Categories
Editorial

“We are the World”

In 1985, famous artistes, many of whom are no longer with us, collaborated on the song, We are the World, to raise funds to feed children during the Ethiopian famine (1983-85). The song was performed together by Michael Jackson, Willie Nelson, Bob Dylan, Ray Charles, Diana Ross, Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson, Paul Simon, Tina Turner, Dionne Warwick, Lionel Richie, Billy Joel and Bruce Springsteen.  The producer, Julia Nottingham, said: “It’s a celebration of the power of creativity and the power of collective humanity.” The famine was attributed to ‘war and drought’.

Over the last few years, we have multiple wars creating hunger and drought caused by disruptions. Yet, the world watches and the atrocities continue to hurt common people, the majority who just want to live and let live, accept and act believing in the stories created by centuries of civilisation. As Yuval Noah Harari points out in a book written long before the current maladies set in, Homo Deus (2015), “…the stories are just tools. They should not become our goals or our yardsticks. When we forget that they are mere fiction, we lose touch with reality. Then we begin entire wars ‘to make a lot of money for the corporation’ or ‘to protect the national interest’. Corporations, money and nations exist only in our imagination. We invented them to serve us; why do we find ourselves sacrificing our lives in their service?”

What Harari says had been said almost ninety years ago by a voice from another region, by a man who suffered but wrote beautiful poetry, Jibanananda Das… and here are his verses —

“The stories stored in my soul will eventually fade. New ones—
New festivals—will replace the old — in life’s honey-tinged slight.”

Jibananda Das, from ‘Ghumiye Poribe Aami’ (I’ll fall asleep), 1934, translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam

We carry the poem in this issue translated by Professor Fakrul Alam, lines that makes one dream of a better future. These ideas resonate in modern Balochi poet Ali Jan Dad’s ‘Roll Up Not the Mat’ brought to us in English by Fazal Baloch. Korean poet Ihlwha Choi’s translation takes us to longing filled with nostalgic hope while Tagore’s ‘Probhat’ (Dawn) gives a glimpse of a younger multi-faceted visionary dwell on the wonders of a perfect morning imbibing a sense of harmony with nature.

“I feel blessed for this sky, so luminous. 
I feel blessed to be in love with the world.”

--‘Probhat’ (Dawn) by Tagore, 1897, translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty

Starting a new year on notes of hope, of finding new dreams seems to be a way forward for humanity does need to evolve out of self-imposed boundaries and darknesses and move towards a new future with narratives and stories that should outlive the present, outlive the devastating impact of climate change and wars by swapping our old narratives for ones that will help us harmonise with the wonders we see around us… wonders created by non-human hands or nature.

We start this year with questions raised on the current world by many of our contributors. Professor Alam in his essay makes us wonder about the present as he cogitates during his morning walks. Niaz Zaman writes to us about a change maker who questioned and altered her part of the world almost a century ago, Begum Roquiah. Can we still make such changes in mindsets as did Roquiah? And yet again, Ratnottama Sengupta pays homage to a great artiste, filmmaker Shyam Benegal, who left us in December 2024 just after he touched 90. Other non-fictions include musings by Nusrat Jan Esa on human nature contextualising it with Milton’s Paradise Lost (1667); Farouk Gulsara’s account of a fire in Sri Lanka where he was visiting and Suzanne Kamata’s column from Japan on the latest Japanese Literary Festival in the Fukushimaya prefecture, the place where there was a nuclear blast in 2011. What is amazing is the way they have restored the prefecture in such a short time. Their capacity to bounce back is exemplary! Devraj Singh Kalsi shares a tongue-in-cheek musing about the compatibility of banks and writers.

Rhys Hughes’ poem based on the photograph of a sign is tongue-in- cheek too. But this time we also have an unusual exploration of horror with wry humour in his column. Michael Burch shares a lovely poem about a hill that was planted by his grandfather and is now claimed as state property… Afsar Mohammad explores hunger in his fasting poems and Aman Alam gives heart rending verses on joblessness. Poems by Kirpal Singh contextualise Shakespearian lore to modern suffering. We have more poems by Kiriti Sengupta, Michelle Hillman, Jenny Middleton, G Javaid Rasool, Stephen Druce, John Grey, George Freek and many others — all exploring multiple facets of life. We also have a conversation with Kiriti Sengupta on how he turned to poetry from dentistry!

Exploring more of life around us are stories by Sohana Manzoor set in an expat gathering; by Priyatham Swamy about a migrant woman from Nepal and by Naramsetti Umamaheswararao set against rural Andhra Pradesh. While Ahmad Rayees gives a poignant, touching story set in a Kashmiri orphanage, Paul Mirabile reflects on the resilience of a child in a distant Greek island. Mirabile’s stories are often a throwback to earlier times.

In this issue, our book excerpts explore a writer of yore too, one that lived almost a hundred years ago, S. Eardley-Wilmot (1852-1929), a conservationist and one who captures the majesty of nature, the awe and the wonder like Tagore or Jibanananda with his book, The Life of an Elephant. The other book takes us to contemporary Urdu writers but in Kolkata —Contemporary Urdu Stories from Kolkata, translated by Shams Afif Siddiqi and edited by Shams Afif Siddiqi and Fuzail Asar Siddiqi. A set of translated stories of the well-known Bengali writer, Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay by Hiranmoy Lahiri, brought out in a book called Kaleidoscope of Life: Select Short Stories has been reviewed by Somdatta Mandal. Malashri Lal has discussed Basudhara Roy’s A Blur of a Woman. Roy herself has explored Afsar Mohammad’s Fasting Hymns. Bhaskar Parichha has taken us to Sri Lanka with a discussion on a book on Sri Lanka, Return to Sri Lanka: Travels in a Paradoxical Island by an academic located in Singapore, Razeen Sally.

Bringing together varied voices from across the world and ages, one notices recurring themes raising concerns for human welfare and for the need to conserve our planet. To gain agency, it is necessary to have many voices rise in a paean to humanity and the natural world as they have in this start of the year issue.  

I would like to thank all those who made this issue possible, our team and the contributors. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I cannot stop feeling grateful to Sohana Manzoor for her fabulous artwork too, art that blends in hope into the pages of Borderless Journal. As all our content has not been mentioned here, I invite you to pause by our content’s page to explore more of our exciting fare. Huge thanks to all readers for you make our journey worthwhile.

I would hope we can look forward to this year as being one that will have changes for the better for all humanity and the Earth… so that we still have our home a hundred years from now, even if it looks different.

Wish you a year filled with new dreams.

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

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Categories
Poetry

Balochi Poem by Ali Jan Dad

Translated by Fazal Baloch

Ali Jan Dad
ROLL UP NOT THE MAT 

Death is a state
That leaves grief in its wake,
Tearing souls from their loved ones.
In the sieve of this moment,
We must not divide “ours” from “others.”
We are dwellers of the jungle.
For nature’s tidings—
Be it the heart or the hut—
We must not roll up the mat.
Before me came my father,
And before him, my grandfather—
Weavers of sacred customs.
We have taken every shade of the jungle,
Draped ourselves in its colours.
The jungle has its customs:
Nurture envy and hatred
As tenderly as you nurture love.
Never to strike a hungry foe.
You, a soldier from the enemy’s ranks,
Who come to slay my people—
Eat your fill before you go,
For hunger lies ahead.
Do you see these towering peaks,
These treacherous ravines?
My sons, brave as lions,
Know them better than you ever will.
They wait for you,
Hidden in the trenches.
The jungle may show you no way out.
My brothers, fierce as tigers,
Have mastered the craft of survival.
We are dwellers of the jungle.
And you, a soldier from the enemy’s ranks,
Have come to our land
Sit. Eat. Leave with a full stomach.
For in the jungle, it is custom
Never to strike a hungry foe.
I will not let blood
Stain the sanctity of my tradition.
Whether in war or peace,
For nature’s tidings—
Be it the heart or the hut—
We must not roll up the mat.

Ali Jan Dad is a prominent figure in contemporary Balochi literature. He wields equal command over both the genres of ghazal and nazm. Primarily, he is a poet of love and romance, and his poetry is imbued with a melodious and lyrical finesse. Additionally, he addresses the objective issues of life and the complexities of human existence in a highly artistic manner. So far, two collections of his poetry—Dróháp (The Mirage, 2009) and Róchay Sáheg (The Sun-Shade, 2013) have been published. The translated poem has been taken from his website Kodacha.com and is presented here with his permission.

Fazal Baloch is a Balochi writer and translator. He has translated many Balochi poems and short stories into English. His translations have been featured in Pakistani Literature published by Pakistan Academy of Letters and in the form of books and anthologies. Fazal Baloch has the translation rights of of this poem from the poet. 

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