Ascending through a tropic river pass
its forest growing teak and ironwood
where terraced paddy fields ripen like grass
and jungle smells of musky cedar wood.

A check point near Patkai forces a pause,
a landslide farther on extends our stay.
The downstream traffic runs before our cars
are motioned to continue on the way.

The landslip takes us off the asphalt road
and up a steep and muddy jungle track
one lorry slipping, tips then sheds its load
another jam; a stall that holds us back.

At last Kohima town comes into view
a wedding beckons from the tall bamboo.

A damp Kohima wakes: a wet sunrise
the drizzle falls: the monsoon’s end is grey:
our wedding day is blessed with gloomy skies
but marriage hopes have blown my clouds away.

Nearby a gift, a mithum grazes grass
and chews with ruminating bovine bliss.
The pots are bubbling to prepare a mass
of food for fifteen hundred; more or less.
 
My Naga best man sits with me in church:
while she in mekhela, her orchid bloom
walks down the aisle – we stand up from the bench –
as warriors precede her to her groom.

The moment comes to say that I love you
to breath the word “amedo” for “I do”