'September On Jessore Road' by Allen Ginsberg
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Millions of babies watching the skies
Bellies swollen, with big round eyes
On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts
Noplace to shit but sand channel ruts
Millions of fathers in rain
Millions of mothers in pain
Millions of brothers in woe
Millions of sisters nowhere to go
One Million aunts are dying for bread
One Million uncles lamenting the dead
Grandfather millions homeless and sad
Grandmother millions silently mad
Millions of daughters walk in the mud
Millions of children wash in the flood
A Million girls vomit & groan
Millions of families hopeless alone
Millions of souls nineteenseventyone
homeless on Jessore road under grey sun
A million are dead, the million who can
Walk toward Calcutta from East Pakistan
Taxi September along Jessore Road
Oxcart skeletons drag charcoal load
past watery fields thru rain flood ruts
Dung cakes on treetrunks, plastic-roof huts
Wet processions Families walk
Stunted boys big heads don't talk
Look bony skulls & silent round eyes
Starving black angels in human disguise
Mother squats weeping & points to her sons
Standing thin legged like elderly nuns
small bodied hands to their mouths in prayer
Five months small food since they settled there
on one floor mat with small empty pot
Father lifts up his hands at their lot
Tears come to their mother's eye
Pain makes mother Maya cry
Two children together in palmroof shade
Stare at me no word is said
Rice ration, lentils one time a week
Milk powder for warweary infants meek
No vegetable money or work for the man
Rice lasts four days eat while they can
Then children starve three days in a row
and vomit their next food unless they eat slow.
On Jessore road Mother wept at my knees
Bengali tongue cried mister Please
Identity card torn up on the floor
Husband still waits at the camp office door
Baby at play I was washing the flood
Now they won't give us any more food
The pieces are here in my celluloid purse
Innocent baby play our death curse
Two policemen surrounded by thousands of boys
Crowded waiting their daily bread joys
Carry big whistles & long bamboo sticks
to whack them in line They play hungry tricks
Breaking the line and jumping in front
Into the circle sneaks one skinny runt
Two brothers dance forward on the mud stage
Teh gaurds blow their whistles & chase them in rage
Why are these infants massed in this place
Laughing in play & pushing for space
Why do they wait here so cheerful & dread
Why this is the House where they give children bread
The man in the bread door Cries & comes out
Thousands of boys and girls Take up his shout
Is it joy? is it prayer? "No more bread today"
Thousands of Children at once scream "Hooray!"
Run home to tents where elders await
Messenger children with bread from the state
No bread more today! & and no place to squat
Painful baby, sick shit he has got.
Malnutrition skulls thousands for months
Dysentery drains bowels all at once
Nurse shows disease card Enterostrep
Suspension is wanting or else chlorostrep
Refugee camps in hospital shacks
Newborn lay naked on mother's thin laps
Monkeysized week old Rheumatic babe eye
Gastoenteritis Blood Poison thousands must die
September Jessore Road rickshaw
50,000 souls in one camp I saw
Rows of bamboo huts in the flood
Open drains, & wet families waiting for food
Border trucks flooded, food cant get past,
American Angel machine please come fast!
Where is Ambassador Bunker today?
Are his Helios machinegunning children at play?
Where are the helicopters of U.S. AID?
Smuggling dope in Bangkok's green shade.
Where is America's Air Force of Light?
Bombing North Laos all day and all night?
Where are the President's Armies of Gold?
Billionaire Navies merciful Bold?
Bringing us medicine food and relief?
Napalming North Viet Nam and causing more grief?
Where are our tears? Who weeps for the pain?
Where can these families go in the rain?
Jessore Road's children close their big eyes
Where will we sleep when Our Father dies?
Whom shall we pray to for rice and for care?
Who can bring bread to this shit flood foul'd lair?
Millions of children alone in the rain!
Millions of children weeping in pain!
Ring O ye tongues of the world for their woe
Ring out ye voices for Love we don't know
Ring out ye bells of electrical pain
Ring in the conscious of America brain
How many children are we who are lost
Whose are these daughters we see turn to ghost?
What are our souls that we have lost care?
Ring out ye musics and weep if you dare--
Cries in the mud by the thatch'd house sand drain
Sleeps in huge pipes in the wet shit-field rain
waits by the pump well, Woe to the world!
whose children still starve in their mother's arms curled.
Is this what I did to myself in the past?
What shall I do Sunil Poet I asked?
Move on and leave them without any coins?
What should I care for the love of my loins?
What should we care for our cities and cars?
What shall we buy with our Food Stamps on Mars?
How many millions sit down in New York
& sup this night's table on bone & roast pork?
How many millions of beer cans are tossed
in Oceans of Mother? How much does She cost?
Cigar gasolines and asphalt car dreams
Stinking the world and dimming star beams--
Finish the war in your breast with a sigh
Come tast the tears in your own Human eye
Pity us millions of phantoms you see
Starved in Samsara on planet TV
How many millions of children die more
before our Good Mothers perceive the Great Lord?
How many good fathers pay tax to rebuild
Armed forces that boast the children they've killed?
How many souls walk through Maya in pain
How many babes in illusory pain?
How many families hollow eyed lost?
How many grandmothers turning to ghost?
How many loves who never get bread?
How many Aunts with holes in their head?
How many sisters skulls on the ground?
How many grandfathers make no more sound?
How many fathers in woe
How many sons nowhere to go?
How many daughters nothing to eat?
How many uncles with swollen sick feet?
Millions of babies in pain
Millions of mothers in rain
Millions of brothers in woe
Millions of children nowhere to go
New York, November 14-16, 1971
Editor 1 Interpretation
September On Jessore Road: A Literary Criticism and Interpretation
It's hard to read September On Jessore Road by Allen Ginsberg and not feel the pain and heartbreak that he felt when he wrote it. The poem speaks of the atrocities committed during the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971, and Ginsberg's passion and empathy for the suffering of the Bangladeshi people is palpable throughout the piece.
At its core, September On Jessore Road is a poem about war and its effects on innocent civilians. Ginsberg uses vivid imagery and powerful language to convey the horrors of the conflict, from the "curled corpse" of a child to the "bloodshot eyeball" of a soldier. However, the poem is also a call to action, urging readers to pay attention to the suffering of others and to do what they can to help.
The Poem's Structure
Before we dive into the meat of the poem, it's worth taking a moment to examine its structure. September On Jessore Road is written in free verse, with no set rhyme scheme or meter. Instead, Ginsberg uses repetition and enjambment to create a sense of urgency and rhythm.
The poem is also divided into nine stanzas of varying lengths, each with its own distinct tone and purpose. Some stanzas are descriptive, painting a picture of the war-torn landscape, while others are more introspective, exploring the poet's own feelings of helplessness and despair.
The Poem's Themes
At its core, September On Jessore Road is a poem about war and its effects on innocent civilians. Ginsberg paints a vivid picture of the violence and destruction wrought by the conflict, from the "blackened hand" of a dead child to the "stench of burning flesh" in the air. The poem is a powerful indictment of war and its toll on human life.
However, the poem is also about empathy and compassion. Ginsberg's descriptions of the suffering of the Bangladeshi people are heart-wrenching, and he urges readers to open their hearts and minds to the plight of others. The poem is a call to action, a plea for readers to do what they can to help those who are suffering.
Symbolism and Imagery
One of the most striking things about September On Jessore Road is its use of vivid imagery and powerful symbolism. Ginsberg's descriptions of the war-torn landscape are haunting and visceral, and his use of metaphor and symbolism adds depth and nuance to the poem.
For example, the "curled corpse" of a child is a powerful symbol of the senseless violence and destruction of war. The "blackened hand" of the child is a reminder that war touches even the most innocent and vulnerable members of society.
Similarly, the "bloodshot eyeball" of a soldier is a powerful symbol of the dehumanizing effects of war. It's a reminder that soldiers are also victims of the conflict, and that the toll of war extends far beyond the battlefield.
Language and Tone
Throughout September On Jessore Road, Ginsberg's language is powerful and evocative. He uses vivid descriptions and striking imagery to convey the horrors of the conflict, and his tone is one of urgency and desperation.
At times, the poem is almost journalistic in its language, with Ginsberg cataloging the various atrocities committed during the war. At other times, the language is more poetic and introspective, as Ginsberg grapples with his own feelings of helplessness and despair.
Conclusion
In conclusion, September On Jessore Road is a powerful and moving poem that speaks to the horrors of war and the importance of empathy and compassion. Ginsberg's use of vivid imagery, powerful symbolism, and evocative language create a haunting portrait of the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971, and his urgent tone is a call to action for readers to pay attention to the suffering of others and to do what they can to help.
As a reader, it's impossible not to be moved by the pain and heartbreak that Ginsberg conveys in this poem. September On Jessore Road is a reminder that war touches us all, and that we all have a responsibility to do what we can to alleviate the suffering of others.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
September On Jessore Road: A Poem of Sorrow and Hope
Allen Ginsberg's September On Jessore Road is a powerful poem that captures the horrors of war and the resilience of the human spirit. Written in 1971, during the Bangladesh Liberation War, the poem is a response to the atrocities committed by the Pakistani army against the Bengali people. In this analysis, we will explore the themes, imagery, and language used in the poem to understand its significance and impact.
The poem begins with a description of the scene on Jessore Road, a highway in Bangladesh that was a site of intense fighting during the war. The speaker describes the "burning buses" and "broken bones" that litter the road, painting a vivid picture of the devastation wrought by the conflict. The use of alliteration in these lines ("burning buses," "broken bones") emphasizes the harshness and brutality of the scene.
As the poem progresses, the speaker shifts from describing the physical destruction to the emotional toll of the war. The lines "Mothers weep on flats of bamboo / Beside the chocked canals" evoke a sense of despair and helplessness. The use of the word "chocked" to describe the canals suggests a sense of suffocation and claustrophobia, as if the people are trapped in their own suffering.
Despite the overwhelming sadness of the scene, the poem also contains moments of hope and resilience. The lines "Men fight for reasons / They do not understand" suggest that the conflict is not driven by hatred or malice, but rather by a lack of understanding and communication. This idea is reinforced by the lines "I see boys with rifles, who are they protecting? / It's not me certainly." The speaker recognizes that the violence is not directed at him personally, but rather at a larger political or ideological conflict.
The poem also contains religious imagery, with references to both Hindu and Muslim traditions. The line "The air is flavored with fumes of curries / And burning flesh" suggests a blending of cultures and traditions, as well as the idea that even in the midst of war, people continue to carry out their daily rituals and practices. The line "Allah, Lord of all the worlds, / Compassionate, Merciful" invokes the Muslim tradition of prayer and emphasizes the idea of compassion and mercy in the face of violence.
One of the most striking aspects of the poem is its use of repetition. The lines "I see" and "I hear" are repeated throughout the poem, creating a sense of urgency and immediacy. The repetition also emphasizes the speaker's role as a witness to the conflict, as if he is documenting the events as they unfold.
The poem ends with a message of hope and resilience. The lines "We are alive and they are dead" suggest that even in the face of death and destruction, life continues. The use of the word "we" emphasizes the speaker's solidarity with the Bengali people, and the idea that they will continue to fight and survive despite the odds.
In conclusion, September On Jessore Road is a powerful poem that captures the horrors of war and the resilience of the human spirit. Through its vivid imagery, religious references, and use of repetition, the poem conveys a sense of both despair and hope. The poem serves as a reminder of the devastating impact of war on innocent people, and the importance of compassion and understanding in the face of violence.
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