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Rest in Rage, Comrade Vidrohi!

Comrade Vidrohi is no more. Met him in good health even a few months back in Delhi, so sort of unbelievable to hear of his passing. He was one my most favourite living poets. Feeling incredibly sad today.
Comrade Vidrohi had truly declassed himself as well as his poetry. He was an organic intellectual in its truest sense, and lived like an urban hermit amongst the people and students in Delhi, after he had dropped out of JNU, where, it is said, he insisted on speaking his thesis, not writing it out.
He was an oral poet. He never wrote a line of poetry. He spoke poetry. He cried poetry. He vomited poetry and he spat out poetry at the ruling classes. He didn’t believe in private property and had no belongings so to say. Although he had family, he lived his life among everyone, not in domestic confines.
I wonder if there will be another like him. I can never get over his poems on women, where he almost speaks from under a woman’s skin, and it’s difficult to tell that a man is creating these poems. The sense of history and continuity and oppression and rage and imagery of endless inevitable indefatigable rebellion that got sown into his poetry was something that could only be felt, and best felt when you heard Vidrohi himself say his poems.
Our times could not understand him properly. His significance, as a poet and a living communist artist in the people’s midst. Maybe future will….
Meanwhile, rest in rage, comrade Vidrohi. The working class, the oppressed women lost a dear saathi today. Lal Salaam.
Listen to some of his poems here:
Ek Aurat ki Jali Huyi Laash: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WrgD…
Here’s an English translation of this  poem by Eye Art Collective:
“har sabhyata ke muhane pe ek aurat ki jail huyi laash
aur insaano ki bikhri hui haddiyan,

yeh laash jwali nahi jwalai gayi hain,
yeh haddiyan bikhri nahi bikheri gayi hain,
yeh aag lagi nahi lagayi gayi hain,
yeh ladai chhidi nahi chhedi gayi hain-
lekin kavita bhi likkhi nahi, likkhi gayi hain,
aur jab kavita likkhi jati hain toh aag bhark jati hain.
Main kahta hu mujhe bachao mere logon is aag se

Tum woh saare log milke mujhko bachao
jinke khun ke gare se
pyramid bane, minaret bane, diwaare bane,
kiyuki mujhko bachana uss stree ko bachana hain
jiski laash Mohenjodaro ki talab ke akhri siri par pari hui hain”
“On the stepping stone of every civilization
there’s a burnt corpse of a woman
and scattered bones of humans,
this corpse is not burnt, but has been burnt,
these bones are not scattered, but have been scattered,
this fire hasn’t caught, but has been made to catch ,
this war has not started by itself, but has been started by someone or something –
but poetry is also not already written,
someone has written it,
and when poetry is written by people
the fire is boosted.
I am asking you people to save me from this fire

Save me, you all
from whose blood the pyramids,

the monuments and the walls have been made,
because saving me is also saving that woman
whose corpse is lying on the last step of the pond in Mohanjodaro.”

Noor Miyan Ka Surma: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KokK…

Main Yeh Hone Nahin Doonga: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vltD…
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Written by Com. Kasturi Basu.

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