ON FORGETTING
Translated from Hindi by Srirupa Bhattacharya
Is it possible to forget
the spent season of countless killings
hung like thick mist
above graveyards, villages and towns still
Those long nights
that we spent in the shadows of fear
Sleepless
The beads of my rosary
that lie muddied in a ditch still
Lost beneath debris and rubble
Those infants who did not know of a world
outside their mothers' embrace
Mass-graves; tell me, has remembering
been in the nature of man
so that these may be forgotten
What does it mean to live in the engulf of insult of one's faith
And be crushed by the burden of injustices,
A life of terror cooped in dirty ghettos
and in floating ashes of half-hearted smiles,
In the silence of a rusty loom abandoned by coloured threads,
In the reports that have disappeared from newspapers
and the faces that have disappeared from sight.
Will you be able to forget
The scratches that remain to mark your face
Will you not look at them, every time
Will you not think about the moments
when ominous evenings were spared on you
only so that they could mock you
Forgetting, is it the same as getting justice?
When even the air we breathe
reeks of murderers
Is it possible to forget
the faces of murderers
Trapped waist-deep in the opulence of land, kingdoms
and their heirs;
On seats of powers
The faces of pimps;
In the Parliament, in the Assembly, on TV and theatre screens
glowing faces
of plunderers and murderers
Not only in the heart of Delhi
But in every corner of the world these faces are being identified
Speak to me, jungles of Chiapas
Tell me, African farms
Rain soaked afternoons of Chile,
Villages of Philippines,
Valleys of Kashmir,
Crematoriums of Vidarbh,
Rising fumes in Dharmapuri, Jhajjar and Khairlanji,
Arid mountains of Afghanistan,
Soaring rockets in the winds of Gaza
and all those catapults that are taking aim
Explain to me the topography of that face
Explain that, this face is of Ram and of Obama
also.
This face is of Netanyahu and of Rajapakshe
Of Pizzaro and of Hitler too
Somewhere in the face there is Reagan and there is Thatcher
Nehru and Gandhi and Hedgewar,
Chidambaram, Manmohan, Montek, Advani, Modi
East India Company and Walmart, Shell and Essar
Vedanta and Posco.
All these faces
All the maps
How will you be able to forget them?
If you forget
Then you will have to forget along with them,
All the battles
That have made history the way it is
History of 1945 Germany
History of 1973 Vietnam
Displaced from history and torn from their voices
Some people, whose
Strength has made our today possible, how can
They be forgotten
Slums of my country, thank you
Your incessant fights have kept the memories of insults vivid
Thank you, harvests of the soil
No one knows the enemies' faces better than you
Thank you, wise trees of the land, the accounts of burnt houses
Are still sealed in your memory
Dusty roads, thank you too, for our journey to victories
Will march across your chest
Rivers, ponds and seas, thank you, for we
learnt flowing and confluence from you
Raindrops, thanks to you, for the lesson of dogged determination
You gave to us
To all the roses in every garden, new springs will
take our struggles to new lands
Thank you songs, now we won't let our silence be
Our destiny
Thank you, o moon of my skies, now will never leave behind in the dark
The hope of finding light
Thank you Delhi, your cruelty gives the ways to hate
Thank you Bastar, for the days after tomorrow
We have faith in you
Thank you Manipur for spitting on the face of the enemy
Thank you
Thank you Kashmir, for telling stones
that they are sharp
The lives that breathe in the soil of this land
I am thankful to you, for all great battles begun in the strength
of your wrists
The brave dead, I thank you, for life has
from the manure of your martyrdom
birthed new roses, and honey, and bread, and
New blood
Blood enough
To keep alive memories in our remembering
Now you must say
Tell me, how can you think about forgetting these
But then, if you kept these things in mind
And forgot about fighting
Then the truth of these memories will stand refuted.
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