Bombay Riots 1982

Recruitment in Bombay and Calcutte - Memories

The hotel foyer in turmoil,
Nigerian women arguing about their fare
I wished I had been as brave with my Sikh driver
who had scammed me mercilessly 

Jogappas smothered in kajal accosted me in the fore-court
I settled for one hundred rupees
Aravan, not greedy
Oh that the Sikh would become her devotee
I spurned the offer of fellatio
glad they did not show me their wounded holes

It occurred to me later, that the guards had not
helped the Nigerian women 

Personnel fawned over me
how brave was I to ignore the riots and change hotel
He wagged his head side to side like a broken puppet
When I spoke of the shootings, he changed the subject and said,
The Continental is so impersonal! He meant expensive and crooked 

On the way, passing the crossroad barrier
a Ghurkha officer pointed his baton
A soldier fired, hitting one of the crowd.
As they fled, he turned to my Fiat
pointing the way
we sped off, crunching glass 

Beckenbauer had raved,
S**t country! He had lain in a ditch for an hour
unfamiliar with India
resenting the crowd that grabbed him
Luckily, he was not a woman police constable
These things happened in Britain’s former colonies
life or death hung on a knife edge
or on the whim of a Gurkha officer, 

How smart in his starched shorts
his dark skin and black moustache
his precise military movements
that shed death
Vishnu incarnate!
destroyer of worlds 

We had left Bombay for Calcutta by Air India
fed up with the riots and needing to recruit workers
We jumped from the pan into the brazier. Newspapers read:
Hot irons applied to private regions of Kali devotees by communists. 
Crowds had gathered to watch the castration of the Kali monks
memorable horror. 

Newspaper raved about brides being fired.
I thought, termination of employment
not the literal burning of a bride
from Indian national newspaper reports.

I gave the beggar woman
who offered her baby through the taxi window
for my blessings
she returned my coin demanding a note

I stopped to have my sandal repaired
hand-sewn for a small amount
he asked for a coin
accepted it with with a gentle smile. 

India seduced me
its pealing temple bells
aromas from spices and perfumes
the warm humanity of its people
and the colours that jollied up our expat. lives
all served to woo us. We roistered in the taxi music
as we traversed the river bank road where the washing
hung in coloured miles. Slowing for cows that stepped
daintily that knew no fear of man

Like the Ghurkha officer
these scenes stay with me:  
a girl, in her cotton frock playing on a dung heap
stepping over a beggar lying in the gutter
and I munching a pasty
deadened to his plight as he to mine.
I had done nothing to help the untouchable
who had crept around my feet
picking up crumbs like a vacuum cleaner
What could I do
yet the guilt remains. 

We left India pecking at seeds and nuts
soaking up the coolness from the air conditioning
weighed down with our company travel allowance
carefully totted up and recorded.  

In a newspaper report:
Raza Academy appologised
but explained that Muslims could not have been
responsible for the molestation of the women constables
as that would have been contrary to Islam

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

wow this is so expansive, so deep, and so deeply moving...
if only each of us could do a small part...the sum of the parts could really help lift so many people.

[Frank]

Thank you Jacob, not really a poem, more of flash fiction or better still creative non-fiction. :) I am placing in the IBPC for January and hope it gets somewhere.

We don't know how rich we are in the West jacob, when I saw that poor man dying it broke my heart. But what gets me the most is I did nothing to help.