Friday, 18 May 2012
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 By Rashmee Karnad-Jani I don’t have to be “one of you”to feel the swish of the whip that vows to break my proud back I don’t have to be “one of you” to feel the dread of a midnight knock or the anonymity of a tattooed number I don’t have to be shot at Jallianwalah Bagh to smell the fear, to hide from mobs of soldiers taking down unarmed protestors and the pain of being crushed underfoot when you question my pain when you challenge my voice don’t you see that I am all this together? have always been, part of you? all that spilled blood created me yet more is spilled today as you and many more believe that I am ‘the other’ your suffering then does not permit mine now yet I see you turn away from my outstretched arms let them not cloud your thinking nor mine let us not forget that the old, old ‘game’ of divide and conquer waits out there, eyes narrowed, fangs bared It waits for fresh blood, Yours and mine and more numbers get written, this time in ink on backs of hands and necks the blood of our shared suffering cries out in agony, at the futility it calls us to reach out and hold hands as we had once done when we were neighbours before the walls came up, between our hearts  • Rashmee Karnad-Jani's literary work reflects her strong connection to community, highlights her commitment to social justice and pays eloquent tribute to human resilience. Travelling with her husband and children through South East Asia before immigrating to Canada in 2002, India-born Rashmee often found her path marked with many moments of deep longing for family and friends left far behind as she put down roots in every new home. 'One of Us' is from The Little Brown Box, her first collection of poems. |
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