Two poems by Abdul Satar ‘Ranjoor’
The caged bird: On the treaty of Amritsar (1846)
What does a fulfilled wish cost?
I wish a wish:
A caesura, a pause
An audience for my aggrieved tale.
A remedy for me
Behind policed bars.
I was a golden bird
My beauty was legendary
Eyes, ears and hearts captivated
Everyone would covet me.
I roamed gardens
of epics, old books and brochures of proposed luxury.
Fountains, fresh water springs, blossom, bulging boughs
Ripe fruit and vast green.
One day I was out as routine
When a meadow tempted me.
I felt at peace immediately.
I don’t recall
When the snare crept upon me.
A stupor had overcome me
No inkling of the forfeit
Reached me.
A loud whisper
Like a half spat gurgle awoke me
To prison: I’d been caged.
My captor peddled me:
Lock, stock and barrel.
The man who bought me
too took no pity on me.
Puddles of dull ache
accumulate in my knees.
Ropes bind my wings
Eyes blindfolded.
In prison, I lie listless –
A shrivelled cripple.
Kaleem’s tongue wrenched,
Deaf, dumb, blinded.
Starved of grain and water
I’m neglected, famished.
A foolish wish rustles in my sore chest:
I wish I’d flutter my wings
Like in old carefree days of yore.
Faint hope still flickers
A sip once more of blue freedom
trickling from the sun.
A kiss of soft spring
in the arms of sighing meadows.
Squeezed inside the cage
The bars bellow
prohibition to flutter.
All paths to escape shut.
My heart is sick
What dreadful misgivings haunt me!
How’d I plead?
Unkempt grief snuffs my voice.
My famished children weep,
My family left with nothing
But souvenirs of tragedy.
I have but one quality:
Every morning, I lay a golden egg.
Alas! But for this quality
I’d not have faced tragedy.
Master bought me cheap.
A few coins for the cage, a few for me.
All profits accrue to him
He siphons the fruit of my body.
His heart never melts with mercy
I plead each day for liberty.
He dangles a promise,
But rescinds
Cites concerns for my safety.
Meanwhile, another bastard
Advises him against my liberty.
He is my arch-enemy
Who advises him to ignore me
I only pray such travesty
Be engraved in his destiny.
He shares culpability
For spilling innocent blood.
He profits nothing from
Depriving me my liberty.
I wish
Smoke billowed from earth, one last time.
The sky toppled over, one last time.
Ranjoor, everyday
I am tormented
By starvation and contemplation.
Patience runs short now
Either decide my destiny
Or let me die and be free.
Thoughts on Kashmiristan
I address you my fellow Kashmiri
Take particular care
That you are sound of mind and body.
Scion of its soil, let nothing foil
Your dream of a flag fluttering free
Proclaiming Kashmiristan.
I hear you will sign
the decree of partition.
Read every article carefully
Be prepared beforehand.
Never lower your sight
from the pinnacle of glory.
I swear you by your land and people
Never forget their memory:
People whose houses are painted with penury.
Enemies surround you, they close in.
Look sharp! Keep your wits about you.
Be wary of dangers ahead and behind you.
Beware! This new-fangled friendship
Might make a fool out of you.
Beware!
Don’t take the nation’s boat out
The whirlpools will drown you.
Shed your stupor, stand guard, the storm descends
Light lamps of kindness, put on valour
Roar to the demons
Like a fierce lion out of his lair.
The enemy might know the terrain
Better than you.
Ranjoor if you profess to love serving people
Dedicate yourself, your plot and phrase
to your people.
(Abdul Sattar Ranjoor (born 12 October 1917, dead 23 March 1990) was a Kashmiri politician, and a renowned revolutionary poet and writer. He was a veteran leader of the Communist Party of India (CPI). and the founding state secretary of the party in Jammu and Kashmir.)
Ghazal by Ghulam Rasul Nazki
Yet again today, you rake
the subject of desires of my heart:
fresh tales of salting the wounds of my heart.
I waxed eloquent with my tale, you heard me
out patiently. Else, who in the world
listens to lovers pouring out their heart?
Relic of the garden –
Flower raised in garden’s shade
In deserts too, I speak of gardens
with a breeze in my heart.
You sculpted my idol, I followed
your lead. Ritual of idolatry
started right, thus, from Kabba’s heart.
The candle burnt and wept
all night. Till dawn, all conversation
revolved around the moth’s heart.
(Mir Ghulam Rasool Nazki (March 16, 1910 – April 16, 1998) was a prominent scholar, poet, writer, intellectual and broadcaster from Kashmir)
Huzaifa Pandit is the author of the recently published ‘‘Green is the Colour of Memory’ which won the first edition of Rhythm Divine Poets Chapbook Contest 2017. Born and raised in Kashmir, his poems alternate between despair, defiance, resistance and compliance as they seek to make sense of a world where his identity is outlawed. His inspirations in poetry can be guessed from the topic of his PhD: “Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Agha Shahid Ali and Mahmoud Darwish – Poetics of Resistance” at University of Kashmir. His poems, translations, interviews, essays and papers have been published in various journals like Indian Literature, PaperCuts, Life and Legends, Jaggery Lit, JLA India, Punch and Noble/Gas qtrly.
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Dr. Nishi Pulugurtha is Head and Associate Professor in the department of English, Brahmananda Keshab Chandra College and has taught courses at West Bengal State University and Rabindra Bharati University. Her research areas are British Romantic literature, Postcolonial literature, Indian writing in English, literature of the diaspora and film. She is a creative writer and writes on travel, Alzheimer’s Disease, film, short stories and poetry. Her work has been published in The Statesman, Kolkata, in the anthology Tranquil Muse and online – Café Dissensus, Coldnoon, Queen Mob’s Tea House and Setu. She guest edited the June 2018 Issue of Café Dissensus on Travel.
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