Two poems by a Pakistani poet that could have been written in India today

SHO Sahib is Waiting

SHO sahib is waiting,
What account shall I give him?
(Such was my anguish, nothing
Seemed at all possibly true,
My heart has borne such things
As cannot be accounted for).

Here you go, I’ll testify.
Write: They are well-founded,
Your attested allegations,
My crime is all too plain.
That what I did, I did too little of
Is my only regret,
Had I only the chance again –
But when are rights rightfully claimed?

And now, append this, too:
As long as we draw breath again,
We’ll do this very thing, again,
And more of it, if possible.
We’ll write those very words, again,
To puncture the authorities
So they shall tremble, reading.

We’ll bring out once again those songs
That all the bullied down-and-out
Dance upon the singing of—
We’ll take these laws
That are in tatters
To dust the feet of agitators—
It’s tyranny’s misfortune, its
Decrees* we’ll tear apart
In the city’s bustling heart.

The time is coming when
We’ll take a full account,
But when we take account
Where will you be, to answer?

You are a troubling thorn, no more,
A bit of grit along the way,
And it is those who block the way
Who are truly your masters.

In our hearts, we have resolved
To clear the way, no matter what,
And since you’re but an underling,
We shall forgive you, in the end.

* Nizaam-e-ahkamat, literally “executive order”, indicates General Zia’s Hudood ordinance.

— 'Kotwal Baitha Hai', by Fahmida Riaz, translated by Parvati Sharma.

General Zia-Ul-Haq of Pakistan was given to conservative tendencies, to discipline and to strict governance. Thus, he introduced the “Hudood” Laws, religious-cultural legislation that sought to inspire Islamic nationalism amongst Pakistani people.

The Hudood laws, which were purportedly based on the Shari’a, mostly worked to discipline their subjects: they dictated appropriate behaviour, and prescribed strict punishments. Pakistanis were expected to behave in certain Islamic ways, in order to come across as an identifiable nation and thus become glorious.

Zia’s ideas about Islam were almost parodic in their predictability: he ordered female newsreaders on national TV to cover their heads, introduced religious-cultural education in school curricula to instill pride, enforced the ban on alcohol, made Friday prayers mandatory for government servants, etc. Besides, Zia’s dictatorship coincided with the Russian invasion of Afghanistan, so he felt an added responsibility to stop the communist influence from destabilising his nation.

In this, he was ably supported by the Americans, who, despite his conservatism, which might ordinarily have struck a discordant note, chose to stand with Zia in the global fight against the Red Menace. The allies also supported free trade, capital and growth, and that was an additional bond between them.

In order to check communist propaganda, the General discouraged useless debate. This was not made easy by the many communist sympathisers – students, writers and workers – within Pakistan, who frequently protested the new laws and marched in support of critically divergent ideas. One amongst them was a young political worker called Nazeer Abbasi, all of twenty-eight when he was picked up by Pakistani intelligence and disappeared. That was in 1980.

Abbasi had worked with a union of Municipal workers and spoke often against the Hudood Laws and in favour of a socialist and democratic overhaul of the ruling dispensation. He had, on occasion, given the example of Iran, which had then presented possibilities of revolutionary change. Abbasi was arrested for undertaking a campaign against the state.

Fahmida Riaz was another dissenter to the forced idea of a particularist nation. She wrote a poem for Abbasi, which describes a scene from his habeas corpus hearing in a Pakistani court. Then, when she had written several other poems that challenged Zia’s ideas, she wrote another one describing the police’s visit to her house, for general questioning relating to her activities.

Soon after, she came to India, to live in exile with her two small children. India hosted her for seven years: in those days the Indian state patronised leftists and critics, its own as well as Pakistani ones.

 On Nazeer Abbasi

In the halls of court,
Eyes of stone
Faces of stone
Breaths of stone,
On leathery tongues
Notions of stone.

Pleas in the stand
Wept out, aloud in suffering,
“You who guard the law,
The one, last night, you took away,
Now have him brought here, please,
At least his body, please”.

Faces of stone
Eyes of stone
Off leathery tongues
Some words hung,
On stone they were polished,
They slipped through the hand,
Such fine points of law
Who would understand?
“It’s a technical problem, you see,
Your appeals aren’t arranged properly.”

On hearts in stone encrust
Would pour showers of dust
Each eye that was of stone
For wet tears would yearn…

A heart, it throbbed, of a sudden,
A flame-like thing, it burned.
You knew not what was happening, yet
Lo, the streams began flooding,
Voices met, and gathering
Slogans rose, echoing
Of unsullied lives
Of restless bloom,
How fiery their blood,
How their cries did resound!

In the halls of court
Rooms cold as stone
Caught their breath and listened:
Then Red Salutes were raised,
The name of the slain was raised,
It fell as a punch to the heart,
From eyes the blood did burst –

Long live, long live, O brave of heart
Some stone at least was pierced.

— "Nazeer Abbasi Par", by Fahmida Riaz, translated by Parvati Sharma

Here are the original poems in Roman script:

Kotwal Baitha Hai

Kotwal baitha hai
Kya bayan dein us ko?
(Jaan jaise tadpi hai,
Kuch ayan na ho paye
Woh guzar gayi dil pe
Jo bayan na ho paye)

Lo, bayan dete hain
Haan likho ke sab sach hai
Sab durust ilzamaat
Apna jurm sabit hai
Jo kiya bahut kam tha
Sirf yeh nadamat hai
Kash waqt phir aaye
Haq ada hua hai kab?

Yeh karo azaafa ab
Jab talak hai dam mein dam
Phir yehi kareinge hum
Ho saka to kuch barh kar
Phir woh harf likheinge
Teer-e-zad har amir
Kanp uthe jis-e-parh kar

Phir woh geet chedeinge
Bast-a-dast har mazloom
Jhoom uthe jise ga kar
Chithda hai yeh qanoon
Baghiyon ke qadmon ki
Is se dhool jhadeinge
Amir-i-nahoosat hai
Yeh nizaam-e-ahkamat
Beech chowk phadeinge

Waqt aane wala hai
Ihtasab hum leinge
Jab hisab hum leinge
Phir jawab dene ko tum magar kahan hoge
Khar-o-khas se kamtar ho
Raste ke kankar ho
Jis ne raah roki hai
Woh tumhara aaqa hai

Hum ne dil mein thaani hai
Raah saaf kar deinge
Tum to sirf naukar ho
Tum ko maaf kar deinge

Nazeer Abbasi Par

Aiwan-e-adalat mein
Pathrayee hui ankhein
Pathraye hue chehre
Pathrayee hui saansein
Chamre ki zabaanon par
Pathrayee hui baatein

Faryad Katahre mein
Ro ro ke tadapti thi
"Kanoon ke rakhwale
Kal le ke gaye jisko
Ab usko yahan layein...
Woh naash to dikhlayein"

Pathraye hue chahre
Pathrayee hui aankhein
Chamre ki zabanon par
Lachki hui kuch baatein

Pathar ke se chikne the
Hathon se phisalte the
Qanoon ke nuqte the
Kya log samajhte the?
"Sangin majboori hai,
Darkhwast adhoori hai..."

Pathraye dilon mein to
Bas ret barasti thi
Har aankh ke pathar thi
Ashkon ko tarasti thi
Yak-dum koi dil dhadka
Shola sa kahin bhadka

Jab tak ke koi samjhe
Lo phoot pade dhare
Awazein milien baham
Aur goonj uthe naare
Masoom si jaanon ke
Betaab jawanon ke

Kya shor lahoo ka tha
Kya goonj thi naron mein
Aiwan-e-adalat mein
Pathraye hue kamre
Dam rok ke sunte the –

Phir surq salam aaya
Maqtool ka naam aya
Ghunsa sa laga dil par
Ankhon se lahoo phuta
Jeete raho dil walon
Pathar to koi toota