Keepers of Kangleipak

Dr Ranbir Laishram
Once, we lived in ease—
in comfort, in abundance,
unaware of the weight of self-duty.

The joint hearths glowed with warmth,
the village hands held us steady.
Harmony was not gifted,
it was woven—
through patient years,
through wise rulers
and the sweat of generations.

In that emerald valley, land-locked yet endless,
nine guardian hills circled us—
a fortress of green,
an ocean of evergreen breath.
We endured, we rejoiced,
we thrived beneath their gaze.

But where do we stand now?
Shadows of the medieval ache
stir again in our hearts.
The fabric once braided strong
is pulled by many hands,
each thread strained by doubt,
by divisions, by forgotten kinship.

Will the cloth hold?
Will Kangleipak shine once more
with the old light,
the timeless name?
The answer is ours to give.
We are keepers of the dream,
guardians of the goal.
If we stand as one,
if we remember the root and the river,
then the valley will rise again—
green, unbroken, eternal.