READ OUR STORIES |
READ OUR STORIES |
Of Unbrushed Hair and He Who Stands in Grandeur
My sister is winging a sharp eyeliner
She paces frantically back and forth in between —
Brushing her hair, caressing and ironing the black floral wrap dress
The one with the little white peonies engraved on, that she loves so much
She tells me she’s not to put on a lot of blush
Upon enquiring, she says her fiancé doesn’t like it—though she does.
A Mother's Lament: Sorrow's Enduring Embers
What of the child,
so pure and young,
the family's breadwinner,
whose old mother, ever vigilant
listens for his return.
Leaving
She was riding pillion, and I was aware of her knees brushing against the sides of my thighs at every bump and every turn. She was holding onto my shirt; I told her to circle them all the way around my waist. The road to safety was long and rocky, and it felt like there could be an ambush at every turn, either by her kindred or mine. We were only sixteen, but we were in love, and we were above the divide—Kuki, Zomi; none of that mattered to us.
The Roads We Cannot Take
What does it mean to travel? Is it as simple as going from point A to point B? For some, it’s just movement - a mundane act, a means to an end. But for others, it is a quiet, relentless struggle. A reminder that displacement is not always about exile; sometimes, it’s about the invisible lines that turn familiar paths into battlegrounds.
For the Kuki-Zo people of Manipur, movement itself has become an act of survival. Since the escalation of ethnic clashes between the Meitei and Kuki communities in May of 2023, the Imphal airport has remained inhospitable ground for the Kuki Zo population. This is not a legal order or a political mandate, but it is common knowledge for all of us from the community. For us, the Imphal airport is a risk.