Bangladesh

On 26 March, 1971 Bangladesh declared its independence from Pakistan; their Victory day came on 16 December of the same year. The borders of present-day Bangladesh were established in 1947 when the country became part of the newly-formed nation of Pakistan. The pairing arose from the common ground of the Islamic religion, but, with a 1600 kilometre expanse of India lying between Western and Eastern Pakistan (as well as economic neglect of the region that is now Bangladesh) the unity of Pakistan was a problem. Following a liberation war, Bangladesh emerged. Since independence, there’s been a great deal of political turbulence—fourteen different heads of government and at least four military coups.

While I did already know that Bangladesh is subject to annual monsoon floods and cyclones, I hadn’t realised that it is among the mostly densely populated countries in the world. As well as the floods, cyclones, tornadoes and tidal bores that occur almost every year, Bangladesh also suffers from the effects of deforestation, soil degradation and erosion. And, of course, alongside India, Bangladesh is a region in which the Bengal Tiger is found. (I can’t help it. I’m a lover of big cats, and I want to know these things.)

For today’s poem I once more fell back on the Vintage Book of Contemporary World Poetry. (It’s one of my favourite anthologies—the only one I have read cover to cover, to far, in my anthology-reading life. 600 pages of bliss.) Entitled “Border,” the poem is by Taslima Nasrin and translated from the Bengali by Carolyne Wright and Farida Sarkar.

Border

I’m going to move ahead.
Behind me my whole family is calling,
my child is pulling at my sari-end,
my husband stands blocking the door,
but I will go.
There’s nothing ahead but a river
I will cross.
I know how to swim but they
won’t let me swim, won’t let me cross.

There’s nothing on the other side of the river
                     but a vast expanse of fields
but I’ll touch this emptiness once
and run against the wind, whose whooshing sound
makes me want to dance. I’ll dance someday
and then return.

I’ve not played keep-away for years
                     as I did in childhood.
I’ll raise a great commotion playin keep-away someday
and then return.

For years I haven’t cried with my head
                     in the lap of solitude.
I’ll cry to my heart’s content someday
and then return.

There’s nothing ahead but a river
and I know how to swim.
Why shouldn’t I go? I’ll go. 

—Taslima Nasrin
translated from the Bengali by Carolyne Wright and Farida Sarkar
from the Vintage Book of Contemporary World Poetry