Poems by Taslimeh Nasreen
Taslimeh Nasreen is a Bangladeshi writer/poet and activist of
women's rights in the Islamic societies. Much like her British
male counterpart, Salamn Rashdi, she has been target of countless
fatwas and life-threats for the better part of the decade. As
a result, she's been forced to live in hiding for the past
few years. Yet, she has never stopped exposing the vicious
nature of the Islamic fundamentalism.
Following are her reflections on the religious savagery,
plaguing most societies under the yoke of the Islamic
Shari'a laws, in form of two short poems. These poems were
written in the wake of the brutal murder of a young
Bangladeshi women in the hands of the religious fundamentalists.
Nourjahan, a farm-girl from the poverty-stricken
Silhet region in north-east Bangladesh, who had
divorced her husband and remarried, was condemned of adultry,
for her remarriage -- although legal -- was found against
the laws of Shari'a by the village clergy.
They burried her in a pit up to her waist...with her head
hanging. They throw stones at her, stones hit my body.
Stones hit me in the head, my temples, my chest and shoulders...
and they keep throwing stones and laugh
hysterically -- they laugh and shout curses.
Blood is gushing out of Nourjahan's slashed forehead, my
head's bleeding too.
Her eyeballs are ruptured, so are mine.
Her nose is crushed, so is mine.
Her torn heart keeps beating in her slit-open chest,
so is mine. What about you...those stones, don't they hit you?
They laugh loudly, so hard that their beards shake in laughter.
Their Zuchettos move from laughter too.
They laugh and wield their clubs in the air.
Bullets drive from their ruthless eyes
to tear Nourjahan's flesh, and mine... These bullets,
don't they hit you?
Let the places of worship be leveled to the ground...
Let the Mosques, Synagogues, Churches and Sikh-temples
burn in the intrepid fire.
On the ruins, Let the garden of Love grow...and the
scent of the flowers strewn in the air, Let schools
grow for the children.
To the Human, let the places of worship turn into
hospitals, orphanages, schools and universities.
Let the places of worship become the center for Arts
and research, let them become the golden rice-paddies
under the vanguard of the rising sun...
free farmlands, rivers, restless seas hereafter...and
let the religion be called humanity.