Saturday, January 27, 2007

martydom and memory

kya raha khaymo me sheh ke
ek udaasi reh gayi

this is a response
in defense

for history,
is the process of forgetting
what happened / when writers were not looking
who disappeared into the margins
where we came from / this herstory of borders and Orders
and here,
a time when our mere existence, on settler soil
was political

and yet each year
we beat we beat we beat we beat
yeh gham-e-hussain hai

and why (not)?
this martyrdom is lived through remembrance
brown skin, glisten
repeat, repeat, the rhythm
if sanitized is our matam
desensitized is our pain

aur, khaymo me
ek udaasi reh gayi

when skies wept blood
and heavens mourned
and surely, a time to come, when the earth
will reject nourishment
to those who plant and plunder in but a single stroke
yet do we know our role
and what has happened to this gham?

why we remember
is no longer why we fight

kya raha khaymo me sheh ke?

i grew up in a castle
that bore black cloth for 2 months a year
of humble origins, though not always minds
a castle made of cement walls
and veiled barriers
but one wherein, this ashra, sands would sweep through
stained red, these sands
the dust still fresh / the slicing air the stifled heat
all, lie within arms reach
vivid recollections
(and the glorification of war emblazoned upon young vulnerable minds)


within the interstices of this retelling
of battle and foe; of arrow and pierce; of beheading and chains
i seek / another repetition
not the clicking of keys
or the familiar ringing of a forgotten cell phone in the mosque /
on and off and on
a repetition of remembrance
a repetition that disrupts
these narratives of hegemony that delineate us into neatly carved boxes, silent from within so there remains no need to shut the lid
a repetition that induces rage

and we will neither shut up nor sit down, for now we’ll be ready
because we’ve got this rage,
this heart and
this faith

ay musalmano tumhari
ghairato kya ho gayi?

yeh matam mazloom ka matam
aur, khaymo me / ek udaasi reh gayi

it is a matter
of reworking the script

post-script: still not really happy with this. reworking it. but felt it worth posting, none the less.

1 comment:

rabfish said...

i'm glad you posted it

these are interesting lines:

"blood-rock-fuelled black-berries
not the clicking of keys
or the familiar ringing of a forgotten cell phone in the mosque /
on and off and on"