Poems: 'Naxalite' And 'Culprits'
Through 100 pages of 'Poetry as Evidence', Outlook presents a selection of poems and verses that have moved us, and we feel these serve as evidence of our bleak times and lives. The poems below are the 67th and 68th from the series.
Tribal people dance in protest against the poor implementation of the Forest Rights Act in Bhubaneswar in 2016
Tribal people dance in protest against the poor implementation of the Forest Rights Act in Bhubaneswar in 2016
Yes, Naxalite Naxalite
If I say something, they call me a Naxalite
If I ask for my rights, they call me a Naxalite
If I breathe, they call me a Naxalite
They kill me and call me a Naxalite
They can’t stand my songs
When I protest, they beat me with batons
They run from public service
Shooting in the back, they won’t fight me to my face
Ask for your rights, you won’t get them
Success comes from serving the people
No (Sarna Dharma) Code, no vote
I swear on my mother, no black notes
Siddhu-Kanhu, Chand-Bhairo, Veer Tana Bhagat
I forge my path with a pen, not a weapon
I fight, I die, I fall, I rise, I go on
Will never leave my mother-soil, and forest
I sip of my toil, I live on it
I swear on Sarna Mai, that is the truth
Naxalite Naxalite, oh yes, Naxalite Naxalite
—Translated from Hindi by Kaushika Draavid
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Aman Kachhap, Jharkhand
(Aman Kachhap?is a tribal rapper from Jharkhand.)
Culprits
Governor, How loud should I speak?!
I am indigenous to this land
This land, this forest, these plants and trees
On these Flora-fauna, mountains, rivers and little ponds
My heart resides
There’s a little right that I have over these!
A tribal young man…
With folded hands
Was requesting the government officer.
His wife in torn clothes
Lay prostate in front of the police van
His naked children were crying
Bastard! you are anti-national… Criminal!
The police -hitting them with batons…
Sent the Adivasis to the jail…
They had their eyes on the Adivasi women…
The naked children kept crying…
“Where there are no such vultures…
Take us there, Mother…in the lap of nature
Or else…
The way they tore apart Mom and Dad
Similarly we
would be torn apart by tomorrow’s first rays…
Culprits…Culprits…”
—Translated from Hindi by Pratyush Pushkar
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Sunil Gaikwad, Maharashtra
(Author of 12 books,?Sunil Gaikwad is an Adivasi poet from the Bhil community. His works have documented the struggles of the Adivasi community and have upheld the values of Adivasi lives, far beyond the deterministic civilisational ethos.???????)
