Gurinder Azad
I kept silent at your death
didn’t speak with anyone either.
but then yesterday,
just across the metro
when I spotted a crowd of daily wage labourers
the thought of you came flashing,
in their faces
I searched for the elegy to
what followed those four days of your labour..
but I kept walking, didn’t stay there for long
there were moments when
the slogans to demand our rights
and your screams ground in that thresher –
both seemed the same to my mind.
and moments when
my conscience
got drenched in fear
after looking at
a vacuum appear on the vast backdrop
of our movement.
then giving myself false assurances, I moved on
your last few pictures on facebook – I
have not been able to look at those.
But that image that moves faster than imagination –
it disappears somewhere
after witnessing your helpless last moments
at the unknown shores of your family’s remorse
but even in this
the memory throws forth,
however hazily,
the vast backdrop of our movement
where Khairlanji and other such massacres
appear holding on to canvases.
however, Manu Taanti
knowing my conscience
in whatever form,
today, I shall speak with my
broken, perhaps dwarf-like words
that the time will change
your circumstances
your condition
the news of your murder – all
have passed on to our marching feet
Our massacres do not die!
and this wasn’t about demanding your wage
for those four days of labour
this is the account of many centuries..
till it is settled,
You cannot die, Manu Taanti!
~
Akshay Pathak’s English translation of Gurinder Azad’s Hindi poem, 'yeh chaar din ki dehaadi ki baat nahin thi, Manu Taanti'.