Has he left? Are you leaving? by Lakhmi
[I]
"When someone is executed, they are asked what their last wish is. We were not asked even that. 'We will tell the date, we will tell the date' and look where they have brought us today. You tell us what sense to make of this? First they came and wrote numbers on our doors, and said, 'this one will not break', and then came and painted over the numbers themselves. What are we supposed to do now?"
"When someone is executed, they are asked what their last wish is. We were not asked even that. 'We will tell the date, we will tell the date' and look where they have brought us today. You tell us what sense to make of this? First they came and wrote numbers on our doors, and said, 'this one will not break', and then came and painted over the numbers themselves. What are we supposed to do now?"
[II]
Two people, breaking their own house to each other:
"When did he leave?"
"Arre bhaiya, just last night he lifted a committee for Rs. 20,000 in Rs. 5000. He didn't have any money for hiring a tempo. Having gathered his utensils and other things around him, he sat on them and cried."
"Yes, how can someone not cry after having lifted a committee at a loss
of Rs. 15,000."
[III]
Two men in yellow hats are constantly hitting the wall with big hammers, testing their strength. Next to them, their supervisors sat under a shade, papers in their hands, surveying the lanes with their eyes. Eight to nine people stood near the hammering men. One man stood, something bundled up in his hand, leaning against the wall nearby, watching the hammers without blinking.
Someone walked to the group of men and asked, "Has the one whose house is being broken, left?"
A man in a green shirt replied, "No, I don't think he has left still."
The other man left.
A man standing near me told me, pointing to the man in the green shirt, "It's his house."
[IV]
When my eyes fell on it, the words, "Oh look, what a beautiful house" escaped my lips. The man sitting atop a rubble inside the house turned to look at me. A woman sitting next to him spoke, her eyes moist, “Arre bhaiya, we got it painted just three months ago. The colour was my elder daughter's choice, who searched a lot before she found it. She insisted on this parrot green colour. And look how we are all scattering now. Where
will we go now? There was no notice, and look the entire dwelling is broken. It was morning, we were drinking tea when we got word that this was going to happen today."
[V]
"You want to take this as well?"
"Why not? It is ours."
"But the tempo is filled, there is no more space."
"So what? I am not going to leave anything of mine here, whatever you
say."
"You have pulled it apart, but how am I to lift it? Just look at it, it
has fallen into the drain."
"Don't argue, just lift it up."
"Oh you won't listen to me." Then, calling out, "Hey Bablu, just see if it will pass through the lane."
[6]
“Why are you breaking it, you wretched doers of ill. Why are you burying us alive? May your chest rip open, may it be infested with worms. You yourself sit in ventilated rooms and don't let us rest even in the sun."
A woman walked up to the old woman and said, "They won't listen to you. But we won't go from here. I'm not one to leave because they are here. I have all the documents. Let me see how they touch my house. I will make him tremble, let him try."
And speaking in this way, she sat down by the door, and kept muttering to herself. "I won't let them touch my house. I won't let them break it." Sometimes her voice would remain to herself, and at others, it would boil out of her, and reach others.
Two people, breaking their own house to each other:
"When did he leave?"
"Arre bhaiya, just last night he lifted a committee for Rs. 20,000 in Rs. 5000. He didn't have any money for hiring a tempo. Having gathered his utensils and other things around him, he sat on them and cried."
"Yes, how can someone not cry after having lifted a committee at a loss
of Rs. 15,000."
[III]
Two men in yellow hats are constantly hitting the wall with big hammers, testing their strength. Next to them, their supervisors sat under a shade, papers in their hands, surveying the lanes with their eyes. Eight to nine people stood near the hammering men. One man stood, something bundled up in his hand, leaning against the wall nearby, watching the hammers without blinking.
Someone walked to the group of men and asked, "Has the one whose house is being broken, left?"
A man in a green shirt replied, "No, I don't think he has left still."
The other man left.
A man standing near me told me, pointing to the man in the green shirt, "It's his house."
[IV]
When my eyes fell on it, the words, "Oh look, what a beautiful house" escaped my lips. The man sitting atop a rubble inside the house turned to look at me. A woman sitting next to him spoke, her eyes moist, “Arre bhaiya, we got it painted just three months ago. The colour was my elder daughter's choice, who searched a lot before she found it. She insisted on this parrot green colour. And look how we are all scattering now. Where
will we go now? There was no notice, and look the entire dwelling is broken. It was morning, we were drinking tea when we got word that this was going to happen today."
[V]
"You want to take this as well?"
"Why not? It is ours."
"But the tempo is filled, there is no more space."
"So what? I am not going to leave anything of mine here, whatever you
say."
"You have pulled it apart, but how am I to lift it? Just look at it, it
has fallen into the drain."
"Don't argue, just lift it up."
"Oh you won't listen to me." Then, calling out, "Hey Bablu, just see if it will pass through the lane."
[6]
“Why are you breaking it, you wretched doers of ill. Why are you burying us alive? May your chest rip open, may it be infested with worms. You yourself sit in ventilated rooms and don't let us rest even in the sun."
A woman walked up to the old woman and said, "They won't listen to you. But we won't go from here. I'm not one to leave because they are here. I have all the documents. Let me see how they touch my house. I will make him tremble, let him try."
And speaking in this way, she sat down by the door, and kept muttering to herself. "I won't let them touch my house. I won't let them break it." Sometimes her voice would remain to herself, and at others, it would boil out of her, and reach others.
comments
Emma Corkhill
@ 30.03.2006 23:15 CEST
Lakhmi, I am following the destruction of Nangla Machi and people´s homes through your words and from the others. Sitting in Sweden it is strange how violently real and painfull this feels. But then Nangla Machi and the people there are very real for me I worked there for 2,5 years...I can't imagine coming back to delhi to find nothing there.
Its frustrating.
Emma
Lakhmi, I am following the destruction of Nangla Machi and people´s homes through your words and from the others. Sitting in Sweden it is strange how violently real and painfull this feels. But then Nangla Machi and the people there are very real for me I worked there for 2,5 years...I can't imagine coming back to delhi to find nothing there.
Its frustrating.
Emma
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