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Excerpts

Tryst

When we met
On the afternoon sands
The Dibong was on fire
And I, my kaneng
was on fire too.

When you let fall
your ribi-gAcheng
At my feet,
I was scalded.

I reached out
For coolness in the shadow
Of your breasts
And I was scorched.

You did nothing to help.

	dibong: Assam river
	ribi-gAcheng: a mising woman's clothing

[reminds me of a famous poem, can't put my finger on it...

bohAg mAthu eti ritu nahai

	(bohAg is not merely a season)

It is Bihu back home

Perhaps there is bohAg in the air,
Perhaps death.
Perhaps dhol-pepA-gaganA sound
Perhaps bullets.
Perhaps the kapou is in bloom
Perhaps blood.
... bullet, blood and death, death, blood and bullet:  that's
all there is.  Perhaps I am better away; or perhaps, better home...

But it is Bihu today
Back home,
And I am far away.
					p.16

	bihu: Assamese spring festival;
	bohAg - month in spring;
	dhol-pepA-gaganA : musical instruments;
	kapou: assamese orchid]