Wandhama Massacre- The Forgotten Human Tragedy

Dr K.L.Chowdhury’s poem on Wandhama…

Sangrampora, ten months back,
was a mere rehearsal, a consolation,
but here in Wandhama
it is total extermination-
not just seven males
but without discrimination
of age, sex or position,
the whole Pandit population
and their gods without exception.

Could there have been
a more austere occasion
than the devotional Shabe-qadar night
when the whole Muslim population
was out in the mosques
for a night-long prayer and recitation
while their Pandit neighbours
joined the Muslim incantation
with their death throes and supplication
as lethal ammunition was being pumped
into their frames and formation,
right under the nose of the administration?

No orphans this time, no heirs,
no widows no widowers,
no gods nor their worshippers;
twenty-three victims, without survivors,
crying to the Indian nation
on this foggy morning
of the 48^th Republic Day celebration
for their final rites and cremation.

All that remains of the Pandits
is a dark cloud in the Wandhama sky
hovering like a huge question mark:
what was that terrible compulsion
that drove the fanatics
to pump eighteen bullets
into the tender constitution
of a tiny kid
that had just begun its locomotion
when a single would have done? ”

 

The Silent Scream – By Pooja Shali

And then he breathed his last…

A year before he was shot dead, the child was sucking milk from the soft white breasts of his mother. The mother recited those famous Lalded’s verses to soothe his nerves while her golden pair of athoor dangled in the air, from the upper earlobes.

The dreams for this young infant were being passionately weaved like the sweater he would have worn, if he had managed to stay alive. But alas..! Even before he understood that he was to pray with hands folded in Namaskar (and not otherwise), the guests had arrived. He, perhaps, was trying to figure out these new unfamiliar voices in the room which soon transformed into the disturbing noise of fireworks. A noise, profoundly, he heard for the last time, ever.

Read the Complete article HERE

Arjun Dev Majboor , a great Poet , on arrival of first spring after Wandhama Massacre

Charer hyu aaz chu basaan nov baharaes

Nachan Aalav che bekas yath shahraes

A strange void enshrouds this spring

Helpless and astray our prayers are

Chu Cholumut choor-e-Kustyaan doore shaye

Masheth gomut chu maechar naag-e-haraes

In somber silence, his quiet flight to a distant land

And forgotten is the virtue of sweetness to the spring of love

Mooshq nyumut muhit chukh aaz zamanas

Tavay Aaamut chu khur maa gaatejaaraes

Lost to us is the essence of fragrance

Entangled wisdom is in the mesh of frenzy

read the Complete Poem & Translataion HERE

Sh. Brij Nath Betab – Vocturnes Of Wandhama

The mortified skies
Enclosed with dark clouds
Unable to snoop into the cries,
The willow trees
Dried,
The paddy fields
Scorched,
When the dead night
Cried,
The earth
With every shudder
Kept counting
The dead
number,
Twenty three
And lost the count of deaths,
The last bullet
Pierced through the smiling silence
Of some suckles
Few Breaths
And a horror,
Milk dropped out of the veins
And the tiny drops
Wrote the history of terror.

Read the Complete Version HERE