Simply brilliant! I wish I could avoid these smelly clowns in my neighborhood. As I stated few days ago, the word may not be that bad but it makes certain people totally insane. Maybe, it reminds them the nostalgic days of 71? They just do not want to be haunted, let alone be hunted with a sharp penetrating pen . Even innocent razakar-puns make them uncomfortable and nervous for possibility of being unveiled in the public.
-SD
"All great truths begin as blasphemies." GBS

From: Farida Majid <farida_majid@hotmail.com>
To:
Sent: Friday, June 15, 2012 4:53 PM
Subject: [mukto-mona] Poem: A Razakar Haunted


The angry negative responses my poem received among the yahoogroups regulars in 2007-2008 were amazing, overwhelming and totally unexpected. That says how razakarized the cyberspace really is! Most English professors liked the linguistic skills and other literary qualities in it. But not the Jamaat-pasand wallahs and zia-piyari types.
I am posting it again to test the waters and to see if there has been any sea-change. Comments are welcome.



A Razakar Haunted
Farida Majid
We marvel at your sensitivity
and reprove for the word'hunt'
as if, in the phrase 'how to hunt a razakar'
it is not 'razakar' that bears the brunt
of your ire. You insist, the word 'hunt'
incites murder!
Such crafty avoidance! But
why does it hurt being called a razakar?
Was it not you who kissed the boots of Paki hanadar
in the midst (around June, 1971) of a bloody massacre
when Pakistan Military Gazette designated the term 'razakar'
and promulgated an order to employ traitors
to maim, rape and torture fellow Bangalees?
Remember those glorious days when youdid the hunting?
You did not wince, blink and nary a shot miss.
Thousands of precious human lives were lost----
thanks to your awesome, destructive hunt----
none of them less valuable than your own,
the one you boast of with so much pomp and stunt!
So now you get itchy, you growl and grunt,
and oh! how you get all touchy-feely
at the mere hint of a 'hunt'for razakars. Really!
We do not have the pack of hounds
(like those Paki friends of yours) nor bugles
of self-praise to round off a bloody rout.
We just get the wary giggles
when you self-expose your foxy snout.
© 2007 Farida Majid
Published in the Daily Star, Literature Page, on 19th January, 2008.