Banjhakri

 In the depths of forests where they dance, 

Where mystic whispers weave a trance, 

There dwells a duo, ancient and wild, 

Banjhakri and Banjhakrini, untamed and beguiled.

Banjhakri, the trickster with ears so large, 

A forested shaman, an enigmatic charge, 

Sun's descendant, with matted hair and golden drum, 

Guiding chosen ones where the spirits hum.

Banjhakrini, ursine and humanoid in her form, 

Bloodthirsty yet nurturing, in the forest storm, 

Long hair cascades, backward feet leave prints unseen, 

In her embrace, a shaman's fate begins, serene.

Legends tell of their abductions, both feared and revered, 

Children chosen, into their realm steered, 

In caverns deep, where initiation breathes, 

Shamanic secrets whisper through ancient leaves.

They walk between worlds, seen by the chosen few, 

Guardians of nature, their presence true, In Darjeeling hills and Sikkim's terrace, 

Their essence lingers, mystic and grace.

Banjhakri and Banjhakrini, spirits wise, 

Teaching wisdom from the time rise, 

In forests deep, where they roam free, 

They shape destiny with shamanic decree.

So listen closely to the forest's call, 

Where Banjhakri's drum beats, summoning all, 

And Banjhakrini's gaze, fierce yet kind, 

Guides the chosen to realms undefined.

In the heart of nature, Banjhakri reside, 

And Banjhakrini on his side, 

Shamans, guardians of the forests, 

Trains teaches the little guests.

Sorah Shraddh

 In the golden light of Bhadra's morn, 

Where whispers of ancestors are reborn, 

We gather by rivers, calm and wide, 

To observe Sorah Shradh in the open tide.

Sixteenth day, a solemn rite, 

Underneath the sun's gentle light, 

We offer prayers with reverence deep, 

For those in the family in eternal sleep.

Rice and lentils, offerings made, 

To honour ancestors' guiding shade,

Their blessings sought, with holy spirits near, 

In this sacred time of the year.

With folded hands and voices clear, 

Mantras echo for all to hear, 

Each gesture, each hymn, a heartfelt plea, 

For grace and blessings, pure and free.

Sorah Sradha, a sacred start, 

To Dashain's joy, where spirits impart, 

Strength and love from ages past, 

This lovely bond forever last.

In the golden light of Bhadra's morn, 

Where whispers of ancestors are reborn, 

Sorah Sradha's connect we stand, 

Guided by their eternal hand.

Langsimbruid

 In Jaintia's hills' ringing of morning bell,

Amidst green slopes where legends dwell, 

A sport of strength, of bulls untamed, 

Langsimbruid, where honour claimed.

In winter mornings, drums resound, 

As villagers gather all around, 

With hearts that beat in rhythmic cheer, 

To witness bulls with courage sheer.

Amidst the fields, the bulls engage, 

In ancient ritual, proud on stage, 

Hooves thunder, mighty horns clash, 

Langsimbruid shows the energetic flash.

From distant valleys, tribes convene, 

In Langsimbruid, a sacred scene, 

Where lineage and pride shine, 

In battles fierce, holding the chilling spine.

For each stride marks a tale untold, 

Of courage, valor, legends bold, 

In Jaintia's hills, this sport endures, 

Langsimbruid, where tradition secures.

So raise the banner, let the drums beat, 

In Langsimbruid, where clans compete, 

For honour, glory, and ancestral pride, 

In timeless bonds that never subside.

Sakewa

 With ‘doko’ and ‘namlo’ a culture deep, 

Kirati life, not so cheap. 

Grounded in nature, with hearts clear, 

Sakewa's rhythm, a festive to cheer

Ubhauli's promise, a fertile land

Sowing done with dexterous hand. 

In walk up the hill, a melody heard, 

Of a beautiful golden robin bird.

Udhauli's gives a plenty  harvest, 

Yuma’s blessings and his grace. 

A kirati stand solid and tall. 

They stand proud and never fall

From their culture and rural life creed,

The most lovely people of Himalayan breed.

              ~Krishna Acharya