Poem by Mozibul Hoque Moni
Leave it as breaking hearsay!
Bilkis, a girl of year five was raped.
She was raped and blessed by a preacher of ‘Modorsa’!
She was raped and hanged to die!
Some poor villagers are slamming their chest.
Pain of the mourners turn into helpless tears!
Their screaming was shaking the sky of Narshingdi.
Rina was raped by a bus aide.
A frightened cry of Rina’s mum was tempting;
“How it is possible to arrange her marry now?
We are poor, no money!
Who will marry her?”
Can you believe that?
Are they a species of 21st Century?
Is their dignity still on the scale?
Is their liberty still caged into the invisible custody?
Victims are noble creature not just women.
Victims are mums, sisters, daughters’ not just women.
Victims are women, the sculpture of civilization.
Who’s judging them? Judging their indemnity?
Me? You? We? You?
Flag your remark! Flag the dignity of women!
If you can’t, leave them as Breaking Hearsay!
Who broke my toys; my mum’s ‘Dabka-hula’?
Who ruined my Eden; my colourful peninsula?
Who fadeout my ancestral grandeur?
So, I become a volatile asylum seeker.
The land I was born in to having breathe,
A trauma has thrust me; threw me into filth.
I was playing ‘Soran’ with pals-
A hasty lanyard enveloped us before shelling falls!
Then we were apart from all ties,
Bloodcurdling drove away the peaceful flies.
I’m running away from borders to borders,
Like the flock of sheep moving to strange orders.
What’s driving us? What’s our destination?
No one have the chart or provision.
The monsters fouled my unblemished air,
My sunny Jazira turned into frail and brier.
Now I am travelling under different skies,
With an uncertain living and endless cries.
My mum’s cradle was my world, my pride,
It’s my witty means of seek and hide.
I’m a child of earth with right to live,
Who is pushing me to the state of Bereave?
My asylum only to God; who created me,
There is a courtyard waiting for thee and me!