Translator’s note:
The human race has seen, sensed, and experienced a lot, probably more than what we can comprehend, in the last few months. Thanks to the lockdowns and myriad safety protocols spawned by the COVID-19 pandemic, life somehow stopped functioning the way it used to.
In India, we saw death from a very close proximity as the deadly second wave of the pandemic swept across the country earlier this year. Many lost their family members, friends or close ones. Those of us who haven’t, were spared from the devastation that pictures floating around showed.
Yet, everyone felt helpless in some way or the other, especially when the health infrastructure began to crumble under pressure and hospitals quickly ran out of beds and Oxygen. Then, one day, something particularly unsettling flashed across news bulletins – corpses floating in the Ganga. These were followed by photographs of these dead bodies buried in shallow graves, covered with saffron sheets, along the sandy banks of the river. Reports claimed they were COVID-19 victims, dumped in the river by their family members who couldn’t find any space in the overfilled crematoria.
The graphic visuals shook something deep inside us. Then came a barrage of statements from the political class. They wanted us to appreciate their supposed competence in handling the pandemic. One report said that no one died due to oxygen shortage. Rather than taking responsibility for the collective failure, political leaders dehumanised the people they serve and routinely use as currency for votes.
Those who perished and ended up in the Ganga – they weren’t just numbers. They were real people with real families who died because of our government lost control of the situation.
This poem by Gujarati poet, Parul Khakhar, originally penned in Gujarati in June 2021, captures the angst and helplessness of the devastating second wave. This is my translation of her poem. I hope it helps you reflect on your own ideology and politics. I hope you find an answer to a few questions:
Is defending the government worth it? Is it more important than building an empathetic nation? Is it more important than peoples’ lives?
Corpse-Carrying Ganga
In unison, the corpses said ‘sab kuch changa changa’ (all is well)
Saheb, in your ram rajya flows the corpse-carrying Ganga
Ended have all the space in your crematoriums, ended have the sack of woods
Tired are all our shoulders, eyes have been emptied
In every home, the Yamdut goes and plays
The dance of death dissymmetrical
Saheb, in your ram rajya flows the corpse-carrying Ganga.
The pyres burning all the time
For a moment, begs for relief
The endless shattering of bangles
In every house, beats its chest
Look at the fire emerging as you play fiddle ‘Billa Ranga’
Saheb, in your ram rajya flows the corpse-carrying Ganga.
Saheb, godly are your clothes, divine is your vision
I wish people understood the reality
You are a stone, not a gem
If you have guts, come forward and say
‘My Saheb is naked’
Saheb, in your ram rajya flows the corpse carrying Ganga.
Views expressed in the translator’s note are the author’s own.
Featured image for representational purpose only: Ganga River, Maxpixel.
is a poet and commentator from Assam. He has written on cultural and political issues for several publications, such as Frontier, The Quint, Countercurrents, Janata Weekly, and Culture Matters.
