By Takhellambam Priyokumar
Between the twain –
O Tuensang,
In my childhood,
Heard something about you.
O Bengala, hope you reached your home there.
I beg to please,
A plea, O Mokokching,
I hope to visit you someday.
Never seen, O Kohima,
Your war cemetery.
O ye valiant guards!
At Imphal, you airlifted yours
Bravest sons, your crack regiments.
With tender hands, grooms,
Little red rose plants, of
Tiny red and crimson flowers,
And the brave sons, “called to duty,
But never sent back home,” laments,
The darlings at home.
O brave soldiers!
“Where England lies forever,”
In the soil o f our motherlands,
Manipur and Nagaland.
And, O Fatherland,
Oh Germany! Oh Germany!
“Full many a gem of purest ray screne,
Lies untapped on the deep ocean bed,
Like the seven little,
Sisters, guarding the eastern front,
And the north-eastern sky.
And the great Chingiz Khan,
O Mongal warlord, you did,
But thy duty, seemed fit,
In your eyes, O Lord!
Where are the seven stars?
On the beautiful tri-colour,
Fluttering proudly on the –
Rampart, of the Fort, the Red.
An appeal, O Lord.
Forsake us not,
We too challenged thy forces,
Ready to protect, unto death,
Our motherland, your gentle souls.
I wish no evil,
But seek the truth, and the right,
For a brighter and happier tomorrow.
And,
Taking up arms,
In the dark hours of the night,
Torches,
For an endless vigil,
And kind candles, in their whites, on,
On the black canvass,
To save all, all their braves.
O brave mothers!
I bow and salute , all thee gentle warriors.
And, O Kohima !
Let us shake hands, a round.
Amen, Lord Amen.