These verses from Fahmida Riaz’s poem Pehla Baab (the first chapter) have been translated by Tahira Naqvi. In this poem, Fahmida explores the various societal pressures including censorship due to which poets and dissenters often have to hold themselves back from expressing themselves. Though frustrated by the hurdles, she vows to ignore the naysayers and keep fighting the fight by using the power of pen. It goes without saying that much of it remains relevant even today.
“The First Chapter”
Today a metaphor has died inside me just from weariness
The words stand around in amazement
And rhyme has shrugged off my hand and departed
The earth has become barren
And meter … it has fallen on its face
Where along the way
Did my melody get lost?
Will you too …
My poetry, will you too?
Turn away from me? Avoid me?
Will you also present in engraved bowls of counsel
A well-balanced diet of shamelessness and rape?
Like my well-wishers my sympathizers
Who in this blistering afternoon
Are resting comfortably in their cool rooms
Who have wearied of the drama of this long and monotonous struggle,
And now want to drop the curtain …
They say
“The body is a guest chamber
After twenty years, twenty-five years
Someone comes to reside here
To take on the accounting of loss and profit
And cancels every sale that incurs loss”
Doubtless they may be right
But alas, helplessness!
My previous soul has taken over my body
I cannot kick her out
She fastens herself to my pores
Wrangles with me
Shakes me up and throws me to the ground
Until I laugh and give up
And I say in a tearful voice
“All right, you win, you wretch …”
My soul is unbending, how can you fit her into a crooked mold
I cannot twist her around
She keeps me faltering forward, alert
Pushing my body on the merciless avenues
Like a nail in a broken shoe
She talks to the soles of my feet
On the wide avenue of the city
In front of the grand American Embassy
Where there is the shade of rows of trees
She makes me walk in the blistering heat between them
I keep walking , carrying the weight of my fracture
Dashing my head against the walls of my era
I keep walking drenched in my own sweat
Walking in the sun I make a pledge to myself
I will write an epic poem
Booming with the beating of the hooves of martial riders
Thundering with the force of violent storms
Thrashing about whips of lightening
Containing the jingling of bloody swords
Raining flames and fire
My pen will sing it
And the poem
Colored with the angry blood of my thousand rebirths
Turning into the Red, red flag
Will wave in the air far, far on the roads
My epic poem will turn into a thousand bombs and explode
Its debris will spread all over the earth
There will be dust blowing everywhere
The stones in the tall arrogant buildings will fall in prostration
And in those tall many-storied structures
Bedecked on foam cushions these straw puppets
Will be buried in the dust forever
Even their shreds will not be found
And they are shreds even now
Tied to chairs
Every morning a hand grows out of the wall
Polishes to a shine their chairs
And then ties them back again
So that they may keep slithering and hissing all day
Right on your face
Their filthy and tiny selves
Deviously enter into your desiccated throat
To stifle you
Slithering … Slithering !
Until you go mad
They crawl over your body
Like red ants
Croaking like frogs
They leap and dive in
Conversing in some non-human speech
It is some non-human matter
That they impart to me again and again
How can I believe it?
I cannot even understand it!
I keep going
Chewing my intentions between my teeth
Drawing together my dispersed being
Which is warped and bent again and again
To turn into a knot on my forehead
I had left in the early hours of dawn
And now
The day is about to end
Look … I did not stop anywhere to catch my breath
I did not sit in the shelter of compromise
When I miss a step, I stagger
I repeat my pledge
The promise to write a song about gunpowder
But …
My friend,
I do get tired!
Does hearing me say this disappoint you
No, no, my companion
Let me speak truthfully
Don’t let me conceal anything
Everything … the whole truth
Don’t be afraid, the whole truth is not ugly
Whatever is misshapen in it
Is like the blemish on the moon
Will you not gaze at the full moon?
Have you ever seen the face of fear?
… Perhaps no one has ever seen it
His face is always covered in white bandages
And there are always mysterious directives in his hands
And when these are carried out …
It’s like a frightening dream
Disconnected and vague
He can never be seen
When the moment of contest is a reality
And you clench your teeth and wrestle with this moment
Sucking in every single drop of your rage
Fix your gaze on the eyes of the ghastly moment
And spit on his face
Filling your mouth with the contempt of a thousand rebirths
At that time … he hides behind the door
This is much later
Long after the police investigation
Some single moment of rest
A minute of peace
Then on tiptoe he sneaks out from his hiding place
Before the eyes drowsy from fatigue
Suddenly shuddering
He places an icy hand upon your breast
And your heart jumps into your throat
Just a sudden footfall
And the brain became the scream of a siren
Police!
And …
After this …
Every knock on the door
The sound of every step on the stairs
Every footfall on the street
Conveys just one thought to the throbbing head
Police … Police … Police!
This is called tyranny
You are fortunate if you understood the symbols
These pills, the tranquilizers, are useful
To rid you of dread!
But what is this?
Your restless limbs
Had not yet absorbed
The kindness of the doctors
When suddenly one day
“Thak Thak Thak!”
And at the door
Is dread again wearing the despicable uniform of reality
Let it be Doctor sahib
What can pills really do!
The cure for this disease
Is not in these pills
Have you ever sat at a table
And had tea with an official informer?
When he also knows
That you know
That which you can’t speak of
And which he can hear
Then what’s with these cups of tea?
Is it a chunk of ice
That has to be swallowed
Continue a conversation flippantly
And he poor fellow, driven by necessity
He too is laughing in embarrassment
He appears more disturbed than you
Perhaps he is not that well-trained!
O God, for the training of informing
On honor and disgrace
How much time is required?
One year, one day?
Or one moment, weakened by pressure?
Was it not possible
That you would not have recognized him?
Would that not have been much better?
But now, laughing pretentiously
Blinking his sad eyes
He keeps talking, keeps talking
Until your restlessness
Would be immobilized by weariness
And you would start weeping
And your hands would tremble
Ill-fated! Ill-fated!
But then on the way home
At every street corner
At every crossing
You don’t turn to look back
To see if anyone is pursuing you
If anyone is keeping an eye on you
A medicine for relief of bodily pain?
More pills?
All right, my friend
But it will not be possible to repeat again and again
The mistake of thinking it is dread
Why do we lower our eyes
Whenever your roaring truck filled with khaki uniforms
Crosses our path
Why do our gazes sink into the earth?
O Earth, give us an answer
We have looked at you through the screen of tears
The truck filled with khaki uniforms is passing
Honking the horn of satisfaction
In one heart …
In a defenseless heart
A madness is awakening
An expectant stone lying on the ground is seen
Should someone pick it up?
Hurl it really hard at the uniform-filled truck?
Perhaps, in them
Inside some shirt
There might be a heart
In which a tinkle will echo
In one heart
In a thousand hearts
In numerous hearts
Beating in a million hearts
Stuck in the windpipes
But still alone
Helpless! Helpless!
No, there’s no heart inside this truck
There are only guns in it
And their bullets strike hearts
The sounds are not heard
For these have been fired to kill the sounds
A lone, defenseless desire is stirring
And is on its last breath
Until this truck passes
You will have to walk like this
Dragging your gaze on the ground
Why do people go mad
While they are explaining this to us
It does not pass with a “zun”
It does not disappear from your sight
It moves slowly without a care
Taunting those who walk nearby
Passersby helplessly move out of the way
The public that is dressed in auctioned garments!
Helpless, defenseless, and hence lowly
Why, what else can it do!
At the paan-beeri shop
Hangs a thread-like burning string
The coughing, wheezing sickly old man
Has lit his cigarette with the tip of the string
And turning, he spits
The Earth
Protector of her children’s secrets
Earth, dear mother
Breaks into a smile, laughs
Through the screen of tears I saw this laugh
Mother!
You understand every gesture of your mute child
You smile
So here,
My tears have also turned into a smile
Because in my country
Yesterday a ban had been placed on weeping openly
But today it is forbidden also to laugh openly
And we …
Who cannot cry and cannot laugh
And can only see you
You who are our confidante
O you Earth of my land!
---
“The First Chapter”
Today a metaphor has died inside me just from weariness
The words stand around in amazement
And rhyme has shrugged off my hand and departed
The earth has become barren
And meter … it has fallen on its face
Where along the way
Did my melody get lost?
Will you too …
My poetry, will you too?
Turn away from me? Avoid me?
Will you also present in engraved bowls of counsel
A well-balanced diet of shamelessness and rape?
Like my well-wishers my sympathizers
Who in this blistering afternoon
Are resting comfortably in their cool rooms
Who have wearied of the drama of this long and monotonous struggle,
And now want to drop the curtain …
They say
“The body is a guest chamber
After twenty years, twenty-five years
Someone comes to reside here
To take on the accounting of loss and profit
And cancels every sale that incurs loss”
Doubtless they may be right
But alas, helplessness!
My previous soul has taken over my body
I cannot kick her out
She fastens herself to my pores
Wrangles with me
Shakes me up and throws me to the ground
Until I laugh and give up
And I say in a tearful voice
“All right, you win, you wretch …”
My soul is unbending, how can you fit her into a crooked mold
I cannot twist her around
She keeps me faltering forward, alert
Pushing my body on the merciless avenues
Like a nail in a broken shoe
She talks to the soles of my feet
On the wide avenue of the city
In front of the grand American Embassy
Where there is the shade of rows of trees
She makes me walk in the blistering heat between them
I keep walking , carrying the weight of my fracture
Dashing my head against the walls of my era
I keep walking drenched in my own sweat
Walking in the sun I make a pledge to myself
I will write an epic poem
Booming with the beating of the hooves of martial riders
Thundering with the force of violent storms
Thrashing about whips of lightening
Containing the jingling of bloody swords
Raining flames and fire
My pen will sing it
And the poem
Colored with the angry blood of my thousand rebirths
Turning into the Red, red flag
Will wave in the air far, far on the roads
My epic poem will turn into a thousand bombs and explode
Its debris will spread all over the earth
There will be dust blowing everywhere
The stones in the tall arrogant buildings will fall in prostration
And in those tall many-storied structures
Bedecked on foam cushions these straw puppets
Will be buried in the dust forever
Even their shreds will not be found
And they are shreds even now
Tied to chairs
Every morning a hand grows out of the wall
Polishes to a shine their chairs
And then ties them back again
So that they may keep slithering and hissing all day
Right on your face
Their filthy and tiny selves
Deviously enter into your desiccated throat
To stifle you
Slithering … Slithering !
Until you go mad
They crawl over your body
Like red ants
Croaking like frogs
They leap and dive in
Conversing in some non-human speech
It is some non-human matter
That they impart to me again and again
How can I believe it?
I cannot even understand it!
I keep going
Chewing my intentions between my teeth
Drawing together my dispersed being
Which is warped and bent again and again
To turn into a knot on my forehead
I had left in the early hours of dawn
And now
The day is about to end
Look … I did not stop anywhere to catch my breath
I did not sit in the shelter of compromise
When I miss a step, I stagger
I repeat my pledge
The promise to write a song about gunpowder
But …
My friend,
I do get tired!
Does hearing me say this disappoint you
No, no, my companion
Let me speak truthfully
Don’t let me conceal anything
Everything … the whole truth
Don’t be afraid, the whole truth is not ugly
Whatever is misshapen in it
Is like the blemish on the moon
Will you not gaze at the full moon?
Have you ever seen the face of fear?
… Perhaps no one has ever seen it
His face is always covered in white bandages
And there are always mysterious directives in his hands
And when these are carried out …
It’s like a frightening dream
Disconnected and vague
He can never be seen
When the moment of contest is a reality
And you clench your teeth and wrestle with this moment
Sucking in every single drop of your rage
Fix your gaze on the eyes of the ghastly moment
And spit on his face
Filling your mouth with the contempt of a thousand rebirths
At that time … he hides behind the door
This is much later
Long after the police investigation
Some single moment of rest
A minute of peace
Then on tiptoe he sneaks out from his hiding place
Before the eyes drowsy from fatigue
Suddenly shuddering
He places an icy hand upon your breast
And your heart jumps into your throat
Just a sudden footfall
And the brain became the scream of a siren
Police!
And …
After this …
Every knock on the door
The sound of every step on the stairs
Every footfall on the street
Conveys just one thought to the throbbing head
Police … Police … Police!
This is called tyranny
You are fortunate if you understood the symbols
These pills, the tranquilizers, are useful
To rid you of dread!
But what is this?
Your restless limbs
Had not yet absorbed
The kindness of the doctors
When suddenly one day
“Thak Thak Thak!”
And at the door
Is dread again wearing the despicable uniform of reality
Let it be Doctor sahib
What can pills really do!
The cure for this disease
Is not in these pills
Have you ever sat at a table
And had tea with an official informer?
When he also knows
That you know
That which you can’t speak of
And which he can hear
Then what’s with these cups of tea?
Is it a chunk of ice
That has to be swallowed
Continue a conversation flippantly
And he poor fellow, driven by necessity
He too is laughing in embarrassment
He appears more disturbed than you
Perhaps he is not that well-trained!
O God, for the training of informing
On honor and disgrace
How much time is required?
One year, one day?
Or one moment, weakened by pressure?
Was it not possible
That you would not have recognized him?
Would that not have been much better?
But now, laughing pretentiously
Blinking his sad eyes
He keeps talking, keeps talking
Until your restlessness
Would be immobilized by weariness
And you would start weeping
And your hands would tremble
Ill-fated! Ill-fated!
But then on the way home
At every street corner
At every crossing
You don’t turn to look back
To see if anyone is pursuing you
If anyone is keeping an eye on you
A medicine for relief of bodily pain?
More pills?
All right, my friend
But it will not be possible to repeat again and again
The mistake of thinking it is dread
Why do we lower our eyes
Whenever your roaring truck filled with khaki uniforms
Crosses our path
Why do our gazes sink into the earth?
O Earth, give us an answer
We have looked at you through the screen of tears
The truck filled with khaki uniforms is passing
Honking the horn of satisfaction
In one heart …
In a defenseless heart
A madness is awakening
An expectant stone lying on the ground is seen
Should someone pick it up?
Hurl it really hard at the uniform-filled truck?
Perhaps, in them
Inside some shirt
There might be a heart
In which a tinkle will echo
In one heart
In a thousand hearts
In numerous hearts
Beating in a million hearts
Stuck in the windpipes
But still alone
Helpless! Helpless!
No, there’s no heart inside this truck
There are only guns in it
And their bullets strike hearts
The sounds are not heard
For these have been fired to kill the sounds
A lone, defenseless desire is stirring
And is on its last breath
Until this truck passes
You will have to walk like this
Dragging your gaze on the ground
Why do people go mad
While they are explaining this to us
It does not pass with a “zun”
It does not disappear from your sight
It moves slowly without a care
Taunting those who walk nearby
Passersby helplessly move out of the way
The public that is dressed in auctioned garments!
Helpless, defenseless, and hence lowly
Why, what else can it do!
At the paan-beeri shop
Hangs a thread-like burning string
The coughing, wheezing sickly old man
Has lit his cigarette with the tip of the string
And turning, he spits
The Earth
Protector of her children’s secrets
Earth, dear mother
Breaks into a smile, laughs
Through the screen of tears I saw this laugh
Mother!
You understand every gesture of your mute child
You smile
So here,
My tears have also turned into a smile
Because in my country
Yesterday a ban had been placed on weeping openly
But today it is forbidden also to laugh openly
And we …
Who cannot cry and cannot laugh
And can only see you
You who are our confidante
O you Earth of my land!
---