47 Partition

47 Jaspreet Kaur

47

Let’s talk about that year
That year that led our soil to be rich with tears
And as it appears, the judgment has been made
Muslims there, Hindu there, and well, Sikhs, you can end up anywhere
Forget your forefathers son, what defines them means nothing now
You can watch the setting of the sun from your side, behind your line
Put down your shotgun, leave it there with your zameen.

Fourteen? Fourteen million.
Fourteen million uprooted from their homes, like roots of a tree.
Ripped out of the ground that they belong to
And it won’t be long before they make weak out of the strong
Remove them
Displaced
Son, let go from that embrace
That’s not our home anymore
You can watch the kites soar from the your side, behind your line.

We didn’t even have a chance to fight a war
We didn’t even have a chance for our lions to roar
Because we were all so sure that independence is here
That’s not independence my dear
That’s just a remembrance that the colonialists ruled us and always will
Like a pill, drugging us with opium until we are too blind to see our worth
And here we are crying for a rebirth, a change
Well isn’t that strange? This was meant for our own good
This was meant to be what we want…

I see a corpse filled train?
Now tell me, how will I explain that the dead were refrained from being cremated?
How will I get it in their brains that their remains
Their skin and their manes won’t mix with the rain and flow into the rivers of my Panjab.

Five rivers.

Yet three are exclusively there, two are here
Tell me how is that fair?
Whilst you sit there at the border every day at sunset and you cheer
Border, border, bringing some world order?
Losing more than three quarters, burn down those borders
This wasn’t migration
This was mass movement
This wasn’t an improvement

Listen closely my dear, give me your ear
Blood is still spilling in the lands of Kashmir
Wake up from this illusion of freedom and independence
Or continue to sleep into a nightmare
Because we have been living a lie since that very year.

47.

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