I admire the courage of the man who had nailed a hoarding of an Iranian leader with the slogan, “we fear neither the West, nor the East” on the Dargah-Rainawari road, given that he was raising this world-conquering slogan from a land-locked state of Indian-administered Kashmir, itself under the yoke of Indian occupation from last seven decades.
The otherwise scientifically infallible Doppler Effect ceases to hold water when the resonance of the slogan raised from the towns of Iran fails to be shielded by the majestically soundproof Hindukush Mountains. Even the frequency and beats of the slogan – which ought to have been depreciated owing to the distance covered by it – seems to have not been fiddled with.
What eggs on this bunch of faint-goats to be in league with the world-shaking soldiers, when it comes to yelling out highly -spirited oaths?
The vocal chords of the people walking gingerly on the streets of its own city for fear of a trooper gifting them with a generous kick (or an ungenerous plump Lathi depending on his mood) can ill-afford to shout out a world-conquering slogan. Why have we always been limping our way to Punjab, Delhi or central Asia all the way through our history, and when it is an open fact that whoever has come to free us has flogged his way through the villages of this valley to fill the treasury of his capital?
Kashmiris throughout the ages have dreamt of warrior princes galloping their way through the passes of Hindukush sloganeering to save Kashmir from oppressors. Even after being slain, their passionate eyes remained glued to Pir Panjal, Karokaram waiting for the marching descend of the soldiers. Their souls halted for a while mid-skywards and stared down intermittently if any marching army was roaring through Pir Panchal or Karokaram to save their kith and kin. As the vultures (mistaking them for corpses) were about to claw back their eyes and other softly protected organs, the shackled begaaris knew the soldiers eluded another generation of oppressed Kashmiris.
Swear by Lalitadatiya’s sword or by Shihabuddin’s march, world would still see you as a third-rate pettifogger invocating to distant empires for help. Masked by vague slogans, we are world-shaking heroes. Swayed by false glory, we are the world beaters.
Lalitadatiya, Shihabuddin, Shams Chak, and Yaqoob Chak; haul them out one by one from the comfort of their graves and tell the World how brave our ancestors have been. The World would not listen. The world buys action and we are lotus-eaters of first order. The currency of tales has been thrown out of circulation by the coinage of action (apply Grisham’s Law). Let those sturdy grapplers grapple with their oppressors and let us apply our energy to disengage ourselves from the “Side-changing Lotus-Eater” tagging.
Let us have actions to back up our yelling and stop clinging on to the rope of empty slogans prone to snapping and pushing us down to the hard, merciless ground of reality.
We fear nor the East neither the West.
But trembled are
By that petty fuzz
Wearing that khaki vest…
Bemoan we those slained
Seven Seas Afar
Grapple we not but
What We ought grapple with…
Injustice galores, cries muffled are
Saw who?! What happened! Happened when….?
Wail we here for those butchered in Iraq
Spare we not a few tears for those dying
Dying and never having had lived
Bemoaned before being sung…,
With dangling dignity we form the crust
We fear not the east, nor the West
Whisper I silently….lest be whacked!..
By the plump Lathis of growling CRPF men
Lest those Goblins trample me on,…
on the hard Road.
Whispers travel louder and reach farther
Let me whisper then,
We fear nor the West neither the East
We are the best, We are the Best…
Jamsheed Rasool is media post-graduate from Srinagar.