This poem paints the agony of the Kashmiri Pandits forced to flee from their ancestral homes and thereby rendered homeless and rootless.
Countless griefs ago
On a quiet sepulchral night…
When Satan shook off his pious mask
And ranged the snowy breast of Earth
When rats dug deeper into their burrows
And cats on the prowl scratched the Earth
When birds in their nests batted not an eyelid
And scavengers sleepless scoured the Earth
When heifers lowed not at the fall of the sword
And butchers slew not uttering the Word
A squall leapt up…
Befuddling the wise
Benumbing the young
Undoing the yarn the Sufis had spun
Tossing it low
In the spluttering Fire
Uplifting its guns in fanatic glee
It vowed to make the infidel flee.
Such was the night
Countless griefs ago…
A booming shot
Then rent the sky
Silence was splintered
But for a while…
No whirring cameras
No spy cams either
To chronicle the splintering of the sky…
It rained bullets
The 'veth' went red
But the somnolent village
In a pall slept…
The village slept
So did the world
No doors no windows
No lights no footsteps
Silence was all
Stillness was all…
The mice will pop out
At the break of day
When the wolf with his kill
Has made his Way…
They whisper
They stutter
And life goes on without a whimper
And life goes on without a whimper.
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Reviews of "And Life goes on without a whimper"
Reviewed by Deborah Munson (Reader)
Reviewed on April 8, 2008
The Creator of the Universe looked on and saw this horrific injustice and time will tell in the end that justice was indeed given though not the way we may understand or comprehend. Beautifully sad historical poem. Deborah
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