(to Radcliffe over the Indo-Pak border)
The scaling for this activity
On the map- one inch equals one mile.
So keep the pencil sharp.
A millimeter here can throw
A village elsewhere-
From Graphite to uranium enrichment,
They may never forgive geometry
Or geography.
Clear your throat before you begin.
Do not cough.
A cough can move a mosque
behind a temple,
a temple behind a mosque to
turn prayers into knives.
Check your eyes.
If they blur, pause.
Wear your glasses.
Weak vision can send a mother
running with a child on her hip,
can decide which side
her husband will die on.
Make sure the lamp is bright.
Dim light turns homes into targets.
It decides whose Urdu becomes illegal,
whose Hindi becomes suspect,
whose name is enough
to drag them out at dusk.
Drink water.
Dry hands shake.
Shaking hands redraws citizenship.
Shaking hands make people choose
between Kalma and survival.
Do not think of trains.
Do not imagine compartments
sealed with silence,
filled with bodies that reached
the right country too late.
Do not picture women
cutting their hair,
smearing ash on their faces,
jumping into wells
to avoid becoming trophies
of victory.
Avoid names.
Names are dangerous.
Names decide whether a door opens
or set houses on fire.
If you feel tired, stop.
Fatigue invents massacres.
Fatigue makes people believe
this separation is temporary-
that they’ll return after things settle.
Well, they won’t.
The houses they lock
will be occupied.
The fields they leave
will be renamed.
Their dead
will belong nowhere.
Do not imagine gods.
They will be invoked anyway.
They will be dragged into this
with slogans and fire,
forced to watch believers
kill other believers better.
Sign quickly.
Fold the map neatly.
Leave before consequences arrive.
If you stay, you'll be worshipped
For the favour you've made.
They must not know,
You're their Messiah.