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I often think!

by Irfan Siddique
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irfan siddique

This is a poem said four years ago, when in the same days in 2019, the government of “human rights defender”, “guardian of personal liberties” and “spokesperson of respect humanity” picked me up from home at midnight and handcuffed me and took a decision from an assistant commissioner and locked me in the kasuri mill of Adiala jail. It was neither right yesterday nor right today, but those who took the story of Daman to Europe and America can be asked to take a look at their feet and closed kaaba.
I often think, forget.
the day with this grebe chalk
The day in my right hand
There was a handcuff in steel and iron.
which is a policeman.
The young hands held firmly like this.
It’s as if I’m just in a jerk.
I’ll break it
and its iron links.
They will be scattered far and wide on the earth.
My legs will be filled with electricity.
And I am a very diligent armed man.
I’ll break the door and be suddenly
People stopped in the market and saw me.
Someone waved his hand.
Someone stared at me in disgust.
Maybe I’m a suicide bomber.
Whoever was about to explode
But I’ve been caught
And there was one of them.
The one who came running near me
“Long live” with full force of the throat.
And turned to an adjacent street.
I think I’ll forget
the day of resurrection.
That’s when I’m wearing handcuffs
In the case of a criminal, Saraba Zanu
A highly qualified female judge
Stood in the “court” of
I took permission to speak to the judge.
So they say, “It’s allowed.”
So I thought, “Madam, this is my right hand.
In which is this handcuff of iron and steel.
Who has lived all his life with a pen or a book.
or from a chalk writing on a black throne
the relationship is maintained
I’m sad, very sad.
Why is this chain in the right hand?”
Saying all this, my voice was filled with something.
The chained hand trembled a little
And a little bit of a sensation in the wrist.
The word began to fade
But with great restraint I said __ “Madam.
If this hand is cut off on any charge of theft
It would have been better if it had been destroyed.
to see him chained like this
It’s not possible for me.”
The court smiled at the absurdity of my speech.
And she said, giving a judgment with great humility.
“Put him to life for fourteen days.”
I think, i’ll forget
The small, empty prison
in the guilty mills
The most dreadful habitual offenders
The horrors of a cave-like cell
to the stinging of the floor of it.
And i often forget
But the evening falls and the night changes direction.
When a guest arrives, the doorbell
It rings loudly, it feels like
That’s like dozens of “throws” tied
From this end of the street to this end.
And their red and blue lights are burning.
Some are groups of armed personnel
A man with a fat body says, ‘Let’s hurry’
So I humbly submit.
“I’m in the night.
Rough slippers are in the feet
Let me change these clothes and pick up medicines.”
But two hands fell on my feet.
And some gunmen, pushing me
Put it in a car like this.
That’s like I’m so named
I’m a terrorist and my head.
Holds a price of millions of dollars
I think often and think continuously for many days.
Tear this sheet of life
I forget, and I often forget.
But the evening falls and the night changes direction.
If a guest arrives
The doorbell rings loudly
In the heart, the dust of the ashes rises.
Going out to the gate
I don’t see my feet.
I don’t pay attention to the slippers of the feet.
I don’t take care of my daily medicines.
Only, just unconsciously maybe
I hide my right hand in the foot.
When the guest moves his hand towards my hand
So I stand up and stare at him.
(August 1, 2019)

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