Nadia Anjuman
Nadia Anjuman (1980 – 4 November 2005) was a Persian poet and journalist from Afghanistan. In 2005, while still a student at Herat University, she had her first book of poetry published, Gul-e-dodi ("Dark Red Flower") which proved popular in Afghanistan, Pakistan and even nearby Iran. Then, on November 4 of that year, police officers found her body in her home in the western city of Herat. Soon afterward, a senior police officer, Nisar Ahmad Paikar, stated that her husband had confessed to battering her, following a row, but not to killing her. It was reported that she died as a result of injuries to her head.
The United Nations condemned the killing soon afterwards. Their spokesperson, Adrian Edwards, said that "[t]he death of Nadia Anjuman, as reported, is indeed tragic and a great loss to Afghanistan... It needs to be investigated and anyone found responsible needs to be dealt with in a proper court of law". Paikar confirmed that her husband had indeed been charged. According to friends and family, Anjuman was apparently a disgrace to her family due to her poetry, which described the oppression of Afghan woman. A selection from one of Nadia Anjuman's poems is as follows: I am caged in this corner / full of melancholy and sorrow... my wings are closed and I cannot fly... I am an Afghan woman and I must wail". During the Taliban regime, Anjuman and other female writers of the Heret literary circle would study banned writers such as William Shakespeare and Fyodor Dostoevsky. Had they been caught, they risked being hanged. In Afghanistan, women still have very little control over their bodies which are seen as "globalized property". Men control 90 percent of the justice system and as a result, access is near impenetrable to Afghan women. Anjuman's death is also a reflection of the current domestic violence in many households where the husband is the ultimate decision maker and the wife is subservient. Similarly, women are required to uphold culture and tradition which are direct reflections of status.
Anjuman was survived by a six-month-old daughter.
Source: Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nadia_Anjuman.
Writings of Nadia Anjuman
I was discarded everywhere, the poetic whisper in my soul died.
Do not search for the meaning of joy in me, all the joy in my heart died.
If you are looking for stars in my eyes, that is a tale that does not exist.
--Nadia Anjuman
Do not question love as it is the inspiration of your pen
My loving words had in mind death
--Nadia Anjuman, "Strands of Steel"
Nadia Anjuman was a poet whose words may have been her downfall. Her own family, which should have tended and cherished her gift, somehow saw only shame in the love and beauty she brought to the world.
Even though I am the daughter of poem and songs
My poem was novice and broken
My autonomous twig did not recognize the hand of the gardener
--Nadia Anjuman, "Strands of Steel"
A poet like Nadia Anjuman can be likened to a caged bird, deprived of flight, who somehow finds it within herself to sing of love and beauty. But when the world finally robs her of both flight and song, what is left for her but to leave the world, thus bereaving the world of herself, her song, and the flights of awe they might have taken together?
I am caged in this corner
full of melancholy and sorrow ...
my wings are closed and I cannot fly ...
I am an Afghan woman and so must wail.
--Nadia Anjuman
For Nadia Anjuman, there may have been a fate worse than death: not to be free to act, not to be free to speak, not to be free to write poetry. But for every constraining band of steel meant to cage, bind and ultimately silence her, she has left enduring words of steel. Truly, she has left her mark.
Do not ask of my blooms great looks
On hands, feet, and tongue strands of steel
on the tablet of time, this will be my mark
--Nadia Anjuman, "Strands of Steel"
Ghazal by Nadia Anjuman
Translated by Khizra Aslam
From this cup of my lips comes a song;
It captures my singing soul, my song.
That in my words is the meaning of ecstasy,
That dies my happiness into grief, my song.
If you see that my eyes say a word,
Then take it as my forgetfulness, my song.
Do not ask of love, O it tells me of you;
My words of love speak of death, my song.
His hope, like flowers, I desire.
No drop of my eyes is enough, my song.
The daughter of this place sings qasida, a ghazal,
But what spoils her strange verses, my song?
O the gardener does not understand my happiness;
O do not ask for many looks of my youth, my song.
From this hands, these feet and words, it looks strange
That my name is written on the slate of this age, my song.
A poem by Nadia Anjoman
Translated by Mahnaz Badihian
No desire to open my mouth
What should I sing of...?
I, who am hated by life.
No difference to sing or not to sing.
Why should I talk of sweetness,
When I feel bitterness?
Oh, the oppressor's feast
Knocked my mouth.
I have no companion in life
Who can I be sweet for?
No difference to speak, to laugh,
To die, to be.
Me and my strained solitude.
With sorrow and sadness.
I was borne for nothingness.
My mouth should be sealed.
Oh my heart, you know it is spring
And time to celebrate.
What should I do with a trapped wing,
Which does not let me fly?
I have been silent too long,
But I never forget the melody,
Since every moment I whisper
The songs from my heart,
Reminding myself of
The day I will break this cage,
Fly from this solitude
And sing like a melancholic.
I am not a weak poplar tree
To be shaken by any wind.
I am an Afghan woman,
It only makes sense to moan
Ghazal by Nadia Anjuman
Translated by Khizra Aslam
There is no desire to speak again; whom to ask, what to say?
I, who was treated ill, what should I not read, what not to say?
What should I tell that honey for me is like poison!
I cry; the fist of the cruel! It teases. Would I not say?
There is no one who knows my affliction, none I trust;
For what should I cry, laugh, die, and live today?
I and this faith; the grief of my failure, and this wishfulness;
I cannot do anything; and the words of affection, if only I could say.
O my heart, there was spring and there was this season of comfort.
But I cannot fly anymore. I want to know to whom should I say ...
Though I am quiet and cannot remember any song,
Yet all the time, something stirs in my heart that I should say.
Ah, remember the good day when this cage was broken;
That loneliness is gone, my delight, I sing the cares away.
I am a frail stick that trembles in air each time;
An Afghan daughter who can say wherever she needs to say.
Ghazal by Nadia Anjuman
Translated by Khizra Aslam
It is night and these words come to me
By the call of my voice words come to me
What fire blazes in me, what water do I get?
From my body, the fragrance of my soul comes to me
I do not know from where these great words come
The fresh breeze takes loneliness away from me
That from the clouds of light comes this light
That there is no other wish that comes to me
The cry of my heart sparkles like a star
And the bird of my flight touches the sky
My madness can be found in his book
O do not say no, my master, O look once at me
It is like the day of judgment
Like doomsday my silence comes at me
I am happy that the giver gives me silk
And all night, all along these verses come to me
Nazm by Nadia Anjuman
Translated by Khizra Aslam
O the one who hides in the mountain of unfamiliarity!
O you that sleep in the quietness of the pearl.
O who remains in the memories!
Bring the memories of transparent water.
In a river like forgetfulness, my mind is full of dust.
The voice that comes from the mountain makes me think
That from the one who destroys, how can you get your golden string?
That the storm of cruelty affects the faith.
How can you get the comfort of a moon from a silver leaf?
There is no death after this!
If the river stops to flow,
And if the clouds open a way to your heart,
And yes, if the daughter of the moon blesses you with her smiles.
If the mountains become soft, greenery grows,
Fruit grows.
And one was kind, from all the unkind.
Will the sun rise?
Will the memories rise with it too?
Those memories that are hidden from our eyes
And while frightened from the flood and the rain of cruelness
Will the light of hope appear?
Memories of light blue by Nadia Anjuman
Translated by David Tayyari
You, exiles of the mountains of oblivion
You, diamonds of your names sleeping in quagmire of silence
You the ones your memories faded, memories of light blue
In the mind of muddy waves of forgotten sea
Where are your clear flowing thoughts?
Where did your peace-marked silver boat moon craft go?
After this death-giving freeze, the sea clams
The clouds, if they clear heart from bitterness
If daughter of moonlight brings kindness, induces smiles
If the mountain softens heart, grows green and
Turns fruitful
One of your names, above the mountain peaks
Will become the sun?
Sunrise of your memories
Memories of light blue
In the eyes of tired-of-flood-water fish and
Scared of rain of darkness
Will it become a sight of hope?
(Translator's Note: "light blue" = "great hopes")
Translators for the poetry of Nadia Anjuyman were arranged by Thomas Fortenberry and Mindfire.