Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 9, Number 1. May 2026. ISSN: 2581-7094
Empty
--- Longnam W. Kharpuri
I feel at times a sensible desolation
Amidst the dark ruins of incomplete buildings,
Of lost vision and hope.
The solitude of manicured gardens
Silences the voices of dissent.
Amidst the birdsong and the humming
bees,
Rising screams reel of a nearing death,
Of a near future
Where all unravels
Into the abyss of nothingness.
Amidst the blooming flowers,
The rot of what has perished
To bring new life?
It is the victory of death,
More so than of life, I see;
Where we fail to commit,
Where we fail to kneel,
And worship with steadfast belief and dedication
At the altar of life—
Worship empty of meaning.
We speak, and it becomes nothing—
Words empty of meaning.
We console, and it becomes nothing—
Consolation empty of meaning.
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
Carpe Diem
--- Longnam W. Kharpuri
At first glance, happiness—
Of utter fullness,
Of wholesome love
And care and contentment.
As days and weeks and years go by,
A glance becomes deep insight
Into a soul of void,
Looking to fill
A vacuum of loneliness in space,
Sucking and destroying all else
In its insatiable emptiness,
Awaiting salvation,
For comfort,
For true contentment.
We wait!
We wait!
I look to the hills and stars,
I look to the plunging falls and oceans,
All of which are marred
By loveless greed of industry.
For that one who will befriend,
For strength unbent
By the weight of life’s hardship,
I look and look and
Waver, weary of the dark days ahead.
We tire!
We tire!
There is a coldness to the blazing sun,
A sadness to life’s songful tune,
A whisper of mourning as the breeze sifts through
Trees tall and silent.
The horrors of life—
Hoping and dying.
Ha ka-nguh-ka-dem, ah Trai Kynrad,
Nongbuh-Nongthaw jaitbynriew Khasi,
Ngi pan ka-hok-ka-shikyntien,
Ba ngin tip, ngin phai biang sha Phi.
Ko Syiem, Ko Kmie,
Ko Mei Ramew,
Wat ieh sangsot ia ngi.
Ngin im kumno? Kum khunswet bapli,
Ha ri lajong, Ri Khasi[1].
Being
--- Longnam W. Kharpuri
Alas, for the night has passed,
The surety of knowing gone away,
I wait for another day,
Waiting for light
The joy of a journey
Is waiting for me,
Or sadness or banality.
I wait and hunger,
Anticipation
Tearing me asunder.
A breath of fresh air—
I need to breathe,
Let that freedom seethe,
Like a dam holding too much water,
The floodgates flung open
With a roar like thunder!
Rngiew lait sem, ban her sha bneng,
Ïawbei ngan kynduh Ïaphi![2]
Freedom! Myself, to be me at my best,
My full element,
Tearing the very tenement
Of the sky, the clouds, the sun, the moon—
No doubts whatsoever,
Only clarity and booming integrity,
And me, a true believer
In myself,
My Self.
But fear grips me, makes me want to bury
Myself from this world,
Hide and never unfurl.
Too many things
I wish to do,
Yet feel myself incapable, an underling,
To pursue.
Is this me?
Myself, my true Self?
Afraid and afraid to delve
Into life itself,
The outer shelf of the closet of existence?
Or happy to be closed within a dark compartment,
Knowing and sure as ever before,
A fire-spirit of new frontiers
Unworshipped, quenched,
With the waters of secure habit drenched
Through and through,
Never to imbue
The harsh tenuousness of unpredictability,
Or the learning curve of suffering’s ability,
Only that of stability,
Like stagnant water
Atop hard, dry soil.
I wonder and I wander.
Wanphai sha iing, sha dwar ka Kmie,
Mynsiem kan suk, Rngiew kan eh,
Jingsuk kan suh thied. [3]
Jingkieng Ksiar
Ah
ko Blei! Ah ko Blei!
Sangsot ka pur palei.
Apot sepsngi,
Dkut Dieng Jri-
Jingkieng Ksiar Khasi!
Ngin phai shano?
Ngin Phet shano?
Shiteng sha bneng, shiteng ha tbiañ,
Shiteng ngi long, shiteng bymman.
Tipbriew haoid, Tip Blei shano?
Kamai hikai, Ka Hok patde?
Apot sepsngi!
Dkut Dieng Jri-
Jingkieng Ksiar Khasi!
Translation:
Oh God! Oh God!
The world is heavy with suffering.
Apot sepsngi,
The sacred bridge lies broken—
The Golden Bridge of the Khasi!
Where do we turn?
Where do we flee?
Half in heaven, half upon earth,
Half made whole, half turned to naught.
We are taught to honour one another—
But where now do we seek God?
We are taught to earn, but what of integrity?
Apot sepsngi,
The sacred bridge lies broken—
The Golden Bridge of the Khasi.
[1] Translation:
With bowing and kneeling, O Lord our Master,
Maker and Keeper of the Khasi people,
We ask for truth—ka shikyntien—
That we may yet return to You.
O Queen, O Mother,
O Mei Ramew,
Do not leave us to suffering.
How shall we live, like unfortunate orphans
In our own
land, our Ri Khasi.
[2] Translation: My spirit set free, to soar
to the sky—
Ancestress, I shall meet you there!
[3] Translation: Returning home, to the
Mother’s threshold,
The soul shall rest, the spirit grow strong,
And peace take root within.
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Bio:
Longnam W. Kharpuri is an
Assistant Professor of English at a college in Meghalaya. Outside of teaching,
she enjoys bird watching, bird photography, and exploring art and music. She
occasionally writes essays, with her latest being “Lyrical Resistance in the Shillong
Music Scene: Women in Music and Dissidence” (Zubaan Projects). Her poems have also
been featured in We Come From Mist: Writings from Meghalaya (edited by Janice Pariat).
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