Love in the Age of Terrorism (a Pashto poem)
Poet: Sadiq Kaki
Translation: Faraz Jamil Kakar
O my innocent love
Oblivious of what the homeland is going through
The calm village is not the same
With riots on
And men, as handsome as you, dying in bomb blasts
I have not forgotten your dear friends
Whom you saw living, have walked away dead
Don’t be restless my love and tame your longing
The motherland is here to stay and I will wait for you
My smile
And my longing to be with you… will wait for you
I don’t blame you… for this is our own motherland
But my love…
It lately feels like a stranger’s land
People leave home in the mornings
Not to return in the evenings
Tears so abundant
And laughter so rare
I don’t understand this game of death and fire
This chaos in every corner of the Pashtun land
Those old days are no more…
When friends of the village would party in the evenings
No more joy in those parties
And no such parties anymore in our village
No more is it possible
To go for a careless walk in the woods
For a journey to Swat, Kalam or to Peshawar
No more smiles on faces
No more calm in the air
And we are left frightened…
Scared of taking each step in new journeys
Visiting the market with the fear
That cars would blow up
Listen to me my love…
Focus on your hard work in foreign lands
Pass your time, count your nights and work hard
Neither guest room
Nor mosque or market place is safe
Grief-stricken masses
Lost livelihoods
Swat and Deer in turmoil
Chaos in Kabul
Mayhem in Waziristan, and in my beautiful Bannu
Announcements of deaths in every village
Such is the impact of this monstrous storm
The happy occasion of Eid
Only ignites the old wounds
For what celebration with wounded hearts
The culture of visiting guest rooms and of parties has ended
The new tradition is to visit graveyards on Eid
The town squares are empty
So is the playground of the village
The elders live long
While the youth rest under the dust of earth
Mothers wake up to prepare the dress of their sons
But decorate their pictures with funeral flowers at late nights
In the old days…
Girls would color their hands with Henna
But now…
Those hands are used to beat chests in grief
O my love…
Your dear friends have deserted the parties
Just like colors have deserted my poems
I summarized for you
The happenings in our homeland
For you are unaware of what is happening here
My innocent love…
A very sombre and apposite poem given the times we now seem to be living in.
A moving poem on loss,suffering,and yearning in this age of terrorism and trauma.
A true poem about the present day life , well expressed.