Paper
I need a paper.
A miraculous paper.
I have a black-and-white paper.
It바카라s called Voter바카라s card.
But that won바카라t do.
I have a saffron-white-green paper.
It바카라s called Aadhaar card.
But even that won바카라t do.
I have a light purple paper.
That paper is called Ration card.
That won바카라t do at all.
I need a special paper.
A miraculous paper.
My father바카라s name is Sheik Suleman.
He is eighty.
I tell him, abba, give me paper.
Abba says, flood has carried it away
Storm has blown it far
Starvation has eaten it up.
I don바카라t have any paper.
My body is now a paper.
On my hand and leg is written a history,
the history of whatever I have done so far.
The words which were kept hidden so far in my heart
are no more hidden there.
They are now written in my sad eyes.
Take it, I am giving you my body.
Tell him to read this paper.
I tell him, Hon바카라ble Sir,
This is my paper, my abba.
Read the history scripted all over his hands and legs,
the history of how this country was made.
While reading, you will be able to listen to
The siren of a factory,
The sweet sound of a cricket ball striking the middle of a bat,
the tune of a shehnai, the bol of a tabla.
Please read those few words written
in his sad eyes
바카라I am the farmer in a jute farm
I am Azharuddin of Benson and Hedges in 1985
I am Bismillah Khan, Zakir Hussain
I am a Muslim by religion but before that I am an Indian.바카라
But he can바카라t read my abba바카라s hands and legs.
He can바카라t read my abba바카라s eyes.
By reading only meaningless words on the paper for years
he has forgotten to read a human body.
I again start to run in search of a miraculous paper.
I need a miraculous paper.
If I don바카라t get the paper
I won바카라t be able to play the drum in next year바카라s Durgapuja
If I don바카라t get the paper
I won바카라t be able to mould goddess Lakshmi바카라s saral1 out of mud.
If I don바카라t get the paper
I won바카라t be able to stand in between the two warring parties carrying arms and
shriek at the top of my voice, 바카라What the hell are you doing?바카라
Cool down.
I need a paper.
A miraculous paper.
I start running from Kashmir to Kanyakumari.
I find
People in Kashmir saying, We won바카라t give you paper.
People in Punjab saying, We won바카라t give you paper.
People in Assam saying, We won바카라t give you paper.
People in UP saying, We won바카라t give you paper.
Even people in Delhi are saying, We won바카라t give you paper.
No, Hon바카라ble Sir,
I am not with them.
You need paper
I바카라ll give you paper.
I am Sheikh Saddam, son of Sheikh Suleman.
I don바카라t have any job
I ramble in the jungles and in the secret tunnels of
human hearts
In search of a nilkantha bird that is called poetry.
I will give you a paper made out of our faith
I will give you a fountain pen made out of our dreams
Please fill that fountain pen with the ink of trust
and write afresh a poem
called India.
(Translated from the original Bengali into English by the poet.)
1 A printed ritual plate that depicts goddess Lakshmi.
Angshuman Kar is professor of english and cultural studies and director, centre for Australian studies at the university of Burdwan, India
