TRANSLATED FROM KASHMIRI BY NAGEEN RATHER

The donkey driver Rasul’s eldest daughter had completed her B.A. and then also earned a law degree. Now a small-sized nameplate hung on the gate of their dilapidated house. JALEELA RASUL: BA, LLB.

To Rasul this name plate meant a bright star gracing his forehead.

Today was curfew. Only soldiers were seen on the road. Jala sneaked out of the gate of her house and outside  accosted the army officer in Urdu,

  “Brother, my father has to go across the road. Would you permit him? And he has to come back as well.”

The army officer scanned Rasul from top to the toe. His stance softened a little by both Jala’s beauty and  Rasul’s age and he said to Rasul ,

  “Alright, alright. Go, Uncle.”

Rasul crossed the road. With a cheerful face, Jala returned and cast a proud glance at the nameplate on the gate before stepping inside.

  An hour later, there was a commotion outside; a voice boomed, “Hey, old man, come here!” This was followed by the sound of someone crying. Jala rushed out and saw another army officer mercilessly beating her father. She sprinted to her father, held his arm protectively, and then confronted the officer with a fierce tone:

  “Why are you beating my father? It was your officer who gave him permission to cross!”

  “Girl, stop talking nonsense and get lost.” The officer said scornfully.

Jala’s whole body was overtaken by a burning rage and stomping her foot she retorted:

  “Don’t you have parents? You’re the one talking nonsense!”

  And then, so unexpected  like a thunder striking on a clear day, Jala was struck down, her body crashing to the ground, her chest, neck injured and jaw smashed.

  The next day, after the curfew had been lifted, Rasul stood on the road, tears streaming down his face as he  scoured the ground, searching for something. Without being asked by anyone, he mumbled to himself,

  “My Jala’s broken teeth—they must have fallen around here somewhere.”

Also read Poems — Dhee Sankar, translated from Bengali by Camellia Paul, and published in The Antonym.

Poems — Dhee Sankar

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