Today I felt so dead
That I could do nothing
I thought
I might as well
Try
To coax the feeling into words
Words and words and more words
Words like a blanket
To seek comfort in
To give up on the day
To admit defeat
At least for the present
The present as defined by
This moment
This chained series of hours
Until the deadness fades once again
To unleash another round of anger
Anger and agony
Helpless anger, constructive anger, creative anger
Like creative deadness?
For the crack of the whip
Is not just being heard now
Now, this time
The lash of the whip is being felt
During these long, long days
As it was intended to
Article 370
Its revocation, its repeal, its abrogation
Its –
‘Reorganisation’
But who even has been thinking of its merits and demerits
Of various administrative aspects
Let us not insult the decision-makers
They are straightforward folk
No, no, the purpose is quite clear
Clear as those smiles of sly, unspoken triumph
On lips which present careful ‘analysis’
The purpose was to give pain
To grab your heart and squeeze
Until your hands flail, your limbs quiver, and you’re ready to beg
Beg the world, beg them
Beg anyone and everyone
The purpose
Was to stretch you taut like a kite-string
Until you snap
Mentally, physically
A neatly executed piece of theatre
All eyes trained to the stage
The suspense, the curtain, the lights dimming and flickering
The gasps, the screams, the illusion of gasps and screams
Such a minimalist stage set
Why set things on fire
When you can create an illusion of flame and fire
Flame and fire, light and shadows, sparks and sounds, and silence
Bloodcurdling sounds, bloodcurdling silence
The taste of water is the taste of fear
The taste of bread is the taste of fear
Long, drawn-out fear
And then deadness
We who thought to look away
Out of civility, out of courtesy
Out of a desire not to look like those who do not self-reflect
“It’s a phase,” we hoped
A painful phase that comes over nations sometimes
But then they elected him again
By an even bigger margin
And we had nothing left to say
We were embarrassed for them
And for ourselves
No longer could we make the polite argument that it was done because
Of some possible hope and belief in development
It was a vote for hate
A vote for the promise to cause hurt
To show someone their place
Teach someone a lesson they will never forget
This wife who dared to break away
And make a public statement that she can live without me
She must be taught that she is but a woman
That it is mywill that will still prevail
She may leave, but I have hostages
I will make it hard for her to look away
Even though she experiments with amnesia
In her desire to forget and move on
When the lynchings began
We looked, we winced
But then we wished them the best in overcoming this ‘phase’
We are no stranger to the unreasoning frenzy of the crowds
But it started happening absurdly often
We tried not to fixate on it
For the sake of our own health
These lynched ones are mostly very poor people, we said
Everywhere in the world, the poor bear the brunt of discrimination and violence
May their society’s progress and development bring them tolerance and security
We tried to look away, as much as we could
What’s the use, we said, of staring agog?
Are we getting pleasure from seeing how our coreligionists are suffering?
From being ‘proven correct’?
There is enough hysteria in this world
Our anger can help no one, it can only make matters worse
We must just wait it out
We must try to look away and focus on the things we can help improve inside our own house
When the films, when the television, when the news all filled with hate for us
Sometimes outright hatred
Other times hatred disguised as love and peace and understanding
It was as if they were rapidly forgetting us
Us, who had become part of their own aesthetic DNA
Us, who many of their ancestors had understood so much better
They were forgetting us and replacing us with a horrendous image
And expecting us to purchase it, to not be unhappy with it
We shook our head in despair and bafflement
Wishing that they would treat us as invisible, as non-existent
Wishing they would not prod in such uncivil ways into the affairs of another religious community
If our thoughts and existence were so abhorrent to them
We wished that they would erase us from their discourse, render us invisible
Render us invisible, rather than render themselves crazed and manic over us
We asked and explained, but to little avail
It was difficult to even get the gifted and aware to understand what it is that they were tacitly doing
So, we gave up and decided to try and look away
To leave them to their own devices
And seek pleasure in embellishing our own universe
Because, thanks be to God, we at least had the option to do so
But now, as if in revenge for our temerity in trying to hide
They have ordered matters thus
That we cannot look away
The world can look away, but we cannot look away
From this colossal drama unfolding before our arrested gaze
This war of attrition
Of shadowy deeds committed unconfirmed
Water dripping on stone, drop by drop
Eating away at our imagination, our strength, our endurance
It’s all just unconfirmed rumours
We don’t really know that they’ve done anything – new
But they have preyed on our fears
So. Very. Artistically
In a way the world has never before seen
Hats off to them
It doesn’t matter what comes now
Their purpose was clear
In light of that purpose, their move has been a success
Its purpose has been fulfilled
Beyond their crudest imaginings
It would have been nice to be able to cry
But our tears are frozen
Our tears are frozen
We who had thought we had seen everything by now
Wars, bombs, ambushes, mutilations
Yet this
What we are seeing here and now, shocked and disbelieving
“It took us by surprise”, the civilised among them say
Like an unexpected guest who had not called before arriving with flowers and a cake
Like an underrated bowler who suddenly took six wickets
“It should have been discussed beforehand”
This, what we are seeing
Tense and waiting, unable to glance away
Is something not yet featured in our impressive portfolio of ‘resilience’
Right now, we each have two pairs of eyes
One that observes the roads we walk, the cities where we live
And another that watches and waits for news
It is odd to discover we are capable of motion
Of dressing, of eating, of offering greetings
Our face has two simultaneous lives
One of stillness, one of smiles
Our distractions are all fruitful and futile
We who have mourned the dead, masses of dead
How do we mourn the living?
It would have been nice to be able to cry
Our tears are frozen
In rebellion against the normalcy of our outward day
In submission to the silence of our inner night
We stretch out a hand before us to gently stroke
The misty vision of a different future for this new generation
The vision flows through our fingers, escaping us
Vanishing as if it had never been
The globe revolves, completing the cycle of day and night
It completes its journey around the sun, marking the change from year to year
But certain things remain the same
The fate of one generation cannot differ from the next, it seems
Except to become worse
With the anguish being recorded as never before
Images and voices being beamed out miles away
Bringing sharp pain to some and pleasure to others
[shab raft o sahar na-shud, shab aamad]
Night passed, and morning did not arrive; night arrived
Allow me to retreat
Into an unworld I can bear
Kashmir just means cashmere
A mythical land that gave name to a kind of wool
It was never a place
Never had people
It was all just imagination
It only lived in people’s minds
People are foolish
I know better
I live in a world of poetry
And unreal things
That enclose in a haze
Like lissom coils of smoke unfurling before my eyes
Enfolding me inside the blanket
- Aug 17, 2019
Zahra Sabri is a doctoral student in Indo-Muslim history and Literatures at McGill University, Canada. She is a literary translator and has translated folk and classical poetry from various South Asian languages. She has also worked as a journalist and taught History and Literature at several universities in Karachi.
That I could do nothing
I thought
I might as well
Try
To coax the feeling into words
Words and words and more words
Words like a blanket
To seek comfort in
To give up on the day
To admit defeat
At least for the present
The present as defined by
This moment
This chained series of hours
Until the deadness fades once again
To unleash another round of anger
Anger and agony
Helpless anger, constructive anger, creative anger
Like creative deadness?
For the crack of the whip
Is not just being heard now
Now, this time
The lash of the whip is being felt
During these long, long days
As it was intended to
Article 370
Its revocation, its repeal, its abrogation
Its –
‘Reorganisation’
But who even has been thinking of its merits and demerits
Of various administrative aspects
Let us not insult the decision-makers
They are straightforward folk
No, no, the purpose is quite clear
Clear as those smiles of sly, unspoken triumph
On lips which present careful ‘analysis’
The purpose was to give pain
To grab your heart and squeeze
Until your hands flail, your limbs quiver, and you’re ready to beg
Beg the world, beg them
Beg anyone and everyone
The purpose
Was to stretch you taut like a kite-string
Until you snap
Mentally, physically
A neatly executed piece of theatre
All eyes trained to the stage
The suspense, the curtain, the lights dimming and flickering
The gasps, the screams, the illusion of gasps and screams
Such a minimalist stage set
Why set things on fire
When you can create an illusion of flame and fire
Flame and fire, light and shadows, sparks and sounds, and silence
Bloodcurdling sounds, bloodcurdling silence
The taste of water is the taste of fear
The taste of bread is the taste of fear
Long, drawn-out fear
And then deadness
We who thought to look away
Out of civility, out of courtesy
Out of a desire not to look like those who do not self-reflect
“It’s a phase,” we hoped
A painful phase that comes over nations sometimes
But then they elected him again
By an even bigger margin
And we had nothing left to say
We were embarrassed for them
And for ourselves
No longer could we make the polite argument that it was done because
Of some possible hope and belief in development
It was a vote for hate
A vote for the promise to cause hurt
To show someone their place
Teach someone a lesson they will never forget
This wife who dared to break away
And make a public statement that she can live without me
She must be taught that she is but a woman
That it is mywill that will still prevail
She may leave, but I have hostages
I will make it hard for her to look away
Even though she experiments with amnesia
In her desire to forget and move on
When the lynchings began
We looked, we winced
But then we wished them the best in overcoming this ‘phase’
We are no stranger to the unreasoning frenzy of the crowds
But it started happening absurdly often
We tried not to fixate on it
For the sake of our own health
These lynched ones are mostly very poor people, we said
Everywhere in the world, the poor bear the brunt of discrimination and violence
May their society’s progress and development bring them tolerance and security
We tried to look away, as much as we could
What’s the use, we said, of staring agog?
Are we getting pleasure from seeing how our coreligionists are suffering?
From being ‘proven correct’?
There is enough hysteria in this world
Our anger can help no one, it can only make matters worse
We must just wait it out
We must try to look away and focus on the things we can help improve inside our own house
When the films, when the television, when the news all filled with hate for us
Sometimes outright hatred
Other times hatred disguised as love and peace and understanding
It was as if they were rapidly forgetting us
Us, who had become part of their own aesthetic DNA
Us, who many of their ancestors had understood so much better
They were forgetting us and replacing us with a horrendous image
And expecting us to purchase it, to not be unhappy with it
We shook our head in despair and bafflement
Wishing that they would treat us as invisible, as non-existent
Wishing they would not prod in such uncivil ways into the affairs of another religious community
If our thoughts and existence were so abhorrent to them
We wished that they would erase us from their discourse, render us invisible
Render us invisible, rather than render themselves crazed and manic over us
We asked and explained, but to little avail
It was difficult to even get the gifted and aware to understand what it is that they were tacitly doing
So, we gave up and decided to try and look away
To leave them to their own devices
And seek pleasure in embellishing our own universe
Because, thanks be to God, we at least had the option to do so
But now, as if in revenge for our temerity in trying to hide
They have ordered matters thus
That we cannot look away
The world can look away, but we cannot look away
From this colossal drama unfolding before our arrested gaze
This war of attrition
Of shadowy deeds committed unconfirmed
Water dripping on stone, drop by drop
Eating away at our imagination, our strength, our endurance
It’s all just unconfirmed rumours
We don’t really know that they’ve done anything – new
But they have preyed on our fears
So. Very. Artistically
In a way the world has never before seen
Hats off to them
It doesn’t matter what comes now
Their purpose was clear
In light of that purpose, their move has been a success
Its purpose has been fulfilled
Beyond their crudest imaginings
It would have been nice to be able to cry
But our tears are frozen
Our tears are frozen
We who had thought we had seen everything by now
Wars, bombs, ambushes, mutilations
Yet this
What we are seeing here and now, shocked and disbelieving
“It took us by surprise”, the civilised among them say
Like an unexpected guest who had not called before arriving with flowers and a cake
Like an underrated bowler who suddenly took six wickets
“It should have been discussed beforehand”
This, what we are seeing
Tense and waiting, unable to glance away
Is something not yet featured in our impressive portfolio of ‘resilience’
Right now, we each have two pairs of eyes
One that observes the roads we walk, the cities where we live
And another that watches and waits for news
It is odd to discover we are capable of motion
Of dressing, of eating, of offering greetings
Our face has two simultaneous lives
One of stillness, one of smiles
Our distractions are all fruitful and futile
We who have mourned the dead, masses of dead
How do we mourn the living?
It would have been nice to be able to cry
Our tears are frozen
In rebellion against the normalcy of our outward day
In submission to the silence of our inner night
We stretch out a hand before us to gently stroke
The misty vision of a different future for this new generation
The vision flows through our fingers, escaping us
Vanishing as if it had never been
The globe revolves, completing the cycle of day and night
It completes its journey around the sun, marking the change from year to year
But certain things remain the same
The fate of one generation cannot differ from the next, it seems
Except to become worse
With the anguish being recorded as never before
Images and voices being beamed out miles away
Bringing sharp pain to some and pleasure to others
[shab raft o sahar na-shud, shab aamad]
Night passed, and morning did not arrive; night arrived
Allow me to retreat
Into an unworld I can bear
Kashmir just means cashmere
A mythical land that gave name to a kind of wool
It was never a place
Never had people
It was all just imagination
It only lived in people’s minds
People are foolish
I know better
I live in a world of poetry
And unreal things
That enclose in a haze
Like lissom coils of smoke unfurling before my eyes
Enfolding me inside the blanket
- Aug 17, 2019
Zahra Sabri is a doctoral student in Indo-Muslim history and Literatures at McGill University, Canada. She is a literary translator and has translated folk and classical poetry from various South Asian languages. She has also worked as a journalist and taught History and Literature at several universities in Karachi.