Wakching-Gee Nong: The Winter Rain Poem by Homen Thangjam

Wakching-gee Nong.
Legends call it the elixir of life,
Thaws the winter snow,
Soothes the cold-parched earth,
Nurtures the plants and animals,
Washes the earth of its dirt and sin,
Rejuvenates the universe.

But this Wakching-gee Nong,
Cold and acid-like,
Numbs the flesh,
Cuts to the bone,
Comes riding the chariot of winter mist,
Perhaps, to dispel the shadows of the past,
And welcome the new with its shower of bitterness.

Naked I stood,
Underneath the downpour,
Soaking its bitterness,
Looking down at our land,
Ant-like people trampled,
By giants wielding guns,
By demons of democracy.

In a flash of lightning, I thought,
I saw the fangs of the Wakching-gee Nong,
Snarled, while its chariot stuck in the mud pools of blood,
Dried blood streaks of our people,
Wet by the ceaseless torrents into mud pools,
Fangs of anger or sublime submission, I couldn’t decipher,
But the roaring thunder spoke of the obvious.

This rain,
Cold and acid-like,
In its bitterness thundered,
Freed from the mud pools of blood,
And cleansed the land of its dirt,
By sweeping away the floating ant-like people,
Without touching the untouchables - the giants and the demons.

Naked I ran, lest the winter rain,
Washes away memories - sweet and bitter,
Nostalgic and pungent,
Call them treasures or black shadows,
Ethereal and fragile, yet, the only proof of living,
Prayed to spare them in a corner of graveyard.