Pratishtha Pandya

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“Holy Smoke!” she exclaimed, putting her cup of morning filter coffee down. Holding her phone with both her hands now, she read it aloud for her husband, who was busy with his office email: “16 migrant workers run over by goods train near Aurangabad in Maharashtra – did you see this? What the hell is going on?” It was another minute before numbness took over and the coffee was cool enough to be taken in small gulps with the rest of the story. “Gosh! How many of these people – and where all they come from?” The surprise in her voice this time was more subdued than before.“Part of this lot they say was from Umaria. Did we not go to this place last December, Manu?” The mention of that vacation made him look up briefly and humour her before going back to the wretched emails. “Yes,” he said. “Bandharvgarh National Park. In one of the most backward districts in the state of Madhya Pradesh. No wonder those guys came all the way to Jalna looking for work. But to sleep on the tracks? How ridiculous could they get?”“Oh, it was so beautiful,” she seemed to be back on another planet, “remember Shesh Shaiya? That magnificent statue of Vishnu and the quiet spring surrounded by lush green sal forests... we must go there again once this lockdown ends...”

Who?Who exiled them? Who closed the doors behind them? Who left them to wander from place to place? Who took away their livelihoods? Who placed obstacles on the roads? Who put them under house arrest? Who returned them their forgotten dreams again? Who added sizzling sighs to the hungry fire in their bellies?Who choked their parched throats with some moist memory? Home, courtyard, village, the edge of the farm and the sweet voices of the little ones… Who? Who packed all these along with those dry rotis and hot chilly chutney?   Who filled each dry morsel with drowsy hopes?I swear, the Sal sleeper under the railway track must have done it invoking the forests at the edge of the village Otherwise who would be so stupid to offer them silken mattresses stuffed with dreams there?  Who would put a curse on the sixteen brothers of Bandhavgarh to turn them to stone?Who would have made not one, not two,   but sixteen Vishnus sleep on the Shaishnag? Who would have made   the crimson red Chandraganga bleed from their toes? Who would have left those slippers on the tracks? The gods will punish us!Who would have left those half-eaten rotis on the tracks? Who?

Labani Jangi

Translated by the author from her original poem in Gujarati.Audio: Sudhanva Deshpande is an actor and director with Jana Natya Manch, and an editor with LeftWord Books. Note: The names  of the labourers who died, as published in the <a href="https://www.lokmat.com/aurangabad/names-those-killed-aurangabad-train-accident-vrd/">Marathi daily, Lokmat</a>:1. Dhansingh Gond 2. Nirvesh Singh Gond 3. Buddharaj Singh Gond 4. Achchelal Singh 5. Rabendra Singh Gond, 6. Suresh Singh Kaul 7. Rajbohram Paras Singh 8. Dharmendra Singh Gond 9. Virendra Singh Chainsingh 10. Pradeep Singh Gond 11. Santosh Napit 12. Brijesh Bheyadin 13. Munimsingh Shivratan Singh 14. Shridayal Singh 15. Nemshah Singh 16. Deepak Singh

Locked-down with blood on the tracks

ರಕ್ತಸಿಕ್ತ ರೈಲಿನ ಕಂಬಿಗಳು ಮತ್ತು ಲಾಕ್ ಡೌನ್

রক্তের ছাপ গুণে, পুর্ণিমা চাঁদ নামে রেললাইনে

टाळेबंदीत रेल्वेरुळांवर रक्ताचे पाट

લોકડાઉનમાં પાટા ઉપર લોહી

தண்டவாளத்தில் ரத்தம் சிந்தவிட்ட ஊரடங்கு

তলাবন্ধত তেজে তুমৰলি ৰেলপথ

لاک ڈاؤن میں خون سے سرابور ریل پٹریاں

लॉकडाउन में ख़ून से लथपथ रेल पटरियां

ରକ୍ତ‌ ‌ରଞ୍ଜିତ‌ ‌ତାଲା-ବନ୍ଦ‌

Aurangabad

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ہمارے بارے میں جانیں

پاری میں آپ کا خیرمقدم ہے

گے۔ اگر آپ کو ہمارا کام پسند ہے، تو آپ ہمارے رضاکار بن کر ہمارا تعاون کر سکتے ہیں یا ہماری مالی مدد کر سکتے ہیں، تاکہ ہم اپنا کام جاری رکھ سکیں۔

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Locked-down with blood on the tracks

The 16 labourers – 8 of them Gond Adivasis – run over by a goods train on May 8 near Aurangabad district in Maharashtra were all in their 20s and 30s, and from Umaria and Shahdol districts of Madhya Pradesh

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