He must be shouting for his root,
He must be craving for his tribe,
He must be asking machem Khamnu,
Where he was born?
Where he belonged?
Mathura or Moirang?
I dream of pure love,
like that of khamba-thoibi,
the eternal sacrifice of two lovers,
I listen to Moirang-Parva,
To get a glimpse of their love story,
I cry for Khamnu
how she suffered
how she brought up Khamba,
I crave for the courage of Thoibi,
Who defied convention
and married Khamba,
The woman who defeated
the villain Nongban,
For her true love,
But it was a famous poet,
who got me into trouble,
Who made me lost again,
In another myth,
Quite far away from what I heard,
I remember my grandma telling me,
the story of Khamba-Thoibi,
I still think she was right,
I still am mesmerised
with the beauty of Thoibi,
But he the famous poet,
who wrote that myth,
taught me lately,
How Khamba met Krishna,
How they play the Ras Lila,
The reincarnation of Krishna as Khamba,
Krishna came to
Moirang,
Then I lost my way,
I see Radha
Playing Holi with Khamba
And Khamba flirting with Gopis,
I run after that myth,
connected to my root,
I question that history,
written as history only,
Still it can't answer,
Where Khamba belonged?
Where he met Krishna,
How he played the Ras Lila,
In front of Thanjing Mandap,
You have to come back
and answer me,
You have to re-write your book,
You have to re-sing the
Moirang-Parva,
I'm still waiting,
How you would explain,
Khamba playing holi with Radha,
and flirting with Gopis,
You have to reason,
Why Khamba was crying,
For the made-to-believe myth!!
- By
Chaoba Phuritshabam
