Ibohal Kshetrimayum Biography

Names intrigue me the most.
Even mine does!
Come to think of it,
I was named even before I knew
...

Black was a thief,
Who stole anything,
Between pots and clothes.
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Wet curls
Begging a wish
To touch them.
But for the mist,
...

Like clothes you wear me
Like a tool you use me
Like ink you pour me
And write stories
...

In the hills of seven huts,
Where war is either a name or surname,
And dreams are translated into numbers,
And a number became a gambler's sad song,
...