Pratishtha Pandya

Labani Jangi

Painting

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Chitragupta was tallying the names of dead teachers and ancillary staff from various primary and upper primary schools, district-wise, for the 50 time, as he had done with the votes a few weeks earlier. He did not trust the machine to do this job too well. He had to ensure that the records were right before they were sent off to the office of the Chief Secretary and above.The dead were waiting for their rewards, but he could not afford to get anything wrong. He had to check all records of their past deeds on earth before he assigned them a seat. The cost of every mistake would be quite high, and so he kept counting – again and again. And every time he spent a few seconds counting, a few more names were added to his unending list of lost souls. If he were to get them to queue up outside his office in Patallok, he imagined the line would reach all the way to Prayagraj.

Two plus two four, 1,600 and more…Two plus two four Four into two eight  Eight twos are sixteen Plus ten... There are 1,600 and more. If you learnt to add your anger   and subtract your fears, learn to do the maths and deal with bigger numbers, you can count the bodies stuffed in ballot boxes. Tell me, you aren&#39;t scared of numbers.February, March, April, May Remember the names of the months,  the days of the weeks of utter neglect, names of the seasons of death, tears, and grief, names of every polling booth, every district,  every village block. Remember the colours of classroom walls.  Remember the sound of those bricks as they fall. Remember the sight of schools turning to rubble. Even if our eyes burn, remember the names of clerks, and peons, and all your class teachers – Girish Sir, Rambhaiya Miss. Sunita Rani Miss. Javantri Devi Abdul Sir, and Farida Ma&#39;am. Remember to keep them alive even as they gasp and die.To breathe is to suffer To die is to serve To rule is to punish To win is to massacre To kill is to silence To write is to fly To speak is to live To live is to remember –   Girish Sir, Rambhaiya Miss. Sunita Rani Miss. Javantri Devi Abdul Sir, and Farida Ma&#39;am To remember is to learn, Learn the language of power  and politics at play. Know the alphabets of silence and anguish. Decipher the unspoken,  Half-shattered dreams.Someday you will know the truth from the lies. Someday you will know  why the teachers all died. Why classrooms were deserted and playgrounds were on fire. Why schools turned crematoriums who lit the pyres. But you must always remember –  Girish Sir, Rambhaiya Miss. Sunita Rani Miss. Javantri Devi Abdul Sir, and Farida Ma&#39;amAudio: Sudhanva Deshpande is an actor and director with Jana Natya Manch, and an editor with LeftWord Books.

Counting the dead and lessons unlearned

ਡੂੰਘੇ ਵੈਣਾਂ ਦਾ ਕੀ ਮਿਣਨਾ ਤਖ਼ਤ ਦੇ ਪਾਵੇ ਮਿਣੀਏ ਜਦ ਤਕ ਉਹ ਲਾਸ਼ਾ ਗਿਣਦੇ ਨੇ ਆਪਾਂ ਵੋਟਾਂ ਗਿਣੀਏ

মৃতকৰ সংখ্যা গণনা আৰু নিশিকা পাঠ

മരണപ്പെട്ടവരുടെ കണക്കെടുപ്പും പഠിക്കാതെ പോകുന്ന പാഠങ്ങളും

எண்ணப்படும் பிணங்களும் படிக்கப்படாத பாடங்களும்

ଶବ ଗଣନା ଏବଂ ବିସ୍ମୃତ ବହିପାଠ

మృతులని లెక్కించడంలో అక్కరకు రాని పాఠాలు

ہو کے مجبور یہ بچوں کو سبق دینا ہے

हो के मजबूर ये बच्चों को सबक़ देना है

লাশের নামতা আর বিস্মৃত যত পাঠ

 Lucknow

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پاری میں آپ کا خیرمقدم ہے

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Counting the dead and lessons unlearned

Why were the classrooms deserted, the playgrounds on fire? A poem for teachers lost

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