The Nasaka and A Rohingya

The Nasaka and A Rohingya 

Ro Mayyu Ali

RB Poem

April 3, 2017

I was born to a bona fide 

By the genetic of Rohingya 

And it's Nasaka as a foetus 

In the womb of my country's dictatorship 

Known as one of the world's most brutal Juntas 

Perhaps, it's in 1991's Myanmar. 

In scorching heat of 1992, 

He with thousands of comrades 

In over hundreds of settlements 

With quite switch of Junta's past strategies 

Taken encounter into my heaven 

Not only to hack the branches 

But to eliminate the entire root 

"Look! A Bengali student! 

He'll pass matric and marry a wife who gives 10 million kyats. That's the only benefit of his educating in our Buddhist country!" 

Still echoing into my head 

What he told me in a check post 

While going to sit for my matric exam 

How could I forget each of his? 

He and me, not less than a pair 

Even he from royal Junta 

And I from prey of Rohingyas 

How much he's called me 'Bengali' 

In his tone of red-nose mood 

Never be the equal grand of 

My mom ever called me 'Dear' 

Moment of my frequent glimpse 

Into the hidden chapter of his reign 

A time of my heart feeling goes out 

Fear is my first feeling 

When I open my eyes in morning 

Just life in empty joy 

Sound sleep through the lonesome dark 

Because of chronic and traumatic 

Shame and guiltiness begin to surround 

Thought of ending life is common 

I might forget his feature 

Shall never I forget 

How he made me feel in my boyhood. 

What he led me suffering 

In full guile of rigor and rampage 

A high-court level of sobs and wails 

Identities were confiscated. 

Testimonies were degraded. 

Peak of denial in every step 

Tangible coercion for every breath 

In a very short length of stay, 

Everything in our life descended 

Into a whirlpool of wreckage 

And ornament of havoc, as well 

Ah! How allergic all of his were! 

Every single practice of his flares 

The dark pines of our mind dip deeper. 

Women are widowed and single. 

New-born are without certificates. 

Children are lack of welfare. 

Young people are broken. 

All lost hope and are traumatized. 

To a group, every string is well-cutted off. 

This is the way a group of people be expelled 

Not with a mass slaughter 

But with whimper after whimper 

Indeed, he's one of the most doleful 

Of genocidal operations against Rohingya 

So even the masterpiece of Bengalization to elite Rohingya 

He's the one 

Who herds affection towards the animosity 

He's the one 

Who turns other's dream to nightmare 

He's the one 

Who keeps people dead being alive 

At the end his decade, 

All ever has he well set up 

Bequeathing his innate legacy 

The victory he sought was won 

And farewell in laughter and flavour 

On 15 of June, 2013, 

He the cobra saw the bound of the halt 

And transformed to BGP 

And I'm made an incredible illegal immigrant. 

Verily, I'm made an immigrant Bengali. 

I'm seen as a Bengali. 

And now I'm a Bengali. 

A Myanmar's well-generated Bengali! 

The poet is an original Rohingya. He himself was the victim of Nasaka operation. Nasaka, the Burmese term called to Border Immigration Forces. In 1992, it's established by Myanmar's Junta administration to set up the genocidal strategies against Rohingya. After 2012-June violence, it officially came to a halt on 5 of March, 2013. And now it is seen as the Border Guard Police (BGP) in Northern Rakhine State.