A Timeless Video Loop of Disaster

A temple was touted as a mosque; a process of 'othering' began soon after; and, sabotage permeated the media, WhatsApp and everything else. But for now, we must give dignity to the dead

- Chinki Sinha

"Olpo olpo megh theke bristi shristi hoi, chotto chotto golpo theke bhalobasha shristi hoi" (Small clouds create rain, small tales create love) -From an unclaimed notebook found in the strewn on the tracks at Bahanaga, the site of June 2 three-train pile-up

THE half-finished poem on a piece of paper is the beginning and an end of an obituary. The final list of the deceased photographs of the Balasore train accident, released by the North 24 Parganas District, has numbers pasted on the mutilated bodies of the dead. At 9 pm on Friday (June 9), I am looking to locate a poet. It is an ambitious task, an exercise in futility and a deeply disturbing endeavour. Smashed heads, half-open eyes, crushed eyes. I started writing an obituary. But how can I disregard any possibility of the poet being alive. Until the government confirms that the poet is dead, I will keep searching. The poet didn't sign off with a name. The diary was found next to a bag. But there were no markings on the bag. No name, no address. The poet had drawn a peacock on a page, and a rose on another. Then, there was another fragment of another poem about clouds. More flowers on more pages. More words. Never any name. Railways officials have said the bodies are so crushed and mangled that it is difficult to identify them. Fingers are lost in many cases or have been mutilated so badly that even thumbprints can’t be taken to find their identities.