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© Somte Ralte 2019 All rights reserved All rights reserved by author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within. First Published in October 2019 ISBN: 978-93-5347-782-0

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To my supervisor

Prof. Sarangadhar Baral

Wild Hearts

Contents To The City of Eternal Romance 1 What if Forever 3 A Cole Park Afternoon 5 To the Guy Who Could Look Like Clint Eastwood 6 B 9 Life in Our Mizo Hills- III 10 Wild Hearts 12 Lines for a Pretty Girl 13 Winding Windy Road 14 Aizawl 18 15 Another Sunset Song 17 Flybird 19 Once Upon a Time 20 Spring in my Winter 21 In This Part of Heaven 22 Back, to Back 24 Letters on Spring 28 A Poem Among the Sea of Wildflowers 29 Tell Me Your Stories 31 Song of the Aborigine 32 Live 34 Night Sky 36 Paint My Summer 37 Free Spirit 38 Of the Speaking Tree* 40 1 A.M 42 A Night at the Mart 44

Son of the hill-lock 46 Never/ Dreamt 48 Petals 49 Butterflies’ Flight 50 Emptiness 52 The Aftermath 54 I Hope 55 Hearts of Gold 56 The Muse 57 Little Red Flower 60 Waiting 62 Lucy’s Smile 63 Love Note On a Stormy Night 64 Dear Isa 65 Happiness 67 Purple Wings 69 What’s in a Name, Anyway? 71 The Niramis Affair 74 Silence 76 My Fairy Tale 77

To The City of Eternal Romance I miss you. I never imagined, After all these years I would carry so much of you, Still alive in every senses of my small frame: The acrid smell of the farmhouse, The reek of phenyl at the hostel corridors, The wild rejuvenating spring wind that flew down dead winter leaves; The endless summer heat coursing through every fabric of the body, The biting cold of winter accompanied by the free sailing wind of the Himalaya. Bearer of good fortune O, keeper of dark secrets The place of dreams The Valley of Blood I miss you. Your lanes and by-lanes Winding roads Gulmohar trees Green grassy fields Moss-dotted pukhuris -1-

Sparrows and mynas and crows and cranes Pigeons and eagles and hawks and kites Gentle cows grazing and lively goats straying; We lived our lives carefree Unlearnt of the world’s ways. With laughter pure as innocent hearts We believed the future was ours. And love was young as the rising sun The first kiss soft as the morning dew; In those moments of foolish inexperience You stood patiently watching us learn life mores: The hurt of betrayal, the ache of goodbyes The guilt of letting go, the pain of shattered dreams. For almost a decade Like a fairy godmother You watched over us As we got along living. I am so much of you Made by your caresses Moulded by your touch Softened by your sights. You are always a larger unknown of me And you always will remain so. –pukhuri: Assamese for lake.

-2-

What if Forever What if forever is more than Flawlessly written words Running blue across the rosy-pink card Still hung on the wall What if forever is The palm of our hands Magnified trillion thousand times Each line yet clearly visible What if forever is Measured by the brevity of time The clouds that rest In the bosom of our winter valleys What if forever is The endless serpentine road Climbing atop the mountains Leading us to nowhere What if forever is This dream of impossibility Where vision is impaired And all senses numbed -3-

What if forever is That you carry in your heart Unspoilt and unrivalled The belief that would never leave you by And what if forever is Just words written by your flawless hand Running blue across the birthday card you’d given Words that mean everything and nothing?

-4-

A Cole Park Afternoon Remember how the golden rays seeped through the leaves To touch our young skins with soft radiance As we sat side by side on the grassy carpet The gentle breeze tenderly brushing our faces It was perfect, just you and i With no care in the world There was that look in your eyes That something only i could see And as we watched the old couple Walking down the marbled pavement You told me that would be us Someday in the distant future. Perhaps that perfect afternoon Could not hold two hearts together Since all that we have now Is just the memory of a Cole Park afternoon.

-5-

To the Guy Who Could Look Like Clint Eastwood There was something about you the other night, Or something about the way The corner of your cheeks wrinkled Every time you smiled. Forgive me if you had thought I was forward, But I really did mean every single word I had said: Thus I repeat, “I wish we had met after you were fifty years old.” For Eastwood in his fifties Was the epitome of rugged handsomeness; And just as time has been kind to him, I could see that time would be kind to you too. Forgive me if I had gone overboard; Dreaming of seeing you Grow bald And old and wrinkling; But in your fifties I had hoped that you’d only look better, Those fingers working on the keys -6-

Would have become much smoother, Just as the accompanying voice Would have become more profound. But then I forgive you, For citing our age-differences; When there might have been better options For you to refuse me. You could have mentioned How completely I baffled you With the kind of attention I gave you Or the utter confusion I caused of you. Or you could have said That I simply did not interest you Or that I wasn’t pretty enough Or that I wasn’t tall enough. “I don’t deserve you, You’re too mature for my immature self,” Is nonsensically pointless, to say to someone like me Who always thinks of herself two years older than she actually is; Who, every year, has to calculate Just to be reminded of the many years of blessings she has to count. But to cite maturity as a hurdle, -7-

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