BY SHITAL PRADHAN A small hamlet in an eastern side Silent raush on its way, The old silk route, More older it look Upon which I stay, Hey that’s Rongli, Rongli my birthplace Years went by, years dried up, Yet the small village is as it was, Silent, peaceful and introvert Today’s picture of Rongli, Houses as station bogie, Looks a cradle, from Chujachen, Upon which the blue sky, As if I can touch thee, Roaring River, As the legend we hear, Still watch with glee, The terror of 1890 somewhat forgotten, Yet another terrorizing moment, 68 was the year… 1968, When sky too wasn’t pleased. That was Rongli, Rongli of the past. Playing along the Baar-Pepal tree, Hiding in the Shivalaya, Watching videos and aloft Is a decent memory, now? Sweet time in treasure, Yet when I am in Rongli, I am happy, in whither sweet. Rongli my birthplace !
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Oh, God.
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