Robin S Ngangom
Robin S Ngangom is an Indian poet and translator from Manipur, North Eastern India.
Robin Singh Ngangom was born in Imphal, Manipur of North Eastern India. He is a bilingual poet who writes in English and Manipuri. He studied literature at St Edmund's College and the North Eastern Hill University Shillong, and serves as a Lecturer in the Dept. of English at NEHU. He is the Editor of New Frontiers, journal of the Northeast Writers' Forum, Guwahati, and is Nominating Editor for Manipuri for Katha Translation Awards, New Delhi.
He was conferred with Katha Award for Translation in 1999, was invited to the UK for the UK Year of Literature and Writing, ... more »
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Robin S Ngangom Poems
A sleepless night, a lovelorn night, and poetry arrived silent, to console my wounded being.
Funerals And Marriages
I’ve forgotten acts of kindness or to wish people happiness if they can find it anywhere. I would, if I could, help the bereaved furtively after the mourners have eaten and left.
My Invented Land
My native soil was created from tiny sparks that clung to grandmother’s earthen pot which conjured savoury dishes I’ve been looking for
15 August 2008, Northeast India
Having lost my independence How could I celebrate it Though I've sewn flags on cockeyed schooldays? Margins are superfluous in the big centre's book
I remember only the detritus of schools which taught fear, where only nuns seemed to believe in the power of the written word and punishment.
The Ignominy Of Geometry
The ignominy of geometry, the inability to evade angles and parallels. Living, we have to suffer that mortification which robs the sacrifice of joy
Houses (After Cavafy)
We believe we own them but In the evening of a street not a soul will be found. Only a few stars shuffling in the oily sky and Orange trees for neighbours.
Hill, you and I have seen only upheaval since our birth. When I was torn from the universal womb I echoed your silent cry.
The kite transforming into smoke lacing The chinars is not a symbol. The rose has migrated from the garden of paradise. Freedom will never come
A writer can survive without a car but a window with his palm feeling the breath of a street or a garden, a few weeping pens
Comments about Robin S Ngangom
Funerals And Marriages
I’ve stopped going to funerals and marriages.
Any public demonstration of grief or joy unnerves me.
Solemnity withers me and I hate being genteel with a
pinstripe and noose around my neck. It is not that
I’ve forgotten acts of kindness or to wish
people happiness if they can find it anywhere. I
would, if I could, help the bereaved furtively after
the mourners have eaten and left. I have become truly
I don’t know why anyone would like to be
comforted by anybody except people they love
selfishly. You only need hugs and kisses from people