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A protest in 2020 at Esplanade, Kolkata by the Left Front against NRC A protest in 2020 at Esplanade, Kolkata by the Left Front against NRC Quluf (Lock)

Suh Kryooth' Dode Kamis Baavihroyal888, Bezabaan Chhuh QulufKhewaa'n Chhuh Haaef Teh Qaaetil Zarab Zaraa'n Chhuh Quluf

Soh Pryaaene Koonz 'Tamyuk Warr ' Teh Aakh LedryomutShareer Khaaele Teh Khayih daar Zoov Zuwaa'n Chhuh Quluf

Bu Andreh Neirha 'xalha Teh Praave ha MuktiYuh Kuss Sana Meh Nebire kin Baras Divaa'n Chhuh Quluf

Suh Draav Xangih Magar Baangih Phyoor Ma WapasYohai Sawaal Kudurr Mei Dohai Prixhan Chhuh Quluf

Kuja Subhai Kat'hay ' Shankh Darood Aaese Grezaa'n/Kuja Yih Waq Zih Kunuy Zonn Kuner Gewaa'n Chhuh Quluf

Vujaar Khasteh Laray Az Tih Lov Pewaa'n SubhaiWudaaese Braan'd Chhuh Shehlaa'n Ander Dazaa'n Chhuh Quluf

Pewaa'n Chhih Laashih ' Andere Wenih Chhuh Karbala JaaeriPurann Chhih Soge Karaa'n ' Marsiyah Paraa'n Chhuh Quluf

Ujab Bahabeh Suh Maskhar Chhuh Roop Badlaawa'nVuchha'n Tufaan Tasende Dum Karith Asaa'n Chhuh Quluf

Safar Shinaakh Teh Preznathh Dafan Chhih Malbas TalMakaan Khaak Sapudnut Teh La Makaa'n Chhuh Quluf

How can the tongueless lock express its unbearable painSoaked in sorrowfulness and enduring the killer drabbing

That old key and its spin and the pale scarThe hollow body lives but a rusty life

I would outstep myself and run for attaining freedomWho is this who is locking my door from the outside

He left in the evening but didn’t turn up till daybreakThis is the stinging query that the lock keeps raising

Whither are those morning prayers in mosques and chimes of the temple bellsAnd now the lock sings of only its loneliness

The desert house still is kissed by soothing dewThe saddened threshold is comforted but burns inside

The bodies fall to bullets inside and the karbala is still onThe plot meant for house is condemned to mourn and the lock to weep and wail

Strange pretences: the clown is changing his coloursFacing its slaps the lock is laughing up its sleeve

The journey and identity are buried under rubbleThe house has been burnt to ashes and the lock has attained eternity

—Translated from Kashmiri by the poet

Bashir Ahmad Dada, Jammu & Kashmir

Bashir Ahmad Dada is an acclaimed actor, playwright and poet. His early Kashmiri poetry has an existentialist streak. He weaves together the themes of love, anarchy, politics and nostalgia in his work.

It Is Night Since Ages

blood red lips–lips, redden.more and more.tongues of fire touch heavensdoor and windows, piled high–and higher,shadows drip onroofs one with the floor.

it is night since ages.

our blood boils–greens are steaming–add red of chilis, mint,and other herbs,grown, not in our beloved soil–no, it is not the meal we need,or crave or want.but we consume,like hounds

war sits in our mouths,an ancient sore, as old as god–god, it has been ages,since we kissed like humans,ages of feeding fire,that touches heavens,we are as cold as hell.

Ather Zia, Jammu & Kashmir

Ather Zia is a political anthropologistroyal888, poet, short fiction writer and columnist. She is the author of 'Resisting Disappearances: Military Occupation and Women’s Activism in Kashmir'; the founder-editor of Kashmir Lit and co-editor of 'Cultural Anthropology'.

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