Kill the Future

Kill the future
Shut down twitter, facebook, linkedin, google
Unplug the internet, the hydro-dam, the nuclear reactor
Shutter the few generators of electricity
let those hooked to machines, die

Spray with fire our books; plug the holes in our logic with bullets. Erect a flag, on a bamboo stick. Plant it in the father’s chest.

Tear the scream from the mother’s throat tune it to the national anthem set the reverbs of the blasts as rhythms release it for us to Like

Pour gasoline on me,
Flick your thumb against the flint
Light me.
Make me watch how I burn and then shoot me
shoot me
shoot me
shoot me
shoot me
shoot me until 132 bodies are full of your lead.
shoot me in the eyes.

Write my obituary
Find out who fought for my cause
Make of them Heroes of Islam
Garland them in poppies.
Let them smoke my ashes.

wear your uniform to my funeral, have your dharna at my door, make your reconciliation, enjoy your appeasement, drone me, fill my shed skin with petro-dollars, sing me a hindu lullaby.

murder the past, kill the future.

An Account of Autumn – Manūchherī

Divan “An Account of Autumn and in Praise of Aḥmad bin Abdus Samad, Vizier of Sultan Mas’ūd”, a wine-panegyric or khamriyya by Manūchherī Dāmaghānī (d. 1040 C.E.)
(trans. Prashant Keshavmurthy)

The Lord be praised – for autumn’s month is here,
The month of shrinking and swelling vineyards.
So much do they harvest and heap the grape
Now the vineyard teems like the milky-way.
For when the grape leaf, rainbow-like, is many-hued
The rainbow seems to hold grape clusters.
Blue purses hang from yellow leaves,
In each blue purse a largish seed of grape-flower.

And in the heart of that seed’s vinous flower
Are hidden ten sacks all concealing musk.
And that fruit’s as if it were someone unwell,
Of double aspect among all its limbs and body, One of its cheeks yellow, the other red.
Of them one’s breathless, the other jaundiced.

That pomegranate’s like a pregnant woman
And in her belly – a fistful of sons.
She won’t give birth until you beat her to the ground.
And when the child’s born its birth’s the same as eating it.
A mother gives birth to a child, or two or three.
Then why’s this pomegranate a mother of three hundred?
Continue reading An Account of Autumn – Manūchherī

Editorial Notes for Opinion Editorials on “Independence Day”

Open with Nehru’s “Tryst with Destiny” if you are a male* Indian/Gora author.
Open with Jinnah’s “You are Free to Go” if you are a male Pakistani author.
No one will ask you to write anything if you belong to current state of Bangladesh, so do not worry (one imagines you may have something to say about 1947).

Connect Nehru to Development; development to Congress; Congress to Decline; And turn to Modi, and open Markets. This should take one paragraph.
Connect Jinnah to secularism; secularism to Taliban; Taliban to lack of civil will to fight, and open Terror. This should take one paragraph.

If India: your nut graph should be keywords: trade, growth, poverty, rights, political.
If Pakistan: your nut graph should be keywords: turbulence, crisis, terrorism, US, failure.

Literary Value: For India, Established Male Fiction Authors should evoke example from a “classics” text here to peg. EMFAs for Pakistan do not exist, so you will necessarily be a One Book Author and should focus on evoking a White Author (preferably Russian writing in short pithy sentences about Chaos).

Human Interest Value: For India, Slums and Sexual Violence. For Pakistan, Persecution of Minorities, Terrorism *focused on Gender Abuses.

Concluding Paragraph for India must tackle what Modi’s visit to US will mean, and how do we want to remind Americans that they do not care about 2002. For Pakistan, the failure of the civil regime to make the military regime destroy the terrorists that they created to destroy the civil regime and what it means for Syria? Iraq? The Pakistan op-ed has more room to maneuver but “drones” are not on the table this year.

Open Remarks: No history lessons people. 1947 and 2014 are the only two important years with 2001 and 2002 as regional markers. Please try to keep your attention focused away from un-necessary people centered debates and certainly do not go into “domestic” issues. I heard from someone that infrastructure (water and power), IMF payments and Saudi Arabia/China were important players but we really do not have the space in 800 words to tackle this. Make sure that your novel has a catchy title for the bio line!

* The chances that a female authored piece will get published are slim but do give it a shot, if you are genetically inclined.

Looking forward to the submissions.

A Formula for Being Human


I am a man in exile in Beirut in 1982 – cast out by a military dictator.

On this ground too
unfurls
my blood stained standard

where the flag of Palestinian home
flows

Your Master has destroyed
one Palestine;
My wounds
have prospered
how many Palestines.


I am a woman; long hair, dreadlocked; ashes covering my naked body; living inside a tree; in love with an apparition. I am hunted by the emperor.

I, Lalla, set out
wanting to flower
                       like the bloom of cotton:
that was I, tenuous,
      whom the seed-picking cleaner
then the carder so abused
    when the woman spinning
had lifted me off
  thread by trembling thread
that was I, so cruelly used,
    set to hang in the weaver’s room.

I have seen a serious man hunger, and of hunger dying:
   as a leaf being taken in winter
         by the least wind,
                       ever so gentle.

I have seen a moron murderously beating a cook
      and since then I, Lalla, am waiting —
           will it not be torn? This love,
                  ever so delightful.1


I am a man; wandering; obese; in love with a young man who follows me, at some distance. I am sought by emperors for conversation. Eventually, they cut off my head.

O Sarmad, you won such fame throughout the world
After converting from kufr to Islam
And yet, in the end, what fault you found with Allah and the Prophet?
that you became a disciple of Ram and Lakshman?


It is hard for us to imagine what it means to speak outside of our privilege – to look at the world through the eyes of the dispossessed. We have sequestered our fears.

I quote three individuals: Lal Ded. Sarmad. Faiz. In fourteenth century Kashmir. In seventeenth century Delhi. In twentieth century Beirut. These individuals spoke, and acted outside the worlds which they inhabited. We tend to remember martyrs from the fact of their martyrdom but their life and words before had enough courage to achieve immortality. Seeing them as immortals before their deaths, allows us to conceive of the courage to speak and express our critical world view as an everyday courage, and a everyday concern.

Like many of you, I have done little but read the news from Gaza in the past few weeks. I have shuddered in witnessing how everyday life in Gaza has vanished under plumes of smoke and under debris. I feel helpless and I try to read poets and I try to reconcile my sorrow at a world spinning away.

For Gaza, for Syria, for Iraq, for minorities in Pakistan, this summer of destruction is etched in poetry. For resistance, for hope, please read Lal Ded, Sarmad, Darwish, and Faiz:

Forever thus
have people tangled with tyranny;
nor their rituals new, nor our ways new.

Forever thus
have we blossomed flowers in fire;
nor their defeat new, nor our victory new.


I am a woman; writing books and pamphlets in prison; working to unionize workers in Berlin. I am kidnapped, shot in the head, and my body is dumped in the canal.

I’m telling you that as soon as I can stick my nose out again I will hunt and harry your society of frogs with trumpet blasts, whip-crackings, and bloodhounds-like Penthesilea I wanted to say, but by God, you people are no Achilles. Have you had enough of a New Year’s greeting now? Then see to it that you stay HUMAN… Being human means joyfully throwing your whole life “on the scales of destiny” when need be, but all the while rejoicing in every sunny day and every beautiful cloud. Ach, I know of no formula to write you for being human…

———
  1. translation from Kashmiri original by Sonam Kachru []

My Dear Americans

My Dear Americans
My Dear Americans
Happy July 4th, my dear Americans. Here is a short made by Arpita Kumar, being screened at PBS ONLINE FILM FESTIVAL.

Here is what Kumar told us about the short:

I made My Dear Americans during my Project Involve fellowship at Film Independent in Los Angeles. We were asked to pitch short film projects focused on the theme of traditions. I thought it would be interesting to focus on an American tradition but from the point-of-view of an outsider. I chose to build a narrative around the 4th of July tradition since it’s the most American and patriotic of the holidays. And, I decided on a Sikh couple as the outsiders largely because around that time there was a shooting in a Sikh Gurudwara in Wisconsin. The white supremacist perpetrator associated the Sikhs with Osama Bin Laden and it shocked me that there was such ignorance about the Sikh community still. It had been more than a decade since 9/11 and the backlash continued. I realized that we cannot do much about the ignorance of others. What we can do is change our reaction to their ignorance. And, that inspired the film and the actions of the wife, Tejpreet.

I arrived in the U.S. eleven years ago with the unbearable enthusiasm of Baldev – the husband in the film – for all things American. Over the years, the enthusiasm has not tapered but my mind has gained a more complex understanding of national identity, displacement, and the idea of home. The film is a window into that mindscape.

Additionally, every time I start a film I give myself a challenge and for this one it was to tell a story with as little dialogue as possible. Watch and let me know if I succeeded. Also, vote.

Mirages of the Mind

MAY The early books of famed Urdu satirist Mustaq Ahmed Yousufi (b. 1922), Chiragh Talay (1961) and Khakam-e Badhan (1969), functioned in the college space for us in Lahore as cigarettes function in a prison camp – a currency, a momentary respite, a surge, and a day dream. We used to crack jokes from his oeuvre claiming them as they were uttered. He was not very well liked by my elders, however. They found him a poor replacement for the other satirists at play, Pitras Bukhari or Mustanssar Hussain Tarad or often Ibn-e Insha. Yet he was beloved by us near-adults as a rock star.
Continue reading Mirages of the Mind

Fifteen Years After Eqbal Ahmad: A Call

eqbalahmad Today marks the fifteenth anniversary of the passing of Eqbal Ahmad (1932 – 1999). Who was Eqbal Ahmad?

On 10 Feb, 1971, a letter appeared in The New York Times titled “Eqbal Ahmed: A Defense” signed by faculty at Princeton.

To the Editor:

Leaders in the movement to end the prolonged, cruel and useless violence against millions in Indochina have now been indicted by the Justice Department for conspiracy to blow up a heating system and kidnap a Presidential adviser. As Fathers Daniel and Phillip F. Berrigan have already right said, such a plot would be a “grotesque” response by “deranged” people – a “caricature” of the dedicated mass action still required to end the war.

We are writing about one of those indicted – a former student at Princeton and a good friend, Eqbal Ahmad, now a Fellow at the Adlai Stevenson Institute of International Affairs.

Everything we know about Dr. Ahmad is contrary to that of which he is accused. He is a scholar in political science who has established an international reputation with his published work on revolution. He has also translated his analysis into action.

He was one of the first to denounce romantic revolutionaries for substituting personal heroics for truly difficulty task of fashioning new links among the exploited, the powerless, the excluded and those who know what sustained work is required to transform individuals and society.

His writings have analyzed the disadvantages of conspiracy and terror when used by revolutionaries and emphasized the need to concentrate on isolating all unjust regimes morally and politically. A group of extreme leftist students last year stormed into the Adlai Stevenson Institute and deliberately destroyed Eqbal Ahmad’s research notes.

In our view, Eqbal Ahmad understands well the underlying social forces that impel rulers to persist in runious wars, and allow revolutionaries with deep roots among their own people to succeed despite the might brought against them by great powers. This among other things has made him a first-rate teacher and analyst and also one of the most persuasive opponents of the Vietnam war on campuses in this country and abroad.

Eqbal Ahmad’s public record of scholarship and advocacy makes the accusation appear highly implausible to us.

Henry Bienen, Kathyrn Boals, Henry H. Eckstein, Richard A. Falk, Manfred Halpern.
Princeton, N. J. Feb. 1, 1971
The writers are members of Princeton University faculties

Edward Said, when remembering Eqbal Ahmad, did so with such love and grace that every single time I have read those words, I have found myself transported to those conversations Said notes – with Darwish, or Faiz or Paley.

Yet, Said left unsaid what Ahmad would mean to the future, our present. The Harrisburg Seven are now forgotten. I rarely find Ahmad cited in contemporary scholarship and I rarely see his figure evoked in a genealogical manner to the many critical thoughts on empire or global south. He did not leave behind “the big book” I guess. Perhaps most critically, I have rarely heard young scholars of Pakistan incorporate his work into their own.

A small group of us, wish to mark today, the anniversary of Eqbal Ahmad‘s fifteenth year, and raise a call for submissions. We wish to create a small print ‘zine to be published in Fall 2014. We ask for reflections on Eqbal Ahmad’s work and the ways in which it intersects with your own practices and theologies. Please contact me or leave your contact information in comments, if you are interested. We would also like you to read Eqbal Ahmad, if you have not encountered him before. We recommend The Selected Writings of Eqbal Ahmad (2006).

You can also look at the archivization project at our beloved SAADA on Eqbal Ahmad.

We thank you.