Finding the Way | Mamang Dai

We ate the words. We were hungry.

We ate the words.

 

In the cave of our ancestors

we drank the wine of ritual,

sprinkled blood on the ground.

Who knows if it rained or snowed –

entangled in a myth

finding the way was hard

when we swallowed the sunrise and the sunset.

 

All the words were eaten.

What were the words, what was written?

 

In a dream the great hunter made a speech.

Come, he said, let us leave this torment of darkness

water and mist.

and sing for the river flowing east.

Undying on the wild way we followed

carrying the wind and waters,

the flying sky.

and the stag on the horizon

dancing amongst the stars.

 

Tomorrow –

would we reach tomorrow?

 

From the cave of our ancestors

the void continues to fill.

The letters to earth and sky

written in the outline of the hills

a sun seed in the backbone,

the tenacity of grass;

root strength

and the fragrance of fleeting things,

the purpose of growing corn

and living mud

feeding breath with fire and bones

in the silence of our hills, the fury of our skies.

 

Dai is a poet and novelist from Pasighat, Arunachal Pradesh. A former journalist, Dai also worked with World Wide Fund for nature in the Eastern Himalaya Biodiversity Hotspots programme.
In 2003 she received the state Verrier Elwin Award for her book Arunachal Pradesh- the hidden land featuring the culture, folklore and customs of Arunachal’s different communities. A Padma Shri awardee, Dai is a recipient of the Sahitya Akademi Award 2017, for her novel The Black Hill, in English.
Dai lives in Itanagar, Arunachal Pradesh, India.

Published in Divining Dante, Recent Works Press, Canberra 2021.