FOR PUBLICATION
AHRC-ART-002-2008
April 18, 2008

An Article Series on Human Rights and Culture

This is the second issue of Human Rights and Culture. This issue contains poems by Wimalaratne Kumaragame (Sri Lanka), a 20th century Sri Lankan poet who wrote in Sinhala, Bulleh Shah a 16th Century Punjabi poet, Sarvesvar Dayal Saxena, a contemporary India poet writing in the Hindi language, K.G. Sankarapillai, a contemporary Indian poet writing in Malayalam and Basil Fernando, a contemporary Sri Lankan poet writing in both Sinhala and English.

You may view the previous issue at: http://www.ahrchk.net/statements/mainfile.php/2008statements/1469/

Your contributions and comments for future issues can be sent to ahrchk@ahrchk.org

A poem by Wimalaratne Kumaragame (a translation)

Herat Hami

Herat Hami who lived in Aliya Watunu Wawe*1
Even someone like me was more important than him
Though Harat Hami cut dead bodies*2
He was twenty, thirty times more decent than me

In the hospital of Aliya Watunu Wawe
He spent his time removing night soil
Though he lived happily with a monthly salary
Whenever I saw him I was moved with sadness

A hard, wiry body, handsome and thin
Not much of age, fresh and young
No wife as yet
I was perplexed by the job he did

Making someone like me sad
Each day he carried my excrement
If someone dies suddenly
Doctor comes
He cut the dead bodies in front of us

None from the farmer, worker or elite caste
Ever did such a job
No known disease of mind he had
He did no harm to any dwellers of the forest

He spread a docile smile
Every word of his spread ahimsa
Every evening he drank burning water
His heart overflowed with kindness

His sister was stabbed
Recalling her my eyes get wet
He did not cry the day his sister died
When she had a fever he wailed with tears in his eyes

When his younger sister died he went with a doctor
Her dead body was cut by Herat Hami
Though the villagers blamed him in harsh words for this
He did not care much about the world's violent flesh
As he was not born in a rich mansion
He went to the temple at every Poya
He was a member of the newly built stupa
Even more than that he respected Iyyenayaka*3

Explanation of some local terms and expressions:
*1(The Tank Where the Elephant Fell – the name of a rural village)
*2 It was customary some time back for a lower ranking employee to do the cutting of the dead body while the doctor was doing the autopsy. This custom still prevails in many parts of India.
*3 A popular god figure among the rural folk in Sri Lanka

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Wimalaratne Kumaragame was one of the well known names among the groups of poets who are known as Colombo poets. This group of poets wrote poetry on matters close to the ordinary folk of Sri Lanka. They usually followed the four-lined stanzas or traditional poetic expression. However, their language was simple and at one time in almost all Sinhala households their poems were sung.

Wimalaratne Kumaragame was unique among these poets due to his deep understanding of the rural folk in the remotest villages. He was a civil servant and therefore would have been a well educated person and having taken a great interest in the people he worked for he was able to get inside their psyche. He can be said to be the poet of the folk psychology in Sri Lanka. Like this poem, he wrote several others regarding rural folk, demonstrating their inner character and their spirit. Thus, his poetry helps us to understand the folk spirit of Sri Lanka.

Much of Sri Lankan literature after about the 10th century was influenced by the Sanskrit language and literature which came through Indian invasions after the Anuradhapura period that ended around 1070 AD. The imitation of various forms borrowed from Sanskrit literature became quite a pastime. In fact, it can be said the rigid adherence to form became part of the Sri Lankan mind and psyche during this period. It was also during this period that a very rigid caste system was introduced into Sri Lanka. Rigid social stratification and extremely rigid social consciousness is part of the inheritance of this period of history. As a result much of Sri Lankan poetry of the subsequent centuries does not show very much of a folk spirit.

Separately, there was a folk poetry and, in fact, it became a normal activity among the rural folk to express themselves through poetry. There were even traditions of spontaneous creation of poems and poetry contests where different people would try to reply to opponents by way of poetry. It is this folk poetry that influenced the Colombo poets.

When the poetry loses its connection with the folk the poetry itself loses its power and beauty. From the mid 20th century there developed a branch of poetry known as free verse (Nisadas). This was an attempt to break away from the formal four-line stanza style and to choose styles which did not conform to any particular pattern. More well-known poets of this group belonged to the newly educated graduates from Sinhala backgrounds. The newly educated were also assimilating themselves into the elite or middle classes and they sought their audience in these social groups. The result was that poetry became disentangled from the folk and due to this it lost its power. This movement of free verse is now an accepted part of poetry writing but the work of these poets has failed to have the same appeal to the ordinary folk as did the poetry of the Colombo poets like Wimalaratne Kumaragame.

Underneath the poetic expressions of Wimalaratne Kumaragame it is not difficult to perceive a sense of indignation about what was being done to the rural folk during this time. In giving expression to their lives he also expresses their suffering, who, despite of such suffering were able to maintain their dignity and balance. Also there is an expression of defiance.

Among the Sri Lankan poets of the 20th century Wimalaratne Kumaragame enjoys a unique place. His work and the memory of his work needs to be revived, particularly the folk spirit that he brought into Sinhala poetry needs to be brought back to life. Whether a Sri Lankan poet writes in Sinhala, Tamil or English is not the real issue, the issue is whether he can express the folk spirit in a way Wimalaratne Kumaragame was able to do in his time.

(Translation and comment by Basil Fernando)

Four poems by Bulleh Shah (translations)

Who I am

I know not who I am,
I am neither a believer going to the mosque
Nor given to non-believing ways.
Neither clean nor unclean,
Neither Moses nor Pharaoh.
I know not who I am.

I am neither among sinners nor among saints,
Neither happy nor unhappy,
I belong neither to water nor to earth.
I am neither fire nor air,
I know not who I am.

Neither do I know the secret of religion,
Nor am I born of Adam and Eve.
I have given myself no name,
I belong neither to those who squat and pray,
Nor to those who have gone astray.
I know not who I am.

I was in the beginning; I'd be there in the end.
I know not any one other than the One.
Who could be wiser than Bulleh Shah
Whose Master is ever there to tend?
I know not who I am.

Come my Love, take care of me

Come my Love, take care of me,
I am in great agony.
Ever separated, my dreams are dreary,
Looking for you, my eyes are weary.
All alone I am robbed in a desert,
Waylaid by a bunch of waywards.

The Mulla and Qazi show me the way,
Their maze of dharma that is in sway.
They are the confirmed thieves of time.
They spread their net of saintly crime.
 
Their time-worn norms are seldom right,
With these they chain my feet so tight!
My love cares not for caste or creed.
To the ritual faith I pay no head.

My Master lives on yonder bank
While I am caught in the gale of greed.
With his boat at anchor, He stands in wait,
I must hasten I can’t be late.

Bulleh Shah must find his love,
He needn’t have the least fright.
His Love is around, yet he looks for him
Misled in the broad daylight.

Come my love take care of me,
I am in great agony.

Strange are the times!

Crows swoop on hawks
Sparrows do eagles stalk
Strange are the times!
 
The Iraqis are despised
While the donkeys are prized
Strange are the times!
 
Those with coarse blankets are kings;
The erstwhile kings watch them from the ring.
Strange are the times!

Its not without reason or rhyme,
Strange are the times

Says Bulleh, kill your ego
And throw away your pride.
You need to forget yourself
To find Him by your side.

It’s all in One contained

Understand the One and forget the rest.
Shake off your ways of an apostate pest.
Leading to the grave to hell and torture,
Rid your mind of dreams of disaster.
This is how is the argument maintained,
It’s all in One contained.
 
What use is it bowing one’s head?
To what avail has prostrating led?
Reading Kalma you make them laugh,
Absorbing not a word while the Quran you quaff.
The truth must be here and there sustained,
It’s all in One contained.

Some retire to the jungles in vain.
Others restrict their meals to a grain.
Misled they waste away unfed
And come back home half alive, half dead.
Emaciated in the ascetic postures feigned,
it’s all in One contained,

Seek your master, say your prayers and surrender to God,

It will lead you to mystic abandon
And help you to get attuned to the Lord.
It’s all the truth that Bulleh has gained.
It’s all in One contained.

Bulleh Shah, a renowned Muslim spiritual leader of the sub continent of Indo-Pakistan, was a Punjabi Sufi poet. His spiritual master was Shah Inayat Qadiri of Lahore and because of this Bulleh was referred to as a saint or spiritual leader. Bulleh's real name was Abdullah Shah, but he was known as Bulleh to his family and that was the name he chose to use as a poet.

Bulleh came from a religious family and his father was a highly religious person. Bulleh wrote primarily in Punjabi, but also in the locally spoken language, Siraiki, which is often considered a dialect of Punjab.

The verse form Bulleh Shah primarily employed is called the Kafi, a style of Punjabi, Sindhi and Siraiki poetry used not only by the Sufis of Sindh and Punjab, but also by Sikh gurus. He held a spiritual position in the eyes of his followers, who were from all over the world, but he was a very secular man who was against the division of human beings for religious reasons. Bulleh Shah’s poetry and philosophy strongly criticizes the Islamic religious orthodoxy of his days. His poetry is filled with direct attacks, to the point of comparing ‘Mullahs’, the religious leaders, to barking dogs and crowing roosters.
Bulleh Shah is considered to be one of the greatest mystic poets of the Punjabi region. However, the mullahs refused to allow him to be buried in the community graveyard because of his unorthodox views

Bulleh Shah lived from 1680 to 1757 during the period of the Mughal King Aurangzeb, who was the most communal and orthodox Muslim ruler the subcontinent ever faced. His time was marked with communal strife between Muslims and Sikhs.  But in that age Bulleh Shah was a beacon of hope and peace for the citizens of Punjab. While Bulleh Shah was in Pandoke, Muslims killed a young Sikh man who was riding through their village in retaliation for the murder of some Muslims by Sikhs. Bulleh Shah denounced the murder of an innocent Sikh and was censured by the Mullas and Muftis of Pandoke. Bulleh Shah maintained that violence was not the answer to violence.

Bulleh Shah himself became a respected scholar, but he longed for true inner realization. Against the objections of his peers, he became a disciple of Inayat Shah, a famous master of the Qadiri Sufi lineage (Islamic), who ultimately guided his student to deep mystical awakening.

The nature of Bulleh Shah's realization led to such a profound egolessness and non-concern for social convention that it has been the source of many popular comical plays. For example, one day Bulleh Shah saw a young woman eagerly waiting for her husband to return home. Seeing how, in her anticipation, she braided her hair, Bulleh Shah deeply identified with the devoted way she prepared herself for her beloved. So Bulleh Shah dressed himself as a woman and braided his own hair, before rushing to see his teacher, Inayat Shah.
(This note was prepared by Baseer Naveed on the basis of research into several sources on Bulleh Shah)

A Poem by Sarvesvar Dayal Saxena

Lu Xun and the birds

In my childhood I had seen Lu Xun roaming in the mango groves of my village,
Chatting with old men in barns, smoking pipe and playing with young men in fields all se to be harvested 
You often find him now roaming dense jungles.
“you, here?”
“yes birds have held me back.”
“birds?”
“in this jungles bullets are fired and birds get scared.”
“Is any one hunting?.”
“birds do not interest hunters any more”.
“Good . But why then this fear?”
“fear there is … the gunshots are heard and they take off .
scared , spanning the jungle like a canopy. And when they return, they settle on treetops, terrorized”.
“why?”

“they say they often see dead bodies tied to trees . They live in the fear that they the tree thaey perch on would be one of those . they believe such trees cease to be trees. Their  leaves cease to be trees . Flames leap upward from these trees and their leaves smoulder like embers . The birds cannot perch and nest . They fear the whole jungle will be aflame one day .”

“do the birds recognize the dead bodies ?”
“no . no one recognizes them”.
“Do the dead bodies belong to the well groomed and well fed?”
“No , often the weak and beggarly . Be brave and full of courage. They love trees and birds. They are drunk with the idea of turning the jungle into heaven.”

“what are you doing?”

“I understand the birds quite a bit . I try to tell them that they should swoop, all together , on those who tie men to trees and shoot. If they do so before the shots are fired they won’t have to see these bad days .”

“But the guns can be trained at them too.”

“No guns carry enough bullets to wipe off millions . And if attacked by hordes , the gun wielding hands will tremble . They will drop their guns . This is what iam saying to teach them . Many have understood . but in this jungle there are all types of birds . Speaking many tongues  . Their colours are different . They take some time to fathom all this . but soon I will learn their ways and teach them all . And make them one … free from fear .”

It was late evening . I was eager to come out of the jungle.

I bade him good bye in a hurry  and set out . He was going to the interiors and the birds have encircled him . No bird looked my way .

For I have not visited the jungles but I know for certain that Lu Xun is there.

By now he must have learnt their different languages . after a few days bullets will not be fired anymore and birds will twitter and sing fearlessly .

(Courtesy: People Hanging from the Pegs by Sarvesvar dayal Sakxena
Translated in to English by Vijay Munshi)

Sarvesvar Dayal Saxena (1927-83) is one of the finest poets in Modern Hindi poetry . His poetry was an advance  in modern hindi poetry  which was fast changing in  response to the breakdown of values and in protest against the establishment.

A Poem by K.G. Sankarapillai

Dear Che

Dear Che,
you came to our university campus
in mid sixties 
with a comrade and a modernist friend
with visuals of jungles past and present 
with a vision of a new battle for justice.

Like a fresh wind of October
you  joined us
moved  us
renewed  us
and smoothened our entry into history
with love, dreams and plans.

You told us about the sleeping rebel powers
of mountains and forests of the new minds;
quite often  you talked of the day when
‘the Andes would become
the Sierra Maestra of America.’ 
 
Our modernist friend said:
you are the red star over the world
tarnished by America;
you are the future of the world
crippled by America;
you are the Jesus of the modern age
crucified by America.

Although  you remained evergreen in us
showed us the exit to the oceans
from the lyrical ponds of our
post Independent  Indian youth;
the exit to the storm from the water lily breeze
of our weeping  romantic poems;
dear doctor, you redefined us
living with us
living for us
living in us
passing the confidence of torrents into our deserts
weaving sunlit paths into our prodigal nights.

You brought world into our words
and future into our past.
You opened blast-furnaces for our ore.

This poem was Translated from Malayalam by A. Lakshmi. The poem was part of a anthology ‘Che in Verse’, edited by Garvin O’Toole and Georgina Gimenez which was published by Aflame Books. K.G.Sankarapillai has won the National Award for Poetry in India on two occasions.

A poem by Basil Fernando

The Blood she sheds

The blood she sheds
Is hers
Red and creative
Promising and life giving
She is truly the earth

Where then is the source
This destruction
Wanton shedding of blood
Erasing hopes and wooing death
Truly not from her earth

Basil Fernando is a Sri Lankan poet and has published several collections of poems. An anthology of his poems entitled, Sundramaithry, has been translated into Malayalam by Dr. Dhanya Menon, and published in 2008. This is the first anthology of Sri Lankan poetry translated into any India language. His writings may be seen at www.basilfernando.net under literature.

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The Asian Human Rights Commission is pleased to announce the start of the Culture and Human Rights column. We will regularly publish various cultural expressions, poem, stories, pictures and other forms of cultural expression that are based on the theme of justice. A pivotal issue in modern literature is justice, particularly the enormous unleashing of injustice under fascist, communist and other authoritarian regime including those that pursue an unbridled market economy have generated responses from created writers. This search for justice is at the very essence of being human. Human beings are part of nature and part of each other. Perhaps the lines of John Donne are most relevant: “…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde;”

Contemporary mass culture promotes violence and destruction. There are those who are opposed to mass culture and want to reclaim the best traditions of human culture within which justice remains a core issue. This column will provide space for those who wish to share their creative initiatives.