O' MANIPUR - A WHISPERS OF A WOUNDED LAND

O' Manipur, a land of strife and woe,
Where ancient hills and valleys flow,
The fields that once knew harvest gold,
The laughter of our children's play,
Now shadows fall, the silence broken,
By cries and weeps that never cease.

While justice turned a blindfolded eye,
As innocence deprived.
The Tahchapas were beheaded, cruelly chopped,
And a Tahchanu's wails, with a haunting sound,
Paraded naked, shamed, in daylight's glare,
Their dreams extinguished, lost in air.

Once the sacred church,
where prayers and worshipped were heard,
Now ashes in the air, all things blurred,
The songs of hope, the hymns of peace,
Have fallen silent, sorrow's lease.
Our homes in valleys, reduced to cinders, grey,
Where dreams were built with care.

O' Manipur, where once love and unity,
Is but a ghostly trace,
How long before your valleys weep
For those you can't replace?
In silent nights, the whispers tell
Of horror's grip, a living hell.

May the Almighty God bring solace, and justice
find its way,
To heal the wounds of Manipur, and bring a
brighter day.