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Best Poems Written by Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh

Below are the all-time best Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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On that Rainy Night

On that rainy night
Near her home,
At the distance,
A lone electric lamp shone; 
Raindrops dribbling ,seen
Flickering in its light.
She might have been sleeping then.
I was driving my car
In the rain 
towards my distant home
in the city.

Details | Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh Poem

A Strange Dream

Recently in my dream
a wild pigeon flew inside my house
landed on the corridor and
turning into a  baby
came toddling to me.
I lifted him,held  in my arms
and loitered here and there.
I asked , “Dear,
when will you turn again into a bird ? “
But before listening his reply
I woke up from  sleep.
It was five morning ,
chirping of the birds heard
three wild pigeons  walking
on the courtyard .
I have some fruit trees growing
at the backward and courtyard
of my house 
on which they usually perch.

Details | Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh Poem

The Difference

A kitten with a delicate face
tiny,bright,and playful
formed a bond with my little granddaughter .
She blossomed into adulthood
becoming a fair mother
within a short period of months
but died in an accident.
I wondered and felt pain,
'What a stark difference between our lives !'
Her life was short,
and we have a long journey to go.
But in that brief moment 
of our shared life , our souls
connected beyond time's divide.

Details | Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh Poem

Once I felt pain



My loving dog !
I once felt pain-
he stood beside me
with his usual glee,
wondering why fate
decreed he would
be born
as a hound
despite the abundant
divine qualities
within his faithful heart.

Details | Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh Poem

Fractured Landscape of Memory

I feel more incomplete
Now than before 
and my heart is a cartography
Of interrupted rhythms.
In the echoes of ancestral whispers
I stand fragmented,unfinished.
Lands that once cradled our songs
Now distant unreachable, 
My heart beating between
Bitter and sweet landscapes
Dreaming of retracing old paths
But my imagination incomplete.
My hearth's rhythm interrupted.

Details | Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh Poem

Romance Unexpressed

Romantic love unexpressed,
A silent strife,
Held close throughout
A guarded life,
It holds a beauty,
Soft,and deep,
A special charm,
Secrets keep.

Details | Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh Poem

That Banyan Tree

The  village  where  my  father was  born.
After  many  years
Still  has not   changed
Except  that    electricity   has arrived  ,
The  road  blacktopped  has deteriorated,
And  thatched-roof  houses  are  hardly  seen.
Yet  what  I wonder  is
As  I saw in my  childhood  long  ago,
The  village  road  today   is still  lonesome,
Cactus  and  wild  bush  plants ,in  that  quietness 
Are still  growing  here  and  there  by  the  roadside.
And  the sprawling  paddy  fields  are  as  calm
And  beautiful  as  they were seen  from  the  road  long  ago.
The  aged  banyan  tree  standing  in  the  meadow
At the roadside  is  still  in  its  grandeur.
Under  it, I saw my grandfather cremated,
Consigned  to  flames
When I was a boy of about 10 years old.

My  grandfather  during  his  youthful  days
Sometimes  might have  been resting 
Under  that  banyan  tree
Tired  of  wayfaring  or working  in  the  paddy  field.
Sometimes  he  might  have been  waiting 
For  somebody  he  loved  beneath it
Wearing  kurta ,dhoti,and  clogs .

My  father  died  six  years  ago 
And  I  today  am  an  old  man
Yet  whenever  I  visited  the  village
And  see  the  lonely  old  banyan  tree
I  remember  the  days   I spent  there during  my  childhood
Particularly  the  day  my  grandfather  died
And   cremated  beneath it.

The  old  peepal    tree ,
Growing  at  the  gate  of  my  residence
By  the  busy  road ,
Often  I  collect  its  fallen  leaves  with  a  broom
In  the  winter  mornings  and  burn  them.
Yet  never  ponder about  its  long  past.


12th August 2012

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A Traditional Housewife

The  woman married at a young age
to the eldest son of a farmer-
my maternal uncle and neighbor.

Usually, she woke up early at the crow's caw
and swept the dirt floor of the house with a broom
often wiping it with water and a nura ( wet cloth )
After that she took a bath, changed her clothes
and wiped with water the surface before the holy Basil(Tulsi)
in the middle of the courtyard
as well as the surfaces at the portico and inside the house
where the family Deities traditionally reside.
After these tasks, she prayed the Deities and holy Basil
while burning mekruk(,an incense).
The prayer was once again repeated at dusk
lighting a lantern or candle.

As a routine she grinding,hand-pounding 
and flapping paddy,(sometimes cutting firewood)
alone or with a sister- in -law,
cooking food( burning firewood) and serving the family members,
cleaning the kitchen and utensils after the food served.
After these she washed clothes for the family members.
And in the afternoon she wove clothes
at the fly scuttle loom in the outhouse.
Besides, she helped the neighbours in times of need.

She treated her father-in-law and mother-in-law with devotion,
regarded her husband's younger siblings
as if they were her own children.

Many children were born to her
but, she died prematurely at the age of seventy.

After her death I sometimes remember her
as one of the symbols of traditional housewives
of the old past .
.

Details | Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh Poem

No True Repeats In Life

One  calm evening
on a leisure  drive  with  my  wife
along  the Inphal-Dimapur
National Highway
I remembered 
my overnight  road journeys
to Guwahati for office work,
sometimes together with  her
before retirement a decade ago.
Tedious journeys
riding through the winding hilly roads
of Manipur and Nagaland
yet exciting the beautiful scenary.
Intermittent short stops,
taking tea and snack at short breaks,
riding through the busy marketplaces
in Dimapur and Assam.
Songs from Hindi films,
were heard inside the bus,
from the marketplaces
and in the hotels.
A longer stop at Jakhalaabandha
for all to take food and rest .
At last reaching Paltan Bazaar
in the morning
looking for a hotel. 
We decided then
once again to go to  Guwahati
when the covid pandemic is over
boarding a  night super
to recreate once our past journeys.
Back home ,our little grandson waiting
for us to play with me.
I remembered then,
as the days,months,and years gone
there will be no true repeats in life.

Details | Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh Poem

Faith, Pain ,and Relief

An elderly man I knew ,
( who had no issue) 
about fifty years ago
was well known  among the local
and neighbouring residents
for his  knowledge of the native pantheon,
evil spirits, and ghosts .

Often he conducted rituals
to ward off the ghosts and evil spirits
from the homes and
individuals possessed by them
and to cure people of the illnesses
primarily attributed to sacrilege.

One day, his wife fell ill;
yet, he did not call doctors,
but performed traditional rituals,,
sought guidance from the deities 
in his somber  dreams. 

Of no avail ,
she died after  prolonged illness.
But he did not grieve for long.
"What can we the humans  do 
if God already destined her fate ? “ 
he asked.

The old man lived a long life,
cared for by a close relative.
He never consulted a doctor
nor took pharmaceutical drugs,
as he did not have faith
in their  medical efficacy or sanctity.




(The poem dramatised under the title FAITH, PAIN( Latter rechristened as Thajabagi Cheina) by People's Arts and Dramatic Association ,and directed by Laishram Randhoni Devi was the Second Best play in the Creative Directors' Short Play Competition 2022 organised by THEATER CENTER under the aegis of SANGEET NATAK ACADEMY,NEW DELHI.In all the play won seven different awards.Among  the notable awards are Best,Director,Best Actor,Best Actress and Best Script  etc.)