Our Memory is a Weapon

Madeeha Majid

Language is our first memory. Mouj.
And mother, our first home. Kasheer.

Mad heart-

They have built a wall,
Around our vale.
Stripped her green bare.
Taken off her veil.

Wail. Wai.

There is a mad woman, roaming around

ghanta ghar,

(With the emperor’s clothes),
Who only speaks of God,
To God,
the truth, which must now be proven,
the truth, which must not be spoken of

In Jannat,

Our grief,
does not fit, in a Papier-Mâché box,
But they insist-
To take a piece of paradise,
To make pieces of paradise.

And declare peace.

Calling it theirs,
From their fields,

Come marching Enemies,
Armed with rainbow colored bombs,
From their fields,
Come looters, building eco-friendly dams,
From their fields,
Come terrorizers with a (violent) vocabulary-

LOC, accession, AFSPA, integration.

From their fields-

Where nothing grows as freely as hate.
Where demons sermonize and criminals parade.

Where Each God,
Is a stone,
Each stone is a temple,
And each temple
stones their hearts.

While our bodies are turned into graveyards.

Be Brave.

It is, like this, when old lovers meet at the banks of Lakes-

Dal and Nigeen,
And look each other in the eye,
(how have you been?)

In exile. At home.



Zuv, Jaan, Badan.

That we see the morning light.

Do not forget.
Our Love is a memory.

Always Remember-
Our Memory is a weapon.

Madeeha Majid, hailing from Srinagar, is a lawyer and a recent cum-laude graduate of the Advanced Master’s in Public International Law (LL.M.) from Leiden University, where she pursued a specialization in Peace, Justice and Development. She is currently interning at the Global Rights Compliance, in The Hague, working on a project relating to the prosecution of international crimes in The Gambia. Madeeha has previous work experience at domestic and international NGOs, and legal offices on human rights, and civil rights matters, especially relating to Kashmir.

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