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Novel: The Interpreter – Chapter-8

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Novel: The Interpreter – Chapter-8

‘The Interpreter’ is the English version of Arabic novel ‘Al Tarjuman’, authored by Ashraf Aboul Yazid, an eminent writer and poet of Egypt

“These people do all the work, with precision and dedication, and most importantly… in silence.”

Ashraf Aboul-Yazid

Exile is hard. It’s like ants that gnaw away at cold and lonely bodies. But “Abu Mina” has a cure for cold bodies.

These keys in front of me are what open the gates of paradise for the distressed, offering them a warm night to resist the frost of a heartless life. Don’t think I run a brothel—the spaces are limited, and the customers are trustworthy, as are their companions. I simply prepare what could be considered a second home. I don’t open a new file unless I’ve verified the client, and I don’t leave them in the den until they leave their civil ID with me. The client must know that my protection and discretion are integral parts of the service I manage.

“Abu Mina” leaves nothing to chance, thanks to my confidant, “Naji,” my nephew, who serves as both my right and left hands. Working alone is hard. Being the caretaker of a 12-story building in Salmiya, with four apartments per floor, means I manage the affairs of a whole nation. I preside over all its ministers, form its parliament, and distribute my decrees of pardon and my generosity to the people living here—when I am pleased with them.

Dali-Book-Sindh Courier-8Currently, this large building has only five vacant spaces, any of which could be rented at any time. But the Lord compensates us with another vacancy when an old tenant leaves, and between occupancy and vacancy lies another kind of life.

It’s true that the rented apartments are beneficial to us; each tenant must pay five dinars at the beginning of the month for me to take their garbage from the stairwell to the bins at the street corner. We must do this after midnight and before the first light of morning, as the garbage trucks only come in the dark to restore everything to how it was.

If a tenant has a car, that’s another five dinars for cleaning it every month. Then there’s the gas cylinder delivery, which earns a two-dinar commission at least, and hiring a cleaner for the apartment, which means a commission for each visit, from both the tenant and the cleaner. The same goes for plumbers, electricians, satellite technicians, and even any tenant who pretends to be helpful—such people must bear the consequences because we know more about breaking things than fixing them.

Some tenants are too lazy to go to the co-op to buy their necessities at better prices and instead rely on shopkeepers, who must honor us to avoid elevator breakdowns while carrying crates of bottled water for someone living on the tenth floor, for instance.

Thus, a single apartment can generate an additional monthly income of more than 20 dinars. I take 15 dinars, and “Naji” gets the rest. But we don’t touch their filth or clean their cars; there are plenty of Indians ready to do the work for a handful of dinars every month. These workers do all the tasks, with precision and dedication, and most importantly… in silence.

We, however, have another task—a sacred one: bringing happiness to the lonely, comforting the miserable, and entertaining the isolated. We rent out a space for a single night at the same rate we could earn from a tenant in a month. We provide the space, and often, the furniture is sufficient, as many residents leave their furnishings behind when they move out.

“Naji” and I take turns standing at the corner. He calls me if he suspects a patrol is coming for an inspection, though that has never happened. And no tenant has ever complained about any cries or moans they might hear when the lava of passion ignites between a man and a woman meeting in a lustful encounter for the first time. Everyone believes that this building, as I tell each tenant, is exclusively for families. I have residents from about 20 nationalities. Didn’t I say this is a nation, and I am Kofi Annan of the nations living in this building?

I am not a pimp; I don’t run a network. For your information, the ultimate fate of such networks is always—no matter how long it takes—falling into the traps of law enforcement, either due to conflicting interests or when someone’s usefulness ends. Some inform on these networks from the airport’s free phones before boarding their flight, leaving the axe to fall on their partners or those they dealt with once or more. Global prostitution rings have even joined the game, with clients contacting specific numbers to secure women in the UAE, Kuwait, or Qatar under the guise of obtaining visas to these places via a connection on some island.

On the other side, after confirming the language of communication, the operator asks for the name, age, and type of service, then lists the prices: 100 dinars for an hour, 200 dinars for a day. Alas, “Abu Mina,” how wasted you are in the local market! Once the agreement is made and payment is received for the selected service, the address is sent via email or text message, including details of the building and the apartment.

With a single glance, I can tell if what I see is a trap or just two birds looking for a love nest. The best collaborator I’ve ever had is “Vicky,” the lovely Filipina:

“Good evening, Mr. Abu Mina!”

“Good evening, Miss Vicky.”

“I want to introduce you to my colleague from the company, Mr. Samer. He’s looking for an apartment. I told him about the rent here. Can he view the apartment?”

I examine the man she calls her colleague. He’s a new one—usually a new one every time. Her clients are always clean and well-dressed:

“I have a vacant apartment on the ninth floor. Shall I come with you, or will you view it yourselves and return the key afterward? I have some matters to attend to.”

“We don’t want to trouble you, Mr. Abu Mina; we’ll take the key.”

She extends her hand, her palm and fingers resembling a fine porcelain spoon, handing me their civil IDs along with a roll of three 10-dinar bills. A clean transaction—delivery and receipt. “Vicky” then steps away from the door, standing outside the building as she pretends to explain its features to the prospective tenant.

I watch her small buttocks sway, as if preparing to dance to some rhythm. She turns toward where I’m standing, and I notice her shirt open at the chest. She always carries that small bag with her, containing everything needed for companionship and cleansing any traces. I see the man with her pointing to the elevator, eager, it seems, to see everything!

But what should I do about Mr. Mohsen’s apartment?

He usually pays the rent right after the government salaries are deposited into the banks—on the 25th of the month, exactly. But he couldn’t pay this month, and perhaps won’t be able to pay in the coming months. Should I consider it a vacant apartment and inform the building’s owner, so I don’t end up paying the rent from my own pocket? Or should I add it to the list of available spaces?

Mr. Mohsen used to leave me a copy of his apartment key so I could bring in someone to clean it during his absence or before his return from a trip. When he went to work, he left me in charge of picking up his clothes from the laundry and crates of bottled water. He was generous.”

When he found out I was a literature graduate, he was very surprised. Maybe he thought I was uneducated or only had a diploma. I told him:

‘Bitter circumstances threw us here. If I’d found work that earned me a crust of bread, I wouldn’t have traveled.’

He listened to my story with great astonishment as I explained how I had borrowed 7,000 pounds to pay for the commercial visa to come here and how it took me two years after arriving to repay that debt. I told him how I had worked as a driver, only to be cheated by the company owner, and later worked at a bakery, where the manager fired me for my inexperience. Eventually, I discovered that being a caretaker was the job for those who had no other job.

He replied, laughing in his usual calm manner:

‘A job for those who have no job has become the slogan for every profession here. I’ve seen, for example, journalists who never studied journalism or knew anything about it before arriving in Kuwait. Here, newspapers have proliferated like locusts, devouring the good journalism that Kuwait was known for decades ago. If you examine today’s papers, you’ll find they all look the same. Now they’re owned by merchants, politicians, and those connected to religious figures. Each newspaper owner brings in someone with some experience, subscribes to two news agencies, and fills the pages with opinion columns, advertisements, social photos, and scandals. It’s a secret recipe, managed by a handful of ignorant people who got into journalism because, here, it has truly become a job for those who have no job.’

‘Are you a journalism graduate?’ I asked.

‘No, I graduated from the Faculty of Al-Alsun (Languages). I work as a translator for the Arab Translation Institute near Salmiya, on Arabian Gulf Street. You know, Abu Mina, even in translation, which requires specialists, intruders have entered the field. They use Google Translate, and now translation, too, has become a job for those who have no job—just like being a caretaker!’

Before he left his apartment, he had agreed with me to bring in an electrician to fix the water heater switch. The next evening, I went up at the agreed time and knocked on the door, but no one answered. His daughter had traveled a few days earlier, and I knew he was alone, so I thought he might be out buying something and would return. But he didn’t come back, nor did he sleep in his apartment that night.

I didn’t want to open the door in front of the electrician. That was a private matter between him and me.

He wasn’t the type to play around, and I rarely saw anyone visiting him. Could something have happened to him? Bad news spreads quickly, but the newspapers in the days following his disappearance mentioned nothing except the dissolution of parliament, the arrests of prostitution networks, complaints about unfinished roads, and the stadium that’s been under construction for years without completion.

I searched the traffic accident reports, which are abundant here, but I didn’t find his name.

Then, one morning, I saw his picture in the newspaper, along with an article. I still keep the clipping:

‘The Egyptian translator and prominent writer, our colleague Mohsen Helmy, remains in a medical coma after suffering a stroke in the brain’s control center about three weeks ago.

He was transferred yesterday morning from the intensive care unit at Mubarak Al-Kabeer Hospital to the high-care unit at Hadi Hospital, as announced by Dr. Medhat Safwat, a neurology specialist at the hospital.

Before his illness, Mohsen Helmy worked at the Arab Translation Institute as the head of its research department. He completed several cultural projects, most notably translating more than 30 intellectual, encyclopedic, and literary works into Arabic.

The newspaper staff wishes our dear colleague a speedy recovery, hoping he will return to serve contemporary Arab culture and contribute to enriching our library with essential works.’

I was confused and felt a painful pang in my chest!

This was a man whose smile never left his face, who radiated kindness, and who had been left alone after his daughter traveled. Did he deserve what happened to him?

Suddenly, questions burst out of my mind: Should I keep his apartment, hoping he recovers and returns to pay the rent in full? Should I inform the owner and arrange for its eviction? Or should I add it to the list of available spaces?

It’s a tough decision, as I always considered him an older brother. I’ll never forget when he called one of his doctor friends to recommend my son, Mina, for admission to Asyut University.

‘What are you doing, Abu Mina?’

I entered the apartment, which I was allowed to access by its owner, but for the first time, I felt like a thief breaking in without permission.

I closed the door behind me, as if I didn’t want any of the neighbors to see me, even by chance. The tremor of fear running through me was stronger than the anxiety I usually felt while waiting for Vicky to return the key and pick up the civil IDs.

Over the past two years, I’ve managed most of the vacant apartments in the building by working exclusively with Vicky and her friend Rose. Their professionalism made the tension more bearable. This profession is tough and shortens one’s lifespan.

I saw piles of books! When did Mr. Mohsen acquire all these? There were hundreds. I had entered the apartment before, but only with a fleeting glance, and hadn’t noticed the sheer number. Now, I felt like I was in a library within an apartment.

In the kitchen, I saw the last plate he had used for breakfast—a sandwich crust with traces of cheese, an orange peel, and a teacup with green mold growing on its surface because no one had been there to wash it.

I heard faint music. Following the sound, I went toward the closed bedroom door and found the radio tuned to Marina FM. Suddenly, the soft music switched to something loud and blaring, startling me. I laughed at my frightened expression, which surprised me in the mirror in front of me.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I felt as if I had been there for a century. The image I saw in Mr. Mohsen’s bedroom mirror wasn’t the same one I saw in the bathroom mirror in my room. That’s how mirrors are—kind to their owners but unkind to strangers.

The thinning hair eating away at the sides of my head was obvious. What do I care about hair? Let it all fall out, just as the days fall from the branches of the tree of life. Even that cursed belly has grown, thanks to a routine confined to moving between an occupied apartment and a vacant one, my world reduced to a handful of meters. Where is the athlete who used to climb palm trees as swiftly as a monkey, shaking their branches with strength so the hands of children could catch the red-colored fruits they loved?

All of that is gone, along with the advice of Father Anba…

But Father, we neither steal nor lie. This is their society, filled with sins. We didn’t come here to fix the world. We are merely passersby, spectators, and soon-to-be-departed, even if we live here our entire lives. What we build is not ours, and I believe you will not hold us accountable because when we leave this country, we will leave behind all our sins. Despite the clutter in the apartment, the strict organization of the books, furniture arrangement, and boxed items was evident. Mr. Mohsen had left the apartment three weeks ago, yet I felt his breath following me. His unique scent still lingered here and there.

I must return to the apartment two or three more times before making a final decision. These belongings are too precious to be thrown into dirty dumpsters, too valuable to be sold as used furniture or books by the kilo, or discarded as neglected items. Who knows? Perhaps his daughter will return when she learns of what happened to him. I could discuss the rent with her or arrange with her to sell some items or ship others to Egypt.

I’ll wait a month, no more. He has enough goodwill credit with me to warrant that attempt. I’ll pay this month’s rent on his behalf. Perhaps Vicky and her friend can intensify their activities to help make up for this heavy loss. I won’t inform Naji until I make the right decision. The face painted here in that portrait, Mr. Mohsen, carries that same expression that always puzzled me. Was it sorrow, regret, or simply relaxation?

Now, it doesn’t matter. Rest easy. But forgive me when I return after a month. I’ll move all your belongings into one room, stacking them to free up the space. You see now that life isn’t worth all this effort, as they move you from one hospital to another, just a number or a medical file. To them, you’re merely a past action. Perhaps we’ll learn something from the blow that struck you.

I will allow myself to keep something that reminds me of you. I read in the newspaper that you’re a prominent translator and writer, but you never gifted me any of your books. Perhaps you thought to yourself:

‘What would this caretaker read?’

Oh, if only you had known me during my school days. You’re about my age, as I saw on your civil ID. But I married early. You would’ve discovered that I am a bookworm. I have glasses, though I only wear them to read. I had a collection of books back at my father’s house. I thought you were like me, a reader, but you’re not just a bookworm. You’re the cocoon from which books emerge.

When I traveled, my wife, Samia, told me I didn’t need all those books. She sold them by the kilo to a scrap dealer because, as you know, everything in Egypt is now sold for a pittance. She felt victorious when she used the money from selling the books to buy herself lingerie. When I returned home for vacation, she wore one of her new red chiffon nightgowns and asked me:

‘What do you think of this book cover?’

Then she stripped off what little she was wearing—a mere string dividing her backside and brushing against her sacred place—and said:

‘Didn’t you want to read? Come, open the book, Abu Mina. Write your notes in the margins with your beloved pen. Pour your white ink; reading here isn’t for everyone, as Suzanne Mubarak used to say. It’s for you alone.’ (Continues)

Click here for Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, 

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About the Author 

Ashraf-Aboul-YazidAshraf Aboul-Yazid is a renowned Egyptian poet, journalist, novelist, travelogue writer and translator. He is author of around three dozen books and Editor-in-Chief of Silk Road Literature Series.

 

Characteristics of the novel “Imprisoned Soul” by author Angela Kosta

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Characteristics of the novel “Imprisoned Soul” by author Angela Kosta

“Imprisoned Soul” is a new novel authored by Angela Kosta, an Albania-born Italian writer, poet and journalist

Preface by Kujtim Hajdari  

Angela Kosta, now well-known by many people in her country and in other countries around the world for her work as a journalist, writer, poet, promoter, and translator, stands out with her talent and the art of writing since in her early works, such is the novel “Imprisoned Soul” that leave impressions and bring to its pages, while simultaneously presenting to the reader events, descriptions, and dialogues that resonate fully with the reality of the time it describes. This makes the reader interact with this reality, and the characters she brings to life are as real as they are believable, so that at times the reader feels like one of them, going through experiences that not only become captivating and expressive but also leave a mark in their memory, falling in love with the characters and seeking to resemble them.

Angela KostaWith this, the novelist achieves the high obligation that every artist and writer has, which is to reflect reality in a natural, credible, and artistically beautiful way, meaning creatively, expressing it with the ability and strength of her imagination, thus fulfilling the most important task of making her work an educational standard for the reader. In the novel, one finds not only a beautiful and accomplished description of this reality but also an analytical and psychologically convincing stance of the writer that not only stimulates the reader, in the good sense of the word, but also instills a moral obligation and pleasure to learn from the characters.

I would say that this characteristic is evident throughout the entire novel; the writer, like a good sculptor who carves his work with art and care, will observe with attention and the eye of an artist every scene, every event, every dialogue, and I would add every word in her work. It is difficult to find excessive elements in the novel or what we often call “filler.”

Following the events with such care, both in the temporal and spatial dimensions, she often intervenes with her thoughts and analyses, revealing and better unraveling the world of the characters, reflecting the events and the theater of occurrences with more beauty and strength. What is quite positive is that she never burdens the narrative with her interventions; as an author, she acts as a companion, illuminating the paths and alleys where she wishes to traverse the characters of novel.

We see this as she carefully follows and guides the main character of the novel, Vilma, into the future. After losing her entire family in the tragedy of the Otranto Channel, along with her hope and desire to live, the author brings her into contact with good people and environment not only for herself but also for those who are no longer here, who would surely feel very proud and happy to see her like this.

Before her passes the entirety of her past life in Albania, the tragedy of Otranto, the days in the hospital, the help of nurse Sabrina and her sister Barbara, the closeness and spiritual support above all from her friends Sara, Cinzia, etc. The refugee camp, with the responsible Loredana, is portrayed as both welcoming and concerned about helping her. The scene of indescribable pain in identifying the corpses makes her reflect, ringing the bells of her conscience that she must justify the sacrifices of everyone with her studies and work in her future.

All of this opens the doors of hope, rekindles her desire and will, and she makes a vow not to disappoint anyone, first and foremost her family members who sacrificed their lives, then herself, and all the society that did so much for her.

And she, with “Imprisoned Soul,” liberates herself from the pain (from which the title of the novel is derived) to take her life into her own hands. I won’t dwell on the details of the scenes so as not to take away the curiosity and pleasure of reading, but I wanted to clarify that by following the main character step by step and on the path she lights up, she simultaneously realizes two important and current ideas: that there are good people everywhere in the world who are predisposed to help others in times of misfortune, and indirectly, the call for everyone to view society through this lens to help and do what they can to assist others.

These ideas are realized through the secondary lines of the novel, such as that of Sabrina, the nurse, and her sister Barbara, who works in the refugee camp, as well as Loredana, the camp manager, and the state authorities who help her get her documents in order.

In the novel, you will find scenes of events written with finesse that touch you with their culture and behavior, with the closeness and help they offer Vilma, alongside their own family problems that are present in every part of the world. The author skillfully presents these secondary lines, such as those of.

Read – Poetic diction of Angela Kosta: A brief analysis of Contemporary Multidimensionality

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Kujtim Hajdari - Sindh CourierKujtim Hajdari was born in Hajdaraj, on April 10, 1956, in the city of Lushnjë, Albania. He started writing at a young age, with his poems and creations being published in the local newspaper and magazines during his middle school and high school years. After completing high school, he prepared three volumes: poetry titled ‘Will Spring Come?’, short stories titled ‘The Violinist’, and a drama titled ‘Sleepless Nights’. However, his works did not see the light of publication due to political reasons. After the change in the political system, he went into exile in Italy, where he spent many years before eventually settling in the USA. For a long period of time, he stopped writing due to the demoralization caused by the non-publication of his volumes and the threats he faced as a dissident writer, as well as the challenges of family and the difficulties of exile. He started writing again, after a hiatus of about 25 years, composing poetry in Albanian, Italian, and more recently, in English. So far his 15 poetry books have been published while his poems have been published in 66 anthologies – 12 national and 54 international, in three languages: Albanian, Italian and English. He has received numerous awards, certificates and diplomas from various web groups and associations.

Breakfast in Lahore, Lunch in Amritsar, & Dinner in Bangalore

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Breakfast in Lahore, Lunch in Amritsar, & Dinner in Bangalore

For Bani Singh, it was beyond words to convey… returning to her own country …while leaving a place that was her ancestors’ native land

By Sara Arshad

Seeking solace: A daughter’s cross-border journey

It is unbearable to even imagine being forced to leave your hometown or risk being slaughtered simply because you belong to a different religion. But I did not find any bitterness in Bani Singh’s eyes for Lahore or my country, Pakistan. What I saw was grief and pain impossible to express in words.

The Wagah-Attari between Pakistan and India is a line that can evoke intense emotions.

At sunset, large crowds on either side gather for the flag-lowering ceremony and raise nationalistic slogans. It is also a place where saying goodbye is difficult. You never know if the person crossing that line to leave will ever return.

When a loved one leaves your sight, the world can appear hollow and empty, with just the hope and longing to see each other again soon. For me, that loved one was the Indian filmmaker Bani Singh last year.

8-Bani-Singh-at-Attari-Wagha-Border-Lahore.-Photo_-Supplied
Bani Singh at Attari – Wagha Border Lahore. Photo courtesy: Bani Singh)

We had met for the first time just days earlier when Bani Singh was among the Indian writers and artists who crossed over into Pakistan for the Eighth International Faiz Festival in Lahore last February.

Bani had been invited to show her moving documentary film Taangh (the Longing). I had seen the film before, thanks to a virtual screening hosted by Delhi-based journalist Aekta Kapoor for the South Asia Peace Action Network in November 2022.

Taangh – The Longing

Taangh features the story of three friends in Lahore, 1947 – Keshav Dutt, Sahibzada Shahrukh, and Grahnandan Singh, also known as Nandy. They were Ravians, students of Government College (now University), and members of the college field hockey team. The college student magazine, The Ravi, is named after the Ravi River that flows through Lahore.

The brutal clashes between followers of different religions, Hindu, Muslim, and Sikh shattered their peaceful existence. Amidst the violence, some saved lives, offering people shelter in their homes or helping them to flee. One of them was Shahrukh who helped his Sikh friend Nandy escape to India.

5-Standing-on-a-rooftop-of-her-late-fathers-house-located-in-Lahore.Photo-by-Sara-Arshad
Standing on a rooftop of her late father’s house located in Lahore. Photo by Sara Arshad

When Bani Singh visited Government College Lahore ten years ago, filming for Taangh and to share her father’s legacy, she received an enthusiastic welcome from the hockey team. They awarded a silver cup to Nandy Singh which she received on his behalf. The film had moved me to tears, and I later wrote about it for Sapan News. I wrote about how I felt that Bani Singh saw Lahore as if through a lover’s eyes and wished I had known she was in my city, Lahore, so I could have helped her.

Lahore, A Father’s City

Bani Singh has a strong emotional affinity to Lahore. It was her father’s city and homeland until the riots of 1947 forced his family to evacuate, leaving behind their full existence here, including their family’s work.

It is unbearable to even imagine being forced to leave your hometown or risk being slaughtered simply because you belong to a different religion. But I did not find any bitterness in Bani Singh’s eyes for Lahore or my country, Pakistan. When we met, what I saw was grief and pain impossible to express in words.

She told me that Nandy Singh would cover his head reverentially when he remembered his Lahore, like a religious pilgrim visiting holy places. Even after he was unable to speak due to a cardiac stroke, he would still cover his head when anyone mentioned Lahore.

4-Shopping-at-a-handicraft-shop-in-walled-city.-Photo-by-Duaa-e-Emaan
Shopping at a handicraft shop in walled city. Photo by Duaa e Emaan

Bani Singh had a six-day visa for Lahore and wanted to immerse herself in the city’s many historical sites. I was happy to take her wherever she wanted to go, and to host her after her one-day hotel stay arranged by the Faiz Foundation.

The day she arrived, she wanted to go to the Old City of Lahore without wasting a minute. Her itinerary included the Shahi Mohalla, the royal neighborhood dating back to Mughal times, and the nearby Minar-e-Pakistan, a monument built where the Lahore Resolution was passed.

Then of course, the Badshahi Mosque and Shahi Qila, or royal fort, the city’s most historical places.

On this, her second visit to the city, she was capturing the images and experiences in her heart and keeping them there, rather than on film.

She wished to experience a ‘qawwali’, devotional music, at the shrine of the Sufi poet Mian Mir, revered for his efforts to promote interfaith harmony. The Muslim Mian Mir and the Guru Arjan Dev, the fifth Sikh Guru, maintained a close relationship despite their distinct religious backgrounds.

The other Indian delegates at the Faiz Festival joined us for this excursion on their second day. That evening was dedicated to the Faiz Festival, where her film was screened.

The film, particularly its depiction of Lahore, impacted viewers deeply. There was a standing ovation and prolonged applause followed by a conversation with the noted artist and educationist Salima Hashmi and Dr. Tahir Kamran, a retired historian from Government College Lahore. The packed hall included luminaries like Khawar Mumtaz, the women’s rights activist and author, and a Sapan founder member and advisor like Salima Hashmi.

1-LEAD-Bani-Singhs-fathers-house-in-Lahore.-Photo-by-Bani-Singh
Bani Singh’s father’s house in Lahore: Still standing after all these years. Photo by Bani Singh

A pilgrimage to the past

It was important for Bani Singh to visit her father’s old home, built long before Partition near the densely populated Anarkali Bazaar. The double-story house still stands, with its lovely balcony, on a street connected to Lodge Road, just yards from the residence of the famed philanthropist Sir Ganga Ram, which was later demolished.

The family and neighbors greeted Bani warmly and took her around the entire house, informing her of the changes they had made over the years. There are two staircases and halls, and a large roof. The building’s classical appearance sometimes attracts student photographers from the National College of Arts, said our hosts.

On the third day, we visited Nankana Sahib, to pay our respects at the gurudwara (shrine) of Guru Nanak, the revered founder of Sikhism, and then to Government College Lahore where the vice chancellor and students of the college and hockey squad had invited her. They warmly welcomed her and presented her with a guest of honor shield.

The Delhi Darwaza

Bani appreciated the beautifully renovated Wazir Khan Masjid and the street food and shopping at the Delhi Darwaza – the arched gateway leading to the historic road between Lahore and Delhi. She enjoyed the famed Lahori hospitality and wit, from the car parking to the street food vendors, and the local dishes at Delhi Gate. Then there was the modern side, with its M.M Alam Road and Liberty Market.

The last day of her stay felt highly emotional. As I drove her towards the border, she was filled with a mixture of sadness at having to leave, coupled with joy and gratitude for the time she had in Lahore, and the new friends and residences that she can now call her own. It was beyond words to convey, on the one hand, returning to her own country and, on the other, leaving a place that was her ancestors’ native land.

When Bani Singh left Lahore, I knew she was leaving with memories in her heart. She did not say goodbye to Lahore. Rather, she prayed that she would return, with many good wishes and warmth to her friends from the other side of the border. “Breakfast in Lahore, lunch in Amritsar and dinner in Bangalore” she wrote on Instagram later.

[This article was first published under the title ‘Seeking Solace: A daughter’s cross-border journey’ by SAPAN News]

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cropped-Sara-Arshad-edited-80x80Sara Arshad is a teacher, poet, and writer based in Lahore, Pakistan. She is a proud volunteer with the Southasia Peace Action Network

Courtesy: India Currents (Posted on January 10, 2025)

Read: Let people meet – before it’s too late

Novel: The Interpreter – Chapter-7

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Novel: The Interpreter – Chapter-7

‘The Interpreter’ is the English version of Arabic novel ‘Al Tarjuman’, authored by Ashraf Aboul Yazid, an eminent writer and poet of Egypt

“You built your glory on facts, and I will destroy it with rumors.”

Ashraf Aboul-Yazid

This is the curse of “Mustafa Sanad,” O Translator. The curse that falls upon those who break my word. I told you, blessed are those who know gratitude, but I have seen nothing from you but denial and ingratitude. I recommended you to the manager because I’ve known him since his master’s studies in Cairo, and my word is respected by him. Even if he asks someone else, my recommendation will carry the most weight. My introduction to Kuwait wasn’t just a favor, but out of my regard for introducing him to the giants of literature, university deans, and the founders of research centers.

I told you that those who defy me will only rise over my dead body. Yes, literally, over my dead body. And now, you are nothing but a corpse, unable even to move, let alone rise.

Dali-Novel-7-Sindh CourierRemember I told you that there is a great treasure called judging committees, and that we could agree on several names to form fictitious committees that would settle for crumbs while we feast on the honey? And so, we would spare years of wasted time here… but you acted like an honorable man, saying that this is the way of the lowly.

I excused you since you hadn’t worked in real journalism in Egypt, but I am from the institutions there, and I know who writes for whom, and for how much. I know that in Egypt, we have more columnists than readers. Not all writers are like “Tarek El-Beshri,” “Galal Amin,” and “Mohamed Hassanin Heikal.” And mountains of paper require seas of ink and pens that never run dry.

A year after you came, our colleague “Nasser Hassan” migrated to Melbourne after acquiring his Australian passport.

Do you know how he managed to pay the lawyer’s office bills for six full years? Do you know where he found the travel money and the story of “landing” multiple times, for himself, his wife, his son, and daughter? Do you think the salary we get here is enough for the high cost of living that even Kuwaitis complain about? And do those few dinars they pay us compare to the effort we put in here? Of course not!

For all of this, “Nasser Hassan” wrote daily columns for more than ten names: the lawyer, the MP, the businessman… among them the doctor, the engineer, and the journalist… All of them wanted to flaunt their names and pictures in the daily papers. He even edited the newspaper of the new Islamists, from the first page to the last, and didn’t even know how many rak‘ahs the Maghrib prayer had.

This is an era where quality no longer matters, O Translator, but quantity is key. Dr. “Salman Ibrahim” knew what “Nasser Hassan” was doing during office hours, which had nothing to do with the institution’s work, but he ignored it because he occasionally assigned him dirty tasks. That’s why he kept him on the bench, ready to be called into the field when needed.

But with the journalistic columns, “Nasser Hassan” was writing research for Dr. “Nouria Badri,” the professor of theater. She came to me after “Nasser Hassan’s” sudden departure to settle in Australia, deeply troubled. I reassured her and told her the right person was available.

I never doubted you would take on the task. She would pay you the equivalent of a month’s salary for a few pages of full-scape paper with some marginal notes. You needed every dinar, as you pampered yourself with expensive clothes, lived in the costly Salmiya, and spent a lot on your pampered daughter in a private school. But you hesitated, like a stubborn mule, and slapped me with your words:

“What is this you are asking me to do, ‘Darsh’? I don’t sell my pen to anyone. You offered me the idea of journalistic columns before, and I refused.”

Literally, I knew you would stay here only over my dead body, but I took the gentle path, trying not to anger you and seeking not to have you reject it. I knew that Dr. “Nouria’s” door would undoubtedly open other doors, and good things would come.

Listen, O Translator, the journalistic columns are different. I agreed with you when you said that this doesn’t concern you, that these daily writings would distract you from your grand projects, and that they were trivial matters for a society you don’t mix with. And that the work of the institution and your translations consume your time day and night. But this is different. This is a paper for a theater conference. I know it will take you nothing more than a few minutes to scratch your head, but I also know that it will open many doors for you. Perhaps you’ll find yourself on a judging committee here or there. Who knows? Maybe you’ll win a translation prize, with Dr. “Nouria” as the judge. Come on, use your brain and look at ‘Nasser Hassan’s’ experience, and learn.”

“’Darsh,’ understand me. I’m not ‘Nasser Hassan.’ What he was willing to do, doesn’t concern me. It’s not necessarily something I’d agree to, nor am I obliged to do it!”

“But I gave her your phone number, and she’ll call you this evening. I told her I’d inform you and that she’ll call to give you the details…”

“I won’t answer her!”

“What’s the difference between writing for Dr. ‘Salman Ibrahim’ his studies and articles… and writing for Dr. ‘Nouria’ every now and then? At least she’ll reward you, while Ibrahim won’t give you a single penny.”

Maybe I was rude when I confronted you with my last question, but you were impudent and vile when you answered me:

“Listen, ‘Darsh’… Do you want me to tell ‘Salman Ibrahim’ about this request of yours? As for my writing for him, it’s within the scope of institutional work. The man didn’t lie to me when we sat together by the Nile before I came here. He said verbatim: ‘I need someone to formulate my ideas before they are published. Can you modify them, add or remove, so they take their final shape?’ I told him that this is part of the editor’s, reviewer’s, and translator’s work, and I’d do it willingly. When I came here, ‘Salman Ibrahim’ never asked me to write for anyone. I am proud that I am formulating the mind of a prestigious Arab institution whose influence extends beyond its geographic boundaries. Civilization’s flashes throughout history have never risen except on the shoulders of translators. If I had the money, I would have established a similar institution, but since I’m here, I work as if this institution is my own. I don’t work for ‘Salman Ibrahim,’ I work with him for the benefit of the Arab Translation Institute.”

It’s true that you silenced me at that moment, O Translator, but you didn’t extinguish the fire that ignited in my heart toward you. You dared challenge me, making my neck as vulnerable as a thread before Dr. “Nouria.” And I swore to myself that I would end your work at the institution by any means, and that you would continue only over my dead body.

Then the secret became clear, and the truth was revealed. I initially thought you were walking the path of purity and honor, but the reality is that your path is silk upon silk, the path of the self-sufficient. Dr. “Salman Ibrahim” told me in no uncertain terms that you and writer “Fawz Al-Abdallah” had a love story. And, of course, O Uncle Translator, when you’re sitting on a mountain of diamonds, you won’t look at the dust of money.

You should keep us under your wing, O Translator!

For example… You know my relationship with the publishers, so why didn’t you offer your golden egg-laying chicken a chance to work with me for second editions of her published works? I would have made a nice sum, acting as a bridge between her and the publishers. With the dinar at almost 20 Egyptian pounds, I could print a good number of copies for 1,000 pounds, and make 1,000 dinars. But you never want to do good for anyone but yourself… I would have left you a percentage, or made you sign publishing contracts to reprint your old translations, so you could benefit and help others!

As if you didn’t know that your “Fawz Al-Abdallah”—in all her greatness—was consulting her uncle “Daniel Khayat” on all her work? It’s true that I wear dark glasses to protect my sight, but they are also necessary for curiosity sometimes. They are the hole in my door where no one sees where my eyes are going… and they show me what the thick-glassed gazers can’t see. I saw your Fawz personally handing over papers in an envelope to Uncle Daniel, and receiving others from him. These texts were either written by “Daniel Khayat” for her or, at the very least, bore his stamp.

Tell me: Why is it permissible for Mrs. “Fawz Al-Abdallah” to do what others cannot? And why does “Daniel Khayat” accept what you don’t? Are you greater than him, or more famous? O Translator, a little humility would have saved you.

But I speak to myself now, for regret, which you would have shown, is of no use now, if you could even regret it someday. I stopped visiting you the moment you turned me away, and I didn’t go to see you when they moved you to the first hospital. Even when colleagues visited you at the second hospital, my heart didn’t allow me to forgive you. I told those who went:

“What does it matter if you go or not? He doesn’t understand anything, and they won’t let most of you in.”

Some of them took offense, even “Adham,” the young naïve one, told me that my heart is black. Some stood by you and haven’t spoken to me since that day, but the living are greater than the dead, and his fate will come, and I will teach him a lesson. He will have no future except over my dead body, and perhaps he will fall under the curse that befell you—the curse of “Mustafa Sanad,” which neither stays nor leaves.

Now a new era begins after you. A new person has taken your place, and you have become a line from the past. I will write the following lines at the institution. Tomorrow, I will meet the new translator, ‘Ahmed Abdel Megid,’ in the office you prevented me from entering for two full years. You’ve broken the jug, or rather shattered the jar behind you, and I had dreamed of making that office mine, to erase the remnants of your presence.

Did you leave the pictures of ‘Naguib Mahfouz,’ ‘Marquez,’ and ‘Dostoevsky’ in their dark frames on the wall behind you? Are the framed certificates of appreciation awarded to you by translation institutions still there to your right?

You used to place a picture of your daughter next to the phones. Did you add a picture of your diamond mountain, the lady ‘Fawz’? No matter, the body has left, but the pictures remain, doing their owner no good.

But I will find a way to destroy the perfect image you built here. Rumors won’t stop after your departure; they will rise again, and there will always be someone to repeat them, like a parrot. You built your glory on facts, and I will destroy it with rumors. I’ve studied rumors as a science, I know their limits, their impact, and their spreading power. In societies that don’t read, scrutinize, or document, the fire of dragons will ignite at the edges of paper truths and histories, and they will be scattered like ash.

All it takes is a complaint to ‘Salman Ibrahim’ for him to reconsider his opinion of you. He told me—two weeks after your dramatic departure—that he might consider adding your daughter’s name to the list of text reviewers and auditors. Of course, this is a kindness from him, but as usual, a kindness not from his own pocket. And I promise you, this will only happen over my dead body.

I believe he may change his mind when he reads a similar letter:

“Dear Dr. Salman Ibrahim, esteemed and brilliant thinker, may God protect and bless you,

Greetings, and I hope this finds you well.

I wish to express my admiration for your work and for your exceptional leadership of the Arab Translation Institute in the land of Arabism, the cultural capital of the world—Kuwait.

It saddens me to write this complaint, but I have sent multiple requests to participate in your annual conference via the published email address on your website, without receiving any response. I attached my research proposal, my CV, and my previous experiences, as instructed.

After waiting in vain, I called the conference coordinator, Mr. ‘Mohsen Helmy,’ who responded coldly and told me that my CV did not meet the level of the conference and its participants.

I know how much you care about the success of the conference, but I have doubts that I am the only one who suffered as I did. All of this, so that Mr. ‘Mohsen Helmy’ can invite a select group of his friends, whose participation we read about for the second year in a row, knowing full well that their CVs are full of nonsense and exaggerations.

I trust in your fairness, integrity, and wisdom, and your ability to make the right decision.”

I know, O Translator, that such a letter will shake the foundations of the institution. They will not check the truth of its contents or the identity of its sender. After all the flattery you’ve given your manager, he is like the courtesans who are easily charmed by praise. They may even come to me to ask about the name of the sender, given my experience. And at that moment, the time for my revenge will come.

I don’t do all this because of what you did to me; it was just a situation. But I felt it was the beginning of other confrontational situations, and that you had taken an adversarial position toward me, becoming a dark tunnel blocking my way. If what happened to you was divine retribution, I’ve prepared earthly retribution, no less painful.

I spoke with the disappointed ‘Mohyi Saber’ after his visit to your grave, O Imam of Translators. He believed what I told him about your love affair when he saw the “Siniora” leaving the hospital. I think he, like me, never liked you, although he became accustomed to cowardice and would show the opposite of what he really felt, repeating his vile phrase:

‘Kiss the hand you cannot cut.’

How many hands has ‘Mohyi Saber’ kissed in forty years? Since I came to Kuwait four years ago, he’s been saying he’s tired of the exile and that it’s time for him to return to Egypt for good. His older colleagues would smile when they heard his decision because they’d seen him announce the same decision at the beginning of each year, only to delay it until the next year.

When he said this to you, O Translator, you mocked him in your reply:

‘Traveling is like a quicksand, the further you go in, the harder it is to get out, and escape routes become less. Always stay on the shore, and just as drivers keep a distance between themselves and the car in front, you should maintain the same distance, so you don’t crash into the unknown.

Never make a decision you can’t implement, and never retract a decision you’ve announced. Think to yourself before you speak to others, and when you tell them something, be sure of your truth, otherwise, you’ll lose your credibility. We are all prisoners of our slip-ups.’”

Such generous wisdom you distributed freely, O wise translator, but you—like the dishonest—did not tell us the truth about your Kuwaiti lover. Perhaps you thought keeping it a secret would hide it from us forever. But one day, we would know. You wanted to get involved, as Dr. ‘Salman Ibrahim’ himself told me… Were you planning to keep it a secret? Perhaps you intended to deceive her, leave her hanging, and travel, after keeping the distance you desired between you and staying here.

The institution is like the municipal pigeon coop; small and unable to hide any of its filth. What we don’t see rises in odor, and the smell has now spread. I must strike with finality.” (Continues)

Click here for Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, 

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About the Author 

Ashraf-Aboul-YazidAshraf Aboul-Yazid is a renowned Egyptian poet, journalist, novelist, travelogue writer and translator. He is author of around three dozen books and Editor-in-Chief of Silk Road Literature Series.

 

Expensive Humanity – A Poem from Nepal

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Expensive Humanity – A Poem from Nepal

Be the healing mantras for the creation,

I know how expensive humanity has become.

Sushant Thapa, a poet from Biratnagar, Nepal, shares his poem

Sushant-Thapa-Sindh CourierSushant Thapa, a poet from Biratnagar, Nepal, has written 7 books of English poems and one book of flash fiction and short stories. He teaches English language and literature to university level students in Biratnagar, Nepal. He holds an M.A. in English Literature from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. He is widely published in schoolbook, print and online magazines.

20221107171132_9edac66d1be5d32d434c7ee888886fb84465ccf969070d72acbf0b655d75040aExpensive Humanity

I look at the troubles of the world

I seek a healing air.

I am a cart of agony

Going to places.

Keep a flower

At my bosom

And kiss my wounded heart.

I think humanity

Was holy in itself

For better reasons.

I carry the weight

Of the aging world.

It is in my nature

To inquire about the nature

Of the battlefield,

I cannot win humanity

In its own conquest.

Be the healing mantras

For the creation,

I know how

Expensive humanity

Has become.

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Read: Newly found Land – A Poem from Nepal

Art- Mystic Poetry from India

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Art- Mystic Poetry from India

Art is an accentuated language of reality

It says what neither words nor men can say

It runs parallel to history and condenses the conscience of the times.

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, a renowned poet and writer from Chandigarh, India, shares his mystic poetry

Jernail Singh Anand- Sindh CourierDr. Jernail Singh Anand, based in Chandigarh, is an Indian poet and scholar credited with 170 plus books of English literature, philosophy and spirituality. He won great Serbian Award Charter of Morava and his name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. He was honored with Seneca Award LAUDIS CHARTA by Academy of Arts & Philosophical Sciences, Bari, Italy 2024. He is Founder President of the International Academy of Ethics and conferred Doctor of Philosophy (Honoris Causa) by University of Engineering & Management, (UEM) Jaipur. Email anandjs55@yahoo.com 

Biblio-link: https://sites.google.com/view/bibliography-dr-jernal-singh/home   

Value-of-Art-Kandinsky-scaled
Courtesy: Encyclopedia of Philosophy

ART

Art is not short for artificial

But what is not normal.

What is

A bit twisted

Looks artistic.

 

Our wishes do not run

In straight lines

Nor is there any exactitude

Mind is a whim-ridden horse

Willful like a river

 

When I look at a car

I see its twists and turns

Its body could have

Made a straight line

But then, who would love it?

 

The idea of beauty

Is the idea of twisting the normal

Beauty is another name

For re-patterning things

How you comb and tie your hair?

How you can look beautiful.

 

Look. The operative word

Of all art is

Appear. Look.

A character has to look

Like a beggar, a king, a queen

And talk alike.

 

Art has an aura of something

Which is made up

A sense of something unreal

Something cooked up

In order to press in some message.

 

Art is an accentuated language

Of reality

It says what neither words

Nor men can say

It runs parallel to history

And condenses the conscience of the times.

***

ScreenshotBACK TO HER HOLINESS! THE EARTH

If I scatter any food item

On the earth,

It is like giving back to it

What I got in so many variations

 

Even when I place it on a concrete surface

Which blocks its contact

With the earth

It sends ants and dogs

 

Earth claims back in small doses

What it gives in lump sum

We men who come

In huge mass

 

Are meant to scatter ourselves away

Back to the earth

And finally carry it

In ashes to the rivers

 

Earth allows us to build castles

Air too does not mind them

Nights like to see men

Snore out their dreams

 

Life exerts resistance to men

When they overthink

And gods too raise their brow

When we overpray

 

Earth tolerates mountains because

They look respectfully

At the valleys they have dug

Not men who harbour hatred for the downtrodden.

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Read: Unreal – Mystic Poetry from India

Chandabhaga Poetry Festival 2025 Brings Global Poets to Konark, Odisha, India

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Chandabhaga Poetry Festival 2025 Brings Global Poets to Konark, Odisha, India

The Chandabhaga Poetry Festival (CPF) 2025, scheduled for January 11-12, promises to be a celebration of diverse poetic voices and cultures

Konark, Odisha

The Chandabhaga Poetry Festival (CPF) 2025, scheduled for January 11-12, promises to be a celebration of diverse poetic voices and cultures. Hosted at the historic town of Konark, in collaboration with Centurion University and the Institute of Knowledge Societies (IKS), the festival will feature an engaging lineup of sessions, discussions, and performances by renowned poets from India and around the world.

A Platform for Poetic Diversity

With over two days of events, the Chandabhaga Poetry Festival 2025 is set to celebrate the power of poetry in fostering cross-cultural connections and dialogue. This year’s festival reflects the growing importance of multilingual expression and cross-border collaboration in the arts.

The Chandabhaga Poetry Festival 2025 features an impressive lineup of poets and critics from around the world. Participants include Christopher Merrill, Prof. Debi Prasanna Pattanayak, Jatin Das, Arun Kamal, Sukrita Kumar, E.V. Ramakrishnan, Manoranjan Mohanty, Savita Singh, Supriya Patnaik, Prabhat Kumar Basu, Chandrabhanu Pattnayak, Saroj Mohanty, Bina Sarkar, Sebanti Ghosh, Ashutosh Parida, Durga Prasad Panda, Jitendra Srivastava, Anshuman Kar, Swapan Mishra, Sharmila Ray, Yuyutsu Sharma, Anita Nahal, Nishi Chawla, Sujata Sahani, Satyendra Bhoi, Pratiskha Jena, Chirasree Indrasingh, Satyapriya Mishra, Ramesh Kartik Nayak, Punam Vasam, Meenakshi Mohan, Praful Basu, Jayanta Parmer, Kabir Deb, Kinshuk Gupta, Rabindra R Swain, Aditya Das, Aye Brandon Kiwen, Kavi Yakoob, Ashraf Aboul-Yazid (Ashraf Dali), Smita Sahay, Sutunaku Ghosh, Ashutosh Dubey, Daniel Raika, Hemant Dalapati, Sabin Iqbal, Anuradha Singh, Hindol Bhattacharjee, Narendra Bhoi, Salma, Rukaya M.K., Kamalkar Bhatt, Meenakshi Mohan, Jayadratha Suna, Sebanti Ghosh, Satyananda Bhoi, Sreelakshmi Chakraborty, and Ashwani Kumar. This diverse group of luminaries ensures a vibrant and inspiring celebration of poetry, blending voices from various regions and traditions.

India-Poetry-Festival-Sindh Courier-1Day 1 Highlights (January 11, 2025)

Inauguration:

The festival will commence at 10:00 AM with an inaugural session featuring addresses by key dignitaries, including Manoranjan Mohanty, Chairperson of CPF, and Prof Supriya Patnaik, Vice-Chancellor of Centurion University. Esteemed critic and poet Prof Debi Prasanna Pattanayak will deliver a keynote on “Odia as a Classical Language.”

Poetry Book Releases: The opening ceremony will also mark the release of selected works, including the highly anticipated Posters Poems by the iconic Jayanta Mahapatra.

Panel Discussions and Celebrations: The morning sessions will include panels on trends in Indian poetry, with insights from EV Ramakrishnan and others. A special session celebrating the legacy of Jayanta Mahapatra will feature reflections from prominent poets like Rabindra K Swain and Swapan Mishra.

Cultural Evening: The day will culminate with a cultural evening featuring a traditional “Pot Gan” performance by Rupashree Nayak and her team.

Day 2 Highlights (January 12, 2025)

Morning Sessions: The second day will open with a multilingual poetry session highlighting voices like Sujata Sahani and Hemant Dalpai. Following this, the festival will explore themes of vanishing lands and poetic identities, with contributions from Sonya Jha and Kabir Deb.

Multilingual and Cross-Border Poetry: An afternoon session titled “Singing Turtles, Dancing Peacocks” will feature poets like Jayadratha Suna and Narendra Bhoi, alongside a global panel.

Valedictory Session: The festival will conclude with a valedictory session led by Christopher Merrill, an acclaimed poet and the Director of the International Writing Program at the University of Iowa. Merrill’s address, titled “Blending Past & Present: Poetry of Future,” will be followed by a final vote of thanks by the organizing team.

Book Releases: The CPF 2025 will also unveil a range of new poetry collections, including Rangasha Ki Rasoi by Arun Kamal and Prema Eka Bilupta Pakhi Ra Na by Durga Prasad Panda.

Read: 16th Issue of Odiya Literary Magazine ‘Mahuri’ unveiled

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India becomes Taliban’s ‘significant regional partner’

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India becomes Taliban’s ‘significant regional partner’

India’s Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri met acting Taliban Foreign Minister Amir Khan Muttaqi in Dubai on Wednesday

  • No foreign government, including India, officially recognizes the Taliban administration. Yet in June 2022, less than a year after the Taliban returned to power, India reopened its embassy in Kabul, sending a team of “technical experts” to run the mission.

Dubai

The Taliban has called India a “significant regional and economic partner” after a meeting was held between senior foreign ministry officials of the two countries, the highest such talks since the Afghan group’s takeover of Kabul in 2021, reports Aljazeera.com.

India’s Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri met acting Taliban Foreign Minister Amir Khan Muttaqi in Dubai on Wednesday, reports said.

In a statement later, Afghanistan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs said they discussed expanding their relations and boosting trade through Chabahar Port in Iran, which India has been developing for goods to bypass the ports of Karachi and Gwadar in its rival Pakistan.

“In line with Afghanistan’s balanced and economy-focused foreign policy, the Islamic Emirate aims to strengthen political and economic ties with India as a significant regional and economic partner,” the statement said.

India’s foreign ministry said in a statement after the meeting that New Delhi was considering engaging in development projects in Afghanistan and looking to boost trade ties.

India, which hosts thousands of Afghan refugees, also said it will provide “material support” for their rehabilitation back home. Some one million refugees have been repatriated by Pakistan and Iran to Afghanistan since late 2023.

“In response to the request from the Afghan side, India will provide further material support in the first instance to the health sector and for the rehabilitation of refugees,” India’s foreign ministry said in its statement.

Afghan officials say they have already begun distributing land among the repatriated Afghan refugees.

India also said it offered additional support to the Afghan health sector as the two countries discussed strengthening of sports ties, particularly in cricket.

No foreign government, including India, officially recognizes the Taliban administration. Yet in June 2022, less than a year after the Taliban returned to power, India reopened its embassy in Kabul, sending a team of “technical experts” to run the mission.

Meanwhile, Afghanistan’s embassy in New Delhi was closed in November 2023 after diplomats appointed by the Afghan government ousted by the Taliban failed to secure visa extensions from their Indian hosts.

However, in November last year, the Taliban announced the appointment of Ikramuddin Kamil as its acting consul in Mumbai.

India is also one of several countries to facilitate trade, aid and medical support and has sent humanitarian aid to Afghanistan under the Taliban.

New Delhi has so far dispatched several shipments consisting of wheat, medicines, COVID vaccines, and winter clothing to Afghanistan.

Read: Afghan, India officials talk expansion of ties

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Courtesy: Central Asian Light (Posted on January 10, 2025)

Exploring the Poetic Universe of Anna Keiko: A Voice Beyond Borders

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Exploring the Poetic Universe of Anna Keiko: A Voice Beyond Borders

Anna Keiko, a celebrated Chinese poetess, enchants readers with her evocative and thought-provoking poetry that bridges all kinds of divides

By Mohammad Mohi Uddin

Introduction

Anna Keiko, a celebrated Chinese poetess, enchants readers with her evocative and thought-provoking poetry that bridges all kinds of divides. Her works delve into profound contemporary and timeless themes, addressing the complexities of the human condition with exceptional depth. Recognized globally for her literary contributions, Keiko masterfully balances introspection and universal appeal in her verses. This critical appreciation explores her thematic range, the interplay of subjectivity and objectivity, and her distinctive poetic style, uncovering the elements that make her poetry resonate deeply with readers across the world.

Thematic Variety

Anna Keiko’s poetry exhibits an impressive range of themes, encompassing environmental consciousness, human resilience, existential musings, cultural identity, and spirituality. Her works reflect a profound engagement with both timeless and contemporary issues, offering a multifaceted exploration of the human experience.

A recurring theme in Keiko’s poetry is the delicate relationship between humanity and nature. In poems such as “Pay Attention to the Earth’s Breath” and “Utopia,” she critiques the reckless exploitation of the environment, portraying it as a betrayal of Earth’s nurturing spirit. She emphasizes the urgency of ecological preservation, blending lyrical imagery with an impassioned plea for sustainable living.

Human conflict and resilience form another cornerstone of her poetry. Works like “After the Disaster” and “Where Is Civilization” delve into the destructive nature of war and its aftermath. By addressing global injustices and the collective trauma of humanity, Keiko evokes a powerful sense of empathy and accountability.

Keiko’s exploration of existential themes is evident in pieces like “Loneliness in the Blood” and “Rebirth.” These poems navigate the depths of human emotions, illustrating the interplay between despair and hope, loss and renewal. Through vivid imagery and metaphor, she reflects on the transient nature of life and the enduring quest for meaning.

Cultural identity and heritage also feature prominently in her work. Poems such as “Rivers” and “Rebirth” draw upon Chinese mythology and history, connecting personal and collective experiences. Keiko celebrates the richness of her cultural roots while also critiquing its complexities and contradictions.

In addition, spirituality and metaphysical inquiry permeate her verses. In “Standing Before Jesus” and “Prophetic Vision,” she juxtaposes human struggles with divine aspirations, exploring the tension between faith and doubt.

By interweaving these themes, Anna Keiko crafts poetry that resonates universally, bridging individual introspection with collective consciousness and fostering a deep connection with her readers.

Subjectivity vs. Objectivity

Anna Keiko’s poetry strikes a delicate balance between subjective introspection and objective observation. Poems like “Reading” and “Waiting to Hear from You” are deeply personal, brimming with intimate reflections and emotions. They evoke an inner world shaped by longing, imagination, and memory, drawing readers into her personal journey.

On the other hand, works such as “After the Disaster” and “Sight May Not Be Real” adopt a more objective tone, addressing universal concerns about environmental degradation, historical legacy, and societal upheaval. These poems step beyond individual experience to critique collective human actions, revealing a global consciousness. This interplay between the personal and the universal enriches her poetry, making it relatable yet profoundly thought-provoking.

Style and Structure of Her Verses

Keiko’s poetry is characterized by its intricate use of literary devices and imaginative imagery. She employs metaphors and symbols, as in “The Tongue that Subverts the Order,” where nature’s harmony is disrupted by human greed, symbolized through violent imagery of mutilated landscapes. Similes abound, as in “Lonely in the Blood,” where human emotions are likened to roses trapped in bottles, conveying both beauty and confinement.

Her vivid imagery transforms the abstract into tangible experiences. For example, in “Airless,” the city becomes “an iron bucket,” encapsulating the suffocating reality of modern existence. Hyperboles, like the depiction of environmental disasters in “Unsolved,” amplify the urgency of her themes. Allusions to cultural, historical, and religious figures, such as in “Standing Before Jesus,” enrich her work with layers of meaning, bridging Eastern and Western faith.

Structurally, Keiko employs rhymed and free verse, allowing her ideas to flow organically. The irregular lineation mirrors the unpredictability of her themes, while enjambments create a rhythm that sustains the reader’s engagement. Her language, while rooted in poetic elegance, is accessible, ensuring her messages resonate widely.

Takeaways for Readers from Her Poetry

Environmental Awareness

Keiko’s poetry emphasizes the fragile relationship between humanity and nature, urging readers to recognize their role in protecting the environment and preserving the Earth’s beauty for future generations.

Appreciation of Life’s Dualities

Her verses highlight the coexistence of creation and destruction, joy and sorrow, urging readers to embrace life’s complexities with resilience and understanding.

Self-Reflection and Awareness

Keiko’s introspective poems encourage readers to pause and look within, fostering personal growth and a deeper understanding of their emotions and identity.

Empathy for Human Struggles

Her work sensitizes readers to the shared pain, struggles, and triumphs of humanity, promoting a sense of compassion for the challenges faced by others.

Call to Action Against Injustice

Through her powerful imagery and poignant themes, Keiko inspires readers to confront societal injustices and advocate for positive change in their communities.

Appreciation for the Interconnectedness of Life

Her poetry often underscores the interconnectedness of all living things, encouraging readers to find harmony in their relationships with nature, others, and themselves.

Celebration of Beauty and Creativity

Keiko’s rich language and imagery remind readers to find beauty in everyday moments, inspiring them to see the world through a more poetic and imaginative lens.

Conclusion

Anna Keiko’s poetry is a remarkable fusion of aesthetic brilliance and social critique. Her thematic diversity, stylistic dexterity, and ability to weave subjectivity with universal concerns make her a compelling voice in contemporary literature. By capturing the essence of human experiences and addressing global challenges, Keiko leaves an indelible impression on readers, reminding them of the enduring power of poetry to inspire change and foster connection.

Read: Sunrise of hope – Poetry from China

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Anna Keiko (Poetess)

Anna Keiko Shanghai China - Sindh CourierAnna Keiko, a distinguished poetess and essayist from Shanghai, China, has made a profound impact on contemporary literature. A graduate of Shanghai East China University with a Bachelor’s degree in Law, she has achieved global recognition for her poetry, which has been translated into more than 30 languages and published in over 500 journals, magazines, and media outlets across 40 countries. Keiko is the founder and chief editor of the ACC Shanghai Huifeng Literature Association and serves as a Chinese representative and director of the International Cultural Foundation Ithaca. Her affiliations extend to Immagine & Poesia in Italy and the Canadian-Cuban Literary Union, reflecting her commitment to fostering cross-cultural literary exchanges. Her poetic oeuvre spans six collections, including “Lonely in the Blood and Absurd Language”, showcasing her exploration of human emotions, environmental concerns, and existential themes. Her innovative style and evocative imagery have earned her numerous accolades, such as the 30th International Poetry Award in Italy and the World Peace Ambassador Certificate in 2024. Notably, she was the first Chinese recipient of the Cross-Cultural Exchange Medal for Significant Contribution to World Poetry, awarded in the United States in 2023. Her works, including “Octopus Bones” and other acclaimed poems, have resonated with readers worldwide, garnering invitations to prominent international poetry festivals and conferences. Her dedication to the arts extends beyond poetry, encompassing prose, essays, lyrics, and drama, underscoring her versatility as a writer. Nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2020, Anna Keiko continues to break barriers, bringing Chinese literature to the global stage.

Mohammad Mohi Uddin (Critique)

Mohammad Mohi Uddin- Sindh courierMohammad Mohi Uddin is a multifaceted individual with expertise in poetry, translation, and criticism. His literary works have been published locally and globally. He currently serves as a Graduate Research Assistant, Graduate Senator, Graduate Ambassador, and Delegate in the Graduate Student Association at The University of Alabama in the United States. Pursuing a PhD in Instructional Technology at the same university, Mohi is also a, contributing significantly to his academic community. As a published author, his writing aims to connect with readers on a deeper level and offer insight into the human experience. Through his work, he hopes to inspire spiritual growth and offer solutions to the struggles of the human soul. His area of special interest covers poetry, creative writing, and translation. His works appeared locally and globally in numerous publications, too. Furthermore, some poems have been translated into Spanish, Greek, and Filipino. A Mexican Radio Station airs some poems. He takes part in literary interviews locally and globally. In addition, he has some collaborative projects with foreign authors.

Observations of an Expat: The Deep State

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Observations of an Expat: The Deep State

What is the “Deep State”? How will President Donald Trump dismantle it? And why is it more likely that he will end up re-constructing it with a deeper, more biased political complexion.

By Tom Arms

What is the “Deep State”? How will President Donald Trump dismantle it? And why is it more likely that he will end up re-constructing it with a deeper, more biased political complexion.

If you are Donald Trump and his supporters the deep state is a living, breathing conspiracy of liberals who thwart their ambitions and conservative beliefs of how America should be run.

The deep state are a swamp of the journalists, teachers, university professors, lawyers, judges, civil libertarians, civil servants and politicians who believe that Trump lost the 2020 election and should be held accountable for his many alleged crimes.

To Trump and his supporters the deep state is comprised of regulators who block libertarian-minded Republican businessmen from opening an open-cast mine in a national park. Or they are the petti-fogging bureaucrat who stops them from planting a vegetable patch in their front garden. In short, the enemies of the deep state are those who believe that the state has gone too far in encroaching on individual liberties.

Americans love to hark back to the free-wheeling early days of the Republic. In 1800 the ratio of un-elected federal and state employees to the population as a whole was 0.05 percent. In 2024 the proportion had increased five-fold.

There are good reasons for the multiplying civil service. Over the past 225 years the world has become more complex. Special interest groups have proliferated. Elected officials have passed millions of new laws which now require an army of civil servants to administer.

180521_r32095webRead:  Trump vs. the “Deep State”

A series of surveys by Partnership for Public Service show that roughly 60 percent of those civil servants are Democrats as opposed to 45 percent in the population as a whole. They also donate to liberal causes, especially if they are involved in environmental protection, diplomacy, education, social services and civil rights—the areas where Trump wants the biggest cuts. The military, homeland security and immigration are largely immune from the Republican axe and enmity. Not surprisingly their ranks are disproportionately filled with conservative Republicans.

Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy have been tasked with the job of reducing the federal budget by $6 trillion by cutting the workforce by 75 percent. They plan to achieve this by using Trump’s decree powers to hold a bonfire of regulations. No more regulations, no need for civil servants to administer them.

To further swing the civil service away from the liberals Trump wants to replace some of the sacked employees with MAGA loyalists. At the moment about 4,000 federal jobs are political appointments. Trump says he wants to increase that number by a factor of 15. The American civil service already has more political appointments than any other G7 country. Trump’s plans will make it even more so. The Deep State will become more swamp like.

Republicans have made it clear that they will not stop with the civil service. Their target is the entire liberal establishment. The man earmarked for the job of Director of the FBI is Kash Patel. He has said that he will use the agency to pursue Trump’s enemies across the board.

Patel has a wide array of weapons available to him. There are straightforward criminal investigations. These have already been threatened against those who spearheaded impeachment proceedings against Trump during his first term. They include former Speaker Nancy Pelosi, Congressman Adam Schiff and former Republican Congresswoman Liz Cheney.

The charges don’t need any substance. The mere threat means that the targets are forced to lawyer-up at great expense and effort. Their families are already being subjected to social media harassment and death threats from MAGA loyalists.

Another tool is the withdrawal of security clearances from high-ranking civil servants and former politicians. They rely on retaining those clearances for private sector jobs when they are out of office. No clearance. No Job. No money. No influence.

America is proud of its free press. The problem is that a free press relies on profits to remain free. If profits fall then the media becomes susceptible to frivolous law suits and political pressure. They then either have to settle quickly out of court—as ABC News recently did—or resort to self-censorship to stay in business. Donald Trump has outstanding law suits against the Pulitzer Prize board, journalist Bob Woodward, the Des Moines Register, CNN, CBS and MSNBC. He has also threatened to withdraw the broadcasting licenses of ABC, CBS, MSNBC and CNN.

So far Trump has not threatened any individual academics. He has, however, said he would withhold federal funds and accreditation from universities which he believes are opposed to his conservative values and policies.

The soon-to-be inaugurated Trump has also promised retribution against lawyers and judges who have crossed his path. He has demanded the imprisonment of Special Prosecutor Jack Smith, who led investigations into the January 6 riots and the Mar-a-lago documents case. Trump has also demanded the dismissal of Judge Arthur Engoron and Judge Juan Merchan. The former presided over his civil sex abuse trial and the latter over the Manhattan trial which found him guilty of 34 fraud charges.

Chief Justice John Roberts has warned that such attacks undermine the independence of the judiciary. But Trump’s Supreme Court appointments have already called that independence into question.

World-ReviewWorld Review

Trump has three reasons for wanting to acquire Greenland:

1- The world’s largest island has substantial deposits of 43 out of 50 of the “rare earth” minerals.

2- It guards the eastern approach to the melting Northwest Passage

3- It straddles the route that Russian ballistic missiles would take in an attack on America’s East coast.

“Rare earth” minerals are essential to the building of batteries, computer chips and modern defense equipment. The country with the largest rare earth deposits is China. This makes Americans very nervous.

However, just because the minerals are there does not mean they can be easily extracted. Engineers have so far located 150 potential mining sites. But Arctic conditions, a labour shortage and the indigenous Innuits respect for their environment, means that after ten years, only one mine is operational.

In the early days of American exploration hundreds died searching for an ice-free passage through the Canadian Arctic linking Europe and Asia. Global warming means that within a few years ships will finally be breaking through the Northwest Passage. Greenland sits at the eastern end of what will become a major shipping lane.

It has long been recognized that the shortest route for Russian missiles attacking the US is over Greenland and Canada. That is why the US has established an early-warning system at Pituffik Space Base. Some 650 military personnel man radar systems and monitor space debris from their station 750 miles inside Greenland’s Arctic Circle.

But Trump does not need to own Greenland to place military bases there. The US has the right to build whatever military systems it requires under a 1951 treaty with the Danes, who are responsible for Greenland’s defense and foreign affairs. Trump can construct 50 more bases if he wants them.

However, it is also clear that ownership would give America greater control in other areas. It would, for instance, enable the US to introduce lax mining regulations in order to fully exploit the island’s untapped natural resources. This would, however, run counter to the daily lifestyle of the 57,000 Greenlanders who place a high premium on maintaining their unique—albeit cold– way of life.

American conservatives fought tooth and nail against relinquishing control of the Panama Canal. When the new revised treaty came before the Senate in 1977 it squeaked by with just one vote to spare.

It is not surprising therefore that ultra-conservative Donald Trump wants it back.

Unfortunately for the soon-to-be president, the reasons he has given for the re-acquisition range from outright lies to commercially dubious.

To start with, Trump says that the 50-miles of locks linking the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans is now occupied by Chinese troops. Thus America’s security is threatened. Next, is the claim that Panama is singling out American shipping and charging it unfair prices.

It is true that China has invested heavily in Panama since 2017 when the Panamanians switched diplomatic recognition from Taiwan to Mainland China. The Chinese have built bridges, a railway line and a cruise ship terminal. The Hong Kong-based company Hutchison Port Holdings has also secured the contract to manage terminal facilities at both ends of the canal.

But there are no Chinese soldiers in Panama. That is a lie. If there were troops that would be a casus belli for US intervention. Under the terms of the existing US-Panama treaty, America retains the right to intervene if its security interests are threatened.

As for the increased charges. Yes, they have risen 5-10 percent – for everyone, regardless of the national origin of their vessel. The money is needed for a $5.25 billion expansion program to recoup traffic that has been lost due to competition from the Suez Canal, covid and several years of drought. These factors combined with the opening of the Northwest Passage mean that Panama’s slice of the world shipping has dropped from six to five percent. To regain market share the canal authorities must charge more to improve facilities in order to compete.

Finally, there is the possibility of another reason for the Trumpian designs on the Canal Zone–immigration. An increasing number of migrants crossing the American southern border are coming from Venezuela via Panama and the treacherous Darien Gap. Control would create another block.

Adolf Hitler called himself “Volkskanzler”. Austria’s Herbert Kickl wants to use the same title if he succeeds in forming a government.

The link between the two Austrians is unsurprising. Kickl is leader of the far-right Freedom Party (FPO). The party has been junior partner in five Austrian coalitions, but the Social Democrats (SPO) and Centre-right People’s Party (OVP) have so far refused to participate in any government led by the FPO.

That may be about to change. After elections held in September, the FPO won the most parliamentary seats with 31 percent of the vote. President Alexander Van der Bellen pushed the other parties to reach an agreement that excluded Kickl and the FPO. But despite the high stakes, the other parties failed to resolve their differences and President Van der Bellen has reluctantly turned to Kickl who this week started negotiations with the OVP.

The two parties agree on a few things: the public wearing of hijabs, tax cuts and reduced benefits for immigrants and asylum seekers. But that is about it. A hint of the differences can be found in the title Kickl gave his party’s election manifesto—“Fortress Austria.”

Among the policies he is pursuing is a complete ban on asylum applications and the “remigration” (another term for expulsion) of “uninvited foreigners.”

Kickl also maintains close links with the Identitarian Movement who are anti-LGBTQ, anti-EU, anti-Semitic and anti-Muslim. Their leaders have been photographed throwing Nazi salutes and endorsed Kickl in the election. For his part, Kickl has called the Identitarians “an interesting project worthy of support.”

Where the OVP and FPO are most likely to fall out is over the issue of Russia and Ukraine. Kickl, an MEP, stormed out of an address to the European Parliament by Ukrainian President Volodomyr Zelensky. He has called for an end to EU sanctions against Russia which he claims breach Austria’s neutrality laws. He also opposes the German-backed European Sky Shield Initiative and supports Vladimir Putin’s claim that the Russian invasion was in response to NATO encirclement.

The one thing that may prevent Kickl from becoming Volkskanzler is the enmity between him and OVP leader Christian Stocker who once told him: “Mr Kickl, nobody in this parliament wants you. Nobody in this republic needs you either.”

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Tom Arms Journalist Sindh Courier
Tom Arms

Tom Arms is foreign editor of Liberal Democrat Voice. He is also the author of “The Encyclopedia of the Cold War” and “America Made in Britain.”

Read: Observations of an Expat: Syrian Butterfly
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