Fehmida

by Zainab Soni

In this silent room, 

clothes once sewn with colour

are now monochrome

almari ko aesay aazaab kay liyay kon tayar karta hai? 

eighty people on a screen

the aaamil begins to read.

i look at the glass of water,

kahin zalzala toh nahi aaraha?

the only, coherent language; to touch,

now forbidden for all

aur alfaaz toh bus aavaaz hain; sabr, afsos, taziyaat

kya kisi ko inka matlab pata hai?

only after the passing

comes the repentance

it sinks in

kyu nahi bola?

“kabhi ulta jawab nahi diya”

“kabhi shiqayaat nahi thi”

“kabhi khfaa nahi huwi”

a circle of stories

thanday dil aur dimag wali 

khoon, paseena aur aasooun say 

aag bhujane wali

we arrive at the place where

fresh petals meet burnt ones

where the weak-kneed fall to the soil

to recite qul at every aisle

like bodies, noses and smiles

if i didn't inherit this belief 

how would i know how to grieve

“sab allah ki marzi hai”

a walk to the trees

salaam to the deceased

she stares at the void in ground, says

“yahan humari jaga rakhi hai”

i stand here frozen

ice cold in the poison sun 

wondering what it feels

to be close