Issue: Vol. V, No. 1, May-July, 2026
Once the sky was blue
The pages of the book
Glow with
The sky azure,
She looks above and feels confused;
The sky is blurred
To the farthest end of her vision,
Where has the blue quietly disappeared?
She pesters her mother
With questions
And comes to know
The sky was once blue.
The smoke from the chimneys
Spreads the sky,
The satellites whiz around,
The cannons roar
And the azure fades away.
Mother says—
The azure still adorns
The sky in the village,
The stream murmurs
The river embraces the sky
And flows towards the sea.
The flowers stop blossoming,
The cries of the trees,
The weeping of the birds
Mingle
And descend on the earth,
The sky sheds
Fiery tears.
The rivers dry up,
The hills lose their pride.
The wind stops howling
The nahar ceases to bloom,
To herald the Spring.
The kopou stops sprouting
To titilate the bohag
The tagar ceases to bloom
The kuli loses its rhythm.
A section of people
Plays a double game,
And scoffs at the future
In a wild frenzy.
The dear planet gets alarmed
The pages of the book
Will be engraved with the line
Once the.sky was blue.
May the sky descend this way
It goes back to the time
When we had little burden to carry on our back;
The happiness bloomed as flowers,
The flowers smiled
And glowed in the eyes.
The touch of the soil
Thrilled our feet,
And the grandma’s tales
Lulled us to sleep.
It was a golden time.
The water
On the roof
Turned into river,
The paper boat
Transformed into waves
And the banana leaf
Mutated into an umbrella,
Rojai hukum dise
Edin Sedim Bai
We carry the burden on our back,
The smile ceases to glow
In the eyes,
The legs become stiff
The tiny hearts tremble in fear,
Happiness eludes us.
The burden accumulates,
The digital world
Sprinkels happiness
Happiness increases,
Swells in the purses,
The virtual world
Floating in the air
Paves the way for happiness.
This happiness
Is illusory
The back bends with
A world of burden,
The eyes rove
For smile desperate.
The mind
Pines for solace
Under the bokul tree,
O sky! Will the swarms of herons
Come down flying?
There is fragrance of bokul
In the bouquet.
Translated by Nayanjyoti Hazarika
Dr. Meena Devi Baruah is a poet based in Doomdooma, Tinsukia. She has published two collections of poems.
Nayan Jyoti Hazarika is an Associate Professor, Department of English, Duliajan College, Assam.