Lianchhiari

(painting by LT Zohranga)

'Should the wind carry this voice.'

Reaching the edge of the rock
she beckons me
Saying ''Come sit with me and sing''
Would they hear I ask
''I don't know'' she says
To what purpose then I ask
''I don't know'' she replies
''But come sit. We'll drown out this emptiness
and pretend that echoes are answers''

So in the still of the night
There by the side
of a mountain,
There we sat
Singing songs of lovers
In a strange land

She lifts her voice
to the lilt of a soft breeze
The cliffs sway to the nuances
Of notes that rise and fall
in a dirge of bitter reverie
Every word she punctuates with the deepest longing
Every strain she thrusts with the urgency of living
(or is it death?)
Calling him home
Come back to where you belong

Till her voice starts to tire,
She turns to me
With eyes pleading through a film of water
Begging to not let the silence take over
The killing silence that surrounds threateningly.

So I raise a stammering voice
To the odour of pollinating flowers
Of cherry blossoms blooming
from a melancholic cherry tree.

Dispersed into the unsure wind she smiles
''Let it fall all over, all apart, near and far
Let it reach them anywhere,
anywhere they are''

Closer and closer to the edge
She dances wildly
But always, before she falls over
Dawn breaks and I ask her
Would they hear
''I don't know'' she says
''But it's better than the emptiness
and we'll pretend that echoes are answers''

So in the still of the night
There by the side
of a mountain
There we sit
Singing songs of lovers
In a strange land.