4 vetoes for genocide and a poem on America’s insatiable bloodlust

The US is keen on the genocide of 2.3 million people in Gaza, come what may.

The United States this week vetoed a ceasefire resolution in Gaza at the United Nations for the fourth time since Israel’s genocidal campaign began last October. 12,000 massacred Palestinian children haven’t satiated America’s Molochian bloodlust as it continues to financially fund, militarily support, and internationally protect its genocidal ally in the Middle East.

The veto comes at a time when the Zionist regime, which is being tried at the International Court of Justice for a plausible case of genocide, is preparing for an assault against more than 1.5 million starving and emaciated Gazans now concentrated in Rafah.

The veto was as much a surety as the sunrise tomorrow. America won’t stop until the Israelis are done with their genocidal project. And they are not getting done anytime soon, as Netanyahu declared last week: “Those who want to prevent us from operating in Rafah are basically telling us: lose the war.” He added: “It’s true that there’s a lot of opposition abroad, but this is exactly the moment that we need to say that we won’t be doing a half or a third of the job.”

Israelis haven’t hidden their definition of the job. They have always been clear about their intention of a complete ethnic cleansing of all Palestinians from their land. Netanyahu made it clear at the UN of all places, displaying a map in September 2023 in which all of Palestine was erased.

Netanyahu and his band of bloodthirsty genocidaires can always count on America’s support in their genocidal project.

Having invaded countries near and far, including Korea, Guatemala, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Grenada, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Yugoslavia, Panama, Peru, Indonesia, Sudan, Iraq, Kuwait, Somalia, Afghanistan, Libya, Pakistan, and most recently, Yemen, among others just since the Second World War, the US is a natural ally for any genocidal entity. More so if it’s Israel.

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American brutality in the Global South has been a recurring subject for the Indian subcontinent’s revolutionary poets, many of whom beautifully captured the grotesque American butchery in their poetic verses.

One such poet, Ahmad Faraz (1931 - 2008) — a friend of Faiz Ahmad Faiz (whose poetry has been featured several times in this newsletter) — penned a poem titled “Kaali diwaar” (Black wall), referring to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington DC following a visit to the monument.

Faraz, just like Faiz, was as delicate at writing romance as he was in his scathing critiquing of injustice and oppression. In the poignant “Kaali diwaar”, he captures the relatives’ longing for the loved ones who went up in flames in Vietnam while simultaneously critiquing the American lust for stealing resources of other nations at any cost.

Some years ago, while scouring YouTube for videos of Faraz’s poetry recitals, I came across this poem. The ongoing American depravity in Gaza reminded me of it again.

Here’s a transliteration of the poem (originally in Urdu) followed by a translation (my own) in English (you can listen to Faraz reciting it at a mushayra — poetry symposium — in the link above):

Kaali diwaar
[Black wall]

kal washington shahr ki ham ne sair bahut ki yaar
guunj rahi thi sab duniya me jis ki jai-jai-kaar

[we roamed all of yesterday in Washington’s lanes
the city renowned across the globe’s vast plains]

mulkon mulkon ham ghume the banjaron ki misl
lekin is ki saj-dhaj sach-much dil-daaron ki misl

[we roamed all corners of the world like the nomads
but the adornments of this place are like no place else]

raushniyon ke rang bahen yuun rasta nazar na aa.e
man ki aankhon vaala bhi yaan andha ho ho jaa.e

[rivers of light render the streets unsighted
even the ones with luminous hearts get blinded]

uunche baam charaghan raste rup-bhare bazaar
jaagti aankhon se dekha hai ḳhvabon ka sansar

[skyscrapers towering, markets dazzling, streets ablaze with light
as if beholding a dreamworld in the clarity of waking sight]

ek safed imarat jis ki nagar nagar me dhuum
andar duniya bhar ki kaalak baahar se maasum

[one white house, town’s pride, under spotlight’s shroud,
harbours world’s shadows, yet wears innocence like a cloud]

yahi safed imarat jis men bahut badi sarkar
yahin karen saudagar chhoti qaumon ka byopar

[this white house, where governance is immense,
the stage where merchants barter countries without pretense]

yahin pe jadu-gar baitha jab kahin ki dor hilae
har basti nagasaki hiroshima ban jaae

[in this place, when the sorcerer pulls the string,
towns transform into Hiroshima, Nagasaki]

isi imarat se kuchh duur hi ik kaali diwaar
logon ka mela aisa laga tha jaise koi tyauhar

[just steps from this building, a dark wall stands tall,
where crowds converge as if at a carnival]

is kaali diwaar pe kanda dekhe hazaron naam
in namon ke biich likha tha shohda-e-vietnam

[near this grand edifice, a black wall does claim,
bearing names of those who in Vietnam went aflame]

aas-paas to jama hua tha ḳhilqat ka amboh
sab ki aankhon me sannata chehron par andoh

[around it, crowds amassed, a somber sea of faces,
with eyes quiet, bearing grief’s heavy traces]

bekal bahnen ghayal maaen aur dukhi bevayen
sajan tum kis des sidhare sochen mahbubaen

[restless sisters, wounded mothers, and sad widows
sweetheart, in which land did you bid adios?]

apne pyaron dil-daron ka ojhal mukhda dhunden
is kaali divar pe un ke naam ka tukda dhunden

[they search for the dim outlines of kin once kissed
as they trace their names on this sombre list]

dilon men dukh ankhon me shabnam haathon me phuul uthae
is namon ke qabristan ka bhed koi kya paae

[grief in hearts, tears in eyes, flowers in hands
who can unravel the mystery behind this graveyard of names]

na turbat na katba koi na haddi na maas
phir bhi pagal nainan ko thi piya milan ki aas

[no tomb, no epitaph, no bones, no flesh
still the eyes longed for the beloved’s one glimpse]

kahin kahin is kaali sil par koi safed gulab
yuun be-jaan pada tha jaise andhi aankh ka ḳhvab

[upon this black stone, white roses lie scattered
like hopes a blind eye once dreamt, now shattered]

kaanta ban kar sabhi ke dil me khatke ek saval
kis karan mitti me milae hiron jaise laal

[one question tugged at every heartstring
why did you perish, my precious kin?]

Ho-chi-minh ke des me ham ne kya kya sitam na dhaae
us ke jiyale to aazaadi ka suraj le aaye

[what horrors didn't we unleash in Ho Chi Minh's land,
yet his offspring claimed liberty, what resilient band]

lekin itne chaand ganva kar ham ne bhala kya paaya
ham bad-qismat aise jin ko dhuup mili na saaya

[but what did we harvest, for losing our moons away
we, the luckless, caught neither sunshine nor shadow's play]

mukh moti de kar haasil ki ye kaali diwaar
ye kaali diwaar jo hai bas ik khaali diwaar

[we traded our pearls away for this black wall
this black wall; no more than an empty wall]

ye kaali divar jo hai naamon ka qabristan
Washington ke shahr me dafn hain kis kis ke armaan

[this black wall, a graveyard of names
in Washington lay buried so many dreams]

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American butchery