The little girl, with eyes aglow, knew but one hero,
Her father, marching forth to realms unknown.
At dawn, he kissed her cheek, his resolve clear,
Leaving hearth and home for battles to bear.
To her mother, he was the sole beacon of light,
His absence a weight, heavy as the darkest night.
Yet, she stood tall, packing his bags with care,
Shielding their daughter from despair.
Each day, the child yearned for his return,
Dreaming of tales spun 'round the hearth's warm burn.
A toy, a laugh, a game, her heart's refrain,
Until her hero's embrace eased the pain.
And the woman, bound by love's enduring vow,
Waited, watched, her hope as vast as the prow.
For in his return lay solace, sweet and rare,
In his arms, she found her fortress fair.
Thingkho Le Malcha (TLM) is a traditional method of communication used to send out messages across the Kuki hills during the Anglo-Kuki War,1917-1919... more
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