Those horns, sound, dirt of my town
Cannot replace the beauty of the shading
Trees, leafs, grasses of my village
Those byways, path and aisle of my village
Can never create belongingness for
The heavy, exhausting roads of my town
The weavers weaving her clothes
With her beautiful hues,
Reapers reaping all around the field
Humming her favourite tunes
The way to my home!
The same old spreading mango trees,
Where I seat and watch the moon
The field of my old tattered school
Memories of my childhood
Here, I’m back to home
Rejoicing every moment alone;
The toiling life of my city
Is left behind in the towns
Here, I’m home, mother!
To hear you ‘singing in paradise’
To taste your splendid ‘tenga maas’
And sleep in your lap forever!
*tenga maas- A traditional sour Assamese dish cooked with fish and tomato or other citric fruits/leaves.
