Mid-June, Mid-Monsoon - Zualteii Poonte

Mid-June, mid-monsoon,

raindrops cluster on windows,

tree branches sway in the wind outside.

The front page of Vanglaini this morning carries

a picture of workers in a clearing on a steep hillside,

bent low and weeding,

The caption says the YMA of Samthang village yesterday

came together to weed the land of a farmer

ailing and unable to tend to his land.

The paper also says there were 83 volunteers in all.

In the face of rapidly changing values and priorities,

Tlawmngaihna lives on,

and my faith in humanity is restored

this dismal monsoonal day.

Writer's note: This poem was inspired by this photograph that appeared on the front page of Vanglaini (Mizoram's widest-selling daily newspaper) on the 18th June 2025. The spirit of tlawmngaihna, the jewel in the crown of Mizo culture, clearly lives on today: small, quiet, unobtrusive gestures of humanity that are never splashed all over social media or even seem to be part of our contemporary life anymore but instinctively come to the fore when the need arises.

Mannequins - Lalremengmawia Khenglawt

 

They come alive where light enters not,
Where blight blankets the deep undergrowth,

Where one has to squat and squint,
To chance upon the thought of a glimpse

The passage of time is strange;
It makes the lucid deranged

It renders mechanical joints to creak and moan,
While the dearth of it makes grown men groan

Audibly, yet the mass of likeness offends no audiophile
On the contrary, they are simply lined up in a pile

For the next make-believe organ to come along,
Till the whole forms a singular throng

And when you prop them up in broad daylight,
It becomes clear that they are not quite right

They are like us - the illusion of skin and bone,
Two bulging temples, housed by a skeletal dome

But they do not feel like we do, they dare not
Let emotions out to wander and trot

For emotions unchecked tend to run riot,
Till deep dark secrets are no longer private

They only emerge in tandem with the shadow,
Always mindful to avoid the evening glow

But if you ever chance upon them in the dead of night,
I implore you to chide your primal urge to take flight

Seek them, look where the light enters not,
Where unrelenting blight blankets the deep undergrowth.

 

Lalramengmawia Khenglawt  loves nature and draws inspiration from hikes around the outskirts of Aizawl where he lives and works. He gave a reading of this poem recently at a Poetry over Coffee programme organised by the Department of English, Govt. Aizawl College, of which he is a proud alumnus.