And miles to go… (10 years of a journey)
2012
2012
Noorjahan Diwan, Shabnam Hashmi, Sofiya Khan, Sayeda Hameed, and Zakia Soman
Anhad
pp. 150
This short book is one of the most powerful books that I have come across. I was a bit disappointed when the book began with a disclaimer on not having been proof read or edited. But I carried on and I am glad I did. Even before going into the details, I am recommending this book, to anyone who believes in tolerance, if not acceptance, of diversity.
The book presents narratives of five women and their experiences of surviving and working with victims of the 2002 conflicts in Gujarat. The narratives are powerful and depict the journey of these women as activists, sometimes fighting conservatism at home and even finding and/or reclaiming their identities. A recurring theme is being seen only as Muslim and not as anything else. This reduction of one’s identity and simplifying it to a category, that is most often not chosen, is deeply disturbing. I have to admit, that by the end of the book, I skipped ten pages from Hashmi’s writing because I could not find the courage to read about the torture meted out to women. I could not tolerate reading, imagining what these women experienced and hesitatingly, fearfully spoke about. It reminded me of my weakness(es). It also reminded me of my (and I am sure others’) weak memory. I will wake up tomorrow and bury these stories in my sub conscious and carry on. Reminds me of a poem by Carl Sandburg:
Terrible storms pass over me
I forget.
I forget.
The best of me is sucked out and wasted.
I forget.
I forget.
Everything but Death comes to me and
makes me work and give up what I have. And I
forget.
Sometimes I growl,
shake myself
and spatter a few red drops
for history to remember.
Then—I forget.
When I, the People, learn to remember,
when I, the People,
use the lessons of yesterday
and no longer forget
who robbed me last year,
who played me for a fool—
then there will be no speaker in all the world
say the name: “The People,”
with any fleck of a sneer in his voice
or any far-off smile of derision.
The mob—the crowd—the mass—
will arrive then.
These narratives serve to shake us, remind us of what we have stood by and watched, and let happen. There can be many criticisms of this book. It presents a single version of the story, an incomplete one, a hurriedly researched one. It is not appropriately edited. The stories jumble up and your head explodes with all the images of gore. Yet, this is an important book. One that makes you think and question. I hope.