams blossomed As fragrant as the fresh bloom The innocent laughter of children It was here that the beats of kham beckoned the clouds The virgin fields leaped up to the tune of sifung Now they have built tall buildings here And built their capital here The fire they brought burns the jungle now Here, there and everywhere Now the virgin forest and the lush green vegetation Are pushed to an unnatural death This fire called civilisation and development, Whats this for? For war? Is this for mutual killing and destruction? There is this fire everywhere There is this fire in the virgin forest There is fire in the lush green jungle.
ANIL BORO TRANSLATED BY THE POET

u Name one book that had a lasting impact on you. In what way? t Brahma Vaivarta Purana has inspired and taught me a lot. Srimad Bhagavad Gita is another book that has given me much knowledge. These books talk of Lord Krishna, Brahma, Vishnu and numerous other legendary characters like Savitri and Behula. I had translated Savitri-Yam Sambad from Brahma Vaivarta Purana. Savitri had pleaded for her husbands life and asked Lord Yama questions about life and death, which taught me about sins, punishments and which sins lead to what kind of tortures after death. u What book would you recommend for our readers and why? t Srimad Bhagavad Gita is one book which, I feel, everybody should read. It is known as an ocean of knowledge. I can say that there are no books which can give more knowledge than Srimad Bhagavad Gita.

u What future do you see for literature from the Northeast? t Northeastern literature is progressing at a fast pace. And every state of the region is contributing to its development. Bodo literature has also made progress but I feel the majority of Bodo people do not pay much attention to the language. Though we have been fighting for the recognition of our language, people do not respect it the way they should. There are a number of people who do not even know the language. It is not as developed as Assamese, Bengali and other languages of the region. Bodo literature still has a long way to go.

u How close is your relation with literature in general, and with literature of the Northeast in particular? t I am a lover of literature. It is an indispensable part of my life. I am an avid reader of the Ramayana, the Mahabharata and the Puranas. When it comes to literature from the Northeast, I follow Bodo, Assamese and Bengali literature. So far as writing is concerned, I translate from Bengali.

Bardoisikhla
I was on the move. And quite suddenly There struck a silky dragonfly. Against my helmet. I was on the move And Had no time to stop. The passers-by cried, The dragonfly is not a dragonfly Its Bardoisikhla. Who is here to usher in the festival Of youthful spring
AUROBINDO UZIR TRANS: ANIL BORO

Uzir is author of Mwndangthini Rwjabthai

Illustration: Amrith Basumatary