Naga Hills, a place I call home,
So dear to my heart-
The land of my ancestors,
My origin, my roots.
Oh, the mountains!
So far yet so grand and majestic,
The river flows in every glen-
Binding hearts of every man and woman,
Oh, a feeling of oneness.
As I look at the radiant sun
shining upon my land,
It takes me back to that evening-
Oh, I remember spending time with my family,
Winter it was,
I remember the firewood’s sparkle, warm on our faces.
Oh, I remember that glance at my grandfather,
full of stories from his youth,
perhaps, a strong warrior in his time.
His stories,
full of life from his youth,
Their way of life,
The games they played,
The variety of clans and groups—
A world so different from today,
I cannot help but wonder.
I hear stories of brave men,
ready to risk everything for honour.
Such brave souls, legendary figures.
In times when love was declared boldly,
Women carried themselves with modest grace,
unaffected by the chaos of the outside world.
I hear stories about the great deeds of men,
warriors whose tales still linger.
Lost in my thoughts, I saw my grandfather,
His eyes as innocent as a child
Sharing his stories with a smile.
The room filled with pure emotion
of both contentment and sorrow,
Taking me back to those days.
Oh, as the glorious stories end,
I look into my brother’s eyes,
bright with such amazement.
Oh, I realize the gap in their generation.
A world so different,
Filled with science and technology.
So advanced, so comfortable, and convenient.
The world is in our tip,
yet, with no experience.
Men with no brave stories to pass down,
Slowly losing our culture,
our language, and who we are,
Oh, my heart feels heavy,
Will the stories be forgotten with time?
Naga Hills, the land of warriors, so-called,
Slowly losing its identity,
Oh, where has the beauty of our language gone?
That melancholic feeling
as I dive into the folktales and folk songs,
The pure days, like a clear mountain stream,
I smile with pride, knowing our ancestors once walked the same land.
A feeling of responsibility, to protect our culture and stories,
To pass them to the generations to come with pride and honour.
Pulotoli Aye
BA 3rd Semester
Dept. of Sociology