15th December, 2019Truth has been humiliated, abused, and beaten on the streets of dil(li) and so I am asked to cover my grief-stricken body for they fear of being exposed of their dirty politics. My dil is a colourless country where truth has died several bloodless death at the feet of autocracy.
29 September, 2020Star-studded men cremate a young body with breathing soul under the darkness of lies before it was finally engulfed by horrors of patriarchy. And you still wonder why the sky is empty and the world a dark place to live in.
19th May, 2021My hands reach for flowers that are taking their last breath and your hands have throttled them. They all are lying like dead persons scattered on ground near the shore of Gangs as if struck by pandemic.
19th Jan, 2022The newspaper in Abba’s hands is developing teeth and it bites him as if it is its nature to hurt. Abba says that the pain isn’t that all hurtful to him as to the man who lost his son to not-so-patriotic goons.
20th April, 2022Our house was no less than a hunched woman left to die when it was finally brought down by a bulldozer yet we carry resilience like fire burning in our chest. I wish they knew that those who sleep under sky of grief doesn’t complain of insomnia.
(Notes from a journal that needs to be heard)
~Farheen Sahban
Aligarh, India