The first few lines of a poem by Desmond Kharmawphlang


In the trackless plains of folklore,
I read the story of how one lives backwards.
With parched hearts too full to understand,
we entered into the land itself,
we bled into its veins.

Here in Ri-Bhoi, we celebrate the ceremony of regret,
the symphony of sorrow.
Desmond’s a folklorist and poet who has inspired many younger poets back in my hometown Shillong and the larger region of Northeast India. He, along with a couple of other guys I will mention in later posts, was the first to encourage me to take poetry writing seriously way back in the early nineties. He introduced me to Pablo Neruda and a whole new world where poets and their writing were a voice that mattered. I consider him to be one of my first mentors and I deeply respect him for that. Google him and check out his writing and works. His is a unique voice that has influenced many.



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