Firm he stood on the quaking ground of justice
And obliged the cracked lips of mendacity
To declare the truth grappling to surface
From the prison of hollow, specious rhetoric
Then his house was raided by the army
He halted the arms of death before they fired
At his hapless people who could no longer tell
The face of Life from Death, Hope from Trepidation
A flash of light from his nerve unsettled Darkness
Then his house was raided by the army
He marshaled the strength of weeping women
Their virtues slain in the altar of madness and terror
Carefully, he covered their painful nakedness
With promises of hope he sometimes disbelieved
Then his house was raided by the army
Will his tired people adjourn from digging graves,
Or waiting in vain for the ghosts of the disappeared?
When will the torrent of fresh blood dry on the roads
Paved by courage, blasted by terror, entrenching doom?
While he meanders between despair and faith
Another house will be raided by the army. (12 Nov 08)
-This is based on the actual experience of two young human rights workers in Northeast India in 1997. That part of India is terrorized by the state through the Armed Forces Special Powers Act intended to stifle the struggle of Northeast Indians - predominantly indigenous peoples- for self-determination. The Act legitimizes the use of force to curb political dissent. Law enforcers have the authority to arrest, search or even liquidate human beings, if in their judgment, it is necessary for the maintenance of public order. Even rape has been resorted to by state security forces as part of legitimate military operations and it is always committed under a culture of impunity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem