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| From Google |
This poem is purely the product of my personal experience
of remote-kind of hard, but easy-comfort and free life! The countryside was it! How
I spent nights chasing animals from the field crops. And at last, in the end,
animals and I would be friends in the night. Animals like deer, when I make noises
are saved from the tiger.
Khayey (Sharchopa Term): Stilt hut; a tall hut made up of bits and parts of woods,
poles, leaves, etc, and usually made as a house for guarding farmlands.
It’s
hard
Hard in the rains or shines
But
it’s free
It’s
demanding
Calculating
the yields and the meals
But
it’s carefree.
A
Khayey is a thatched banana leaves
In
which, through perforated leaves see the moon
Moon
is the king in the night
Like wild animals are.
The
Khayey itself is all naturally built;
Tall
poles, little poles, leaf of verities
In
this nature, a human as I stand;
With
an insipid fire burning near my bed.
My
maize plants surround the Khayey
The
tall and tilting, swings gently
Sometimes
waves are just under my feet
Who
protects?
Anyways,
the fresh evening breeze keeps fresh
I
can hear every tiny sound
The
sound of all insects and creatures…
The
sound of cuckoo…
The
chatting of birds…
The
sound of animals rushing beside the farmland
It’s
their world.
Slowly
the sound dies
But
my friends come into life
Not
bothering whose crops they are destroying;
What
I have?
What
they have?
I
shout, throw stones piled beside my head
My
guests sprint down for a minute or two.
But
soon,
Alas!
Loud roars roar the deep valley of the forest
making different sounds
There
is commotion
‘My
deer,’ I cried
And the only way to help them from the prey
Is
just to shout continuously
I
expect some of them to come near my Khayey
And
take refugee.
But
it is a two-way blockage
It
is an easy trap for a tiger
And
he would never leave having one
There
is a painful cry of deer for many minutes,
As
he drags down the valley.
Oh
dear, it is painful to have my favorite orange deer
(I
saw her the previous evening)
And
I believe it’s all because of me
To
have chased away from my field
As
she came here for the refugee
If
she has been a refugee here
Then
where is my refugee place?
The
sinking thought answer silently in the night.
