An Animal’s Lament

TRANSLATION NOTE

This is a poetic rendition of the Manipuri song Eikhoishibu Saa Ngara (transliterated as Are We Animals?) by the band Eastern Dark. The song serves as a poignant political lament that challenges divine justice and highlights the silence of gods amidst violence, loss, and the historical trauma experienced in Manipur. It intricately combines spiritual irony, historical allusions, and indigenous deities to express the suffering of a people. This adaptation remains true to the essence of the original while embracing a more lyrical style to enhance its poetic and emotional resonance for a broader audience.

O maker of stars, of sky and sod,

Shall I call you God? Or simply nod?
Is Allah your name, or one of disguise?
Or just another mask behind the skies?
But I confess, I’m not impressed,
Your silence leaves my soul distressed.

They cry, they chant, they kneel and pray,
Your faithful lost in disarray.
You, who claim to see it all,
Why let the innocent bleed and fall?

When blood ran red and would not cease,
When fire consumed our scrolls of peace,
When Thangal gasped his final breath,
And Tikendrajit marched to silent death,
When Bijoykumars were torn from light,
And Netaji vanished from the night,
When Torei Kanjaobi died,
And Langjing drowned with Patsoi beside,
Where were you, O Lord of Lore,
When were we dying by the score?

When Heirangoi bridge was torn apart,
When RMC was stripped of heart,
When wildfires danced upon the hills,
And floods came rushing, fierce and still,
When Kangla's gates were breached by the Avas,
When war drums echoed through our sagas,
When Churanthaba shed his age,
And mourning swept across the stage,
Where were you, O Ancient One,
When cries replaced the morning sun?

O Gopala, child so fair,
Fed by Radha’s loving care,
Have you gone deaf? Have you gone blind?
Has madness overtaken mind?

And you, the God of desert sand,
Now bowed to by the western land,
Have you no ear for this lost soil,
No memory of its sacred toil?

Are we mere beasts, to bear this fate,
Forgotten in your grand estate?
It drives me mad, this holy game,
This silence dressed in holy name.

Then let us be your hollow choir,
While you dance on in Vrindavan’s fire.
Let this land be cursed and dry,
Forsaken beneath your distant sky.

To gods who ruled our hills and seas,
Are they now ghosts on bending knees?

O Koubru, Nongmaijing’s pride,
Is Baruni taller, wild and wide?
O Mongba, force of fearless hand,
Is Hanuman grander in hand?

Ema Ereima, mother flame,
Is some new god more worth your name?
O Thangjing, Wangbren, old and wise,
Has Govinda stolen all your skies?