Exile

“I hail from that land

across the snow-clad hills
my little village, choudah hajaar pyuthaan,
where my old folks live

I was thirteen I think

when I came here
walking long ways
with my husband, then thirty

no one really counts age in my village

Don’t blame my folks, O please don’t
I had to take off the debts
from their frail souls
they always gave me enough
to eat and sustain
with hearts filled with love
there is nothing really to blame 

When I left home
this red bead necklace is what they gave 
I often clean 

and smoothen the beads
it is then that I think
of my home…across the hills

This land was alien, the language new
people were scary, I did not know what to do
then, in the lonesome hour of the night
I would think of aamaa
and the precious gift 
only a mother could give
she taught me to be happy wherever I lived

My husband died, a few years ago
I have children,
grandchildren that cradle on my lap
I am devoted, surrounded...but always alone

I have worked long years

for the people down the lane

they feel like my own

I found them, perhaps that's why
this pull is not 

from this lifetime alone
It is beyond words 

to explain 

the love we share
the day the young one graduates

just you watch

she will buy me a ticket 

to my distant land

Until then,
I rest and smile
with a vision
of my folks

my home, choudah hajaar pyuthaan
across those snow-clad hills…”

This poem is a tribute to and gratitude for Nani (Devi Sonar), my Nanima. Nani was an integral part of my childhood in Duliajan, Assam. She has greatly contributed to my understanding of what it means to be kind. Towards her, I hold a deep, never-fading love and immense respect. Her extraordinariness will not go quietly into the night...

    A photo of Nanima and me in Duliajan