What a cloudy morning this is, President's Day 2007. So many bits of news are crowding our consciousness, and threads dart out from each one to connect to the other.
Bombs have gone off on a "Peace Train" between India and Pakistan and at least 65 people have been killed.
I look at the pictures.
This thread darts out. The boy in the picture above resembles, just a little, my son, who lives here with me in America and has the day off from school for Presidents Day.
I look, among several other publications, at The New York Times report where these words from reporter Somini Sengupta bring tears to my eyes: "By the time the bodies were pulled out of the train, the Attari Express, they were so thoroughly burned that it was difficult to tell who they were, let alone say whether they were Indian or Pakistani."
This thread darts out --Will my students one day do such succinct yet poignant, controlled reporting? No opinion in those words of Sengupta's, just the facts, but the fact itself is that brutal death, once again, obliterates the assumed aggression of nationalist identity the way no Peace Train ever could.
This thread darts out -- The word "peace" is so loaded, so tired, so exhausted with baggage. And then I think of the term "Peace Train." That's the translation for "Samjhauta Express," the train on which men, women and children were charred to death. It's a bi-weekly train that runs every Tuesday and Friday, carrying people to and from the India-Pakistan border. "Peace Train" is also the name of a very hopeful song by Yusuf Islam (aka Cat Stevens) that's used recently in a little video presentation using images from Tehran, Iran, to urge Americans to beware that a War Train from Washington is hurtling toward that country now.
This thread darts out -- Is America really going to go to war with Iran? A close friend gleefully supported the idea last night. I tried to take my mind off that troubling conversation by logging on to the news online. The first thing I saw was the news about the train blasts in India, minutes after it had happened.
Many threads darted out. None of them will tie up together neatly.
1 comment:
i went to watch a matinee show of rahul dholakia' 'parzania'. (they wouldnt dare show it at night, who knows what will happen?) it was mid week, but the show was packed. there are no neat threads in parzania. the film is a full-throated scream. was relieved and touched with the audience response. barely anyone was breathing, no titters, no comments. misted eyes and gentler faces on our way out, where there were opaque strangers before. very special.
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