Chandon
Dr. Nunglekpam Premi Devi *
Brighter the better, it looks clear distinct;
Double the layer, always a mistaken made;
Fascinating it looks, hastily I made duality;
Ah! Standing on its tip and top, platform nose;
White and creamy and solid and muddy dry,
All's strength when all's done rubbing;
Ornamenting water to that smaller steel bowl;
Reaching those aqua holding middle finger out;
One drop, two drop and three tapping in and out;
Oh my crown! Water's over spilling;
And rubbing and rubbing and rubbing clear roily;
Phuu phuu phuu! I blow again and again,
Parching those miry out calming;
Adjusting and adjusting, each and again;
Layers by layers; rolling and rolling;
Digging and poking; tilling and spading;
Holding confirming, with that bamboo artifact;
Chandon's a commitment; Chadon's a responsibility.
Softer I press upon, lighter I line those;
Holding firmly, I layer double and again evenly;
Edging and bordering; cording and coursing;
Erasing and deleting; lining and imprinting;
Rubbing and watering; holding and spading;
Chandon O Chandon! You're an engraver;
You're an incise culture;
I pity you're a register symbol;
Chandon's all pure and chandon's all sacred;
I doubt not, half bath all cleanse, adoring you on my forehead;
I care not any shaggy hairs and clothes;
All's clean; all's pure chandon on forehead;
I pray you're my identity, my presence all mighty;
Chandon's a sturdy fashioned so daring;
Judging not my evils, my profile so religious;
Happy I remember on religion, I forgot definitely.
Seasons not counted, I walk tall with chandon on;
No winter, no summer; no rainy and no dry day;
Every day and night, and not a rest day;
Drugging myself, chnadon's every day portion;
Chandon's my gesture; chandon's my symbol;
I talk and I weep; I laugh and cried chandon;
Shradha and marriage; feasting and fasting;
Birth and death; Ceremonies and cutting;
You represent me, And I you;
Rain's your enemy; sweating your foe;
You drench too easily; wet and soaking;
Murky and cloudy and spatter and bathing;
Mesmerizing your ego, I steep low unreasonable;
Oh! Your chandon's gone, echoes in front;
Sadly you take away my ethics;
My morality's gone ever; Chandon O chandon!
Who thou are my Name, religion?
* Poem written by Dr. Nunglekpam Premi Devi for Imphal Times
The writer is an Independent Scholar
This poem was webcasted on November 28 2018.
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