(Samaj Weekly)
There was no blood.
They did not die. That’s not a wrist dismembered in the sand.
Those bricks remained, they didn’t fall
That’s not a machete in his hand.
The stones that cracked were harmed by time
Not harmed by hammers, held in hands
No one’s to blame!
And anyway, who cares? the mosque was nothing except in name.
Decades may pass, or more
And grass will reclaim all this land
Sand fill the eyes, the mouths, the jaws
Lime melt the bones
that smashed these doors.
And still unjust, the violent past
Will be remembered, not forgot
No lessons learnt, nor changes wrought
Simply more efficient killing
More judges bought.
There was no blood, but blood still flows
Girls and women torn to bits
Old men’s bodies stuffed in drains
The system denies the boys it kills
Genocide by any other name.
– Shakuntala Banaji
