It was past midnight
The goddess of Delhi city
Wide eyed, sharp nosed is in her slumber
Roving my eyes for passers by, I pushed
The tall, long, Godlike
Qutub Minar
Thought I can’t do without taking it to Imphal
I fancied Qutub Minar standing by the Samu Makhong
hoping this would designate Samu Makhong
Towards Indira Gandhi airport Qutub Minar loaded on my head, I marched
they refused and there wasn’t
a plane that could carry the Qutub Minar
To the stench filled and faeces scattered railway station,
I headed
they said they couldn’t drag it till Guwahati
they could, till Jalpaiguri though
I hitched on the Avadh Assam train
They were right when they said this train collects cow-dungs
It dragged itself like a pregnant serpent, leaving its trails of smoke
A long halt on reaching Bihar
I Got off to sip a cup of tea
from Lalu’s clay cup it was, I savoured
Summer scorched peasants were awaiting the rains
Neither Mayang nor Meitei, a peasant is just a peasant
Laboured and exhausted, awaiting rains
After rains harvest
After harvest the abuses of the feudal lord
I’ve reached Jalpaiguri
Waiting to exhibit the prowess of this Meitei Lion
I traversed with the Qutub Minar loaded on my head
I swam the breadth of the mighty Brahmaputra
One arm splashing, one arm dragging the Qutub Minar
I am Hanuman, I thought
In the dense forest of Assam the songs of the tea plantation workers wafts through
Tendered my heart, the songs of the suffering humanity
was the same
Suffering knows no place, has no face
The unknown tongue pierced my heart
I rested at Kohima
Relinquishing a dish of pork and rice I tarried on
the serpentine road of the hills
akin to the flow of rivulets
People stared at me, at the Qutub Minar
At Highway 39, I paid the usual tax
One asked, ‘Oh, What is this big tall thing?’
I replied ‘Its nothing, just a pestle
imported from Bilat by Meitei ema to feed her indolent sons’
I arrived at the bosom of the persevering Meitei ema
Now I am at Sekmai Bazaar
While I was flirting with the pale brew
While the onlookers were watching me with envy
Suddenly from a black car the Chief Minister alighted
Said he to me
“Man what have you done
How will I respond to Manmohan
The government in Delhi is about to collapse
Opposition accuses
Manmohan has gifted Qutub Minar to Obama
To support the tilting Statue of Liberty”
Said I to him
“Honourable Minister Saheb,
Please convey to Manmohan
When AFSPA is repealed you can take back the QutubMinar
Otherwise I will be on my own course
Draped in a phanek* I hope to install it at the Samu Makhong
When my mother draped the barren papaya tree with a phanek
It bored fruit
Let me clothe the Qutub Minar with a phanek
Tall and robust it might look becoming
And when they take the Qutub Minar
The names of those massacred
I will carve on it vividly and gift it back”
*sarong
(Translated by Soibam Haripriya)
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The poem was written sometime in 2009 and made it into a song later in 2010. We have m🐼ourned so much, we have protested so much against AFSPA. I wanted to mock the draconian act. Qutub Minar, in some way, represents India and its civilisation. I wanted to know how New Delhi feels to wake up in a mor🎉ning just to find out Qutub Minar is missing. I want it gone, taken away by a chinky fellow from Imphal in the song/poem. And that’s exactly what AFSPA has been doing to us. It snatches away the lives of your loved ones, it kills you and your families.
Akhu Chingangbam is a poet and singer from Manipur.
