From Assam’s National Register of Citizens offices to Lahore’s streets, trans and queer communities confront policing, displacement, and erasure while continuing to build worlds of resistance, care, and possibility. From Assam’s National Register of Citizens offices to Lahore’s streets, trans and queer communities confront policing, displacement, and erasure while continuing to build worlds of resistance, care, and possibility. "A Coat of Our Arms" (2025), digital illustration, courtesy of Priyanka Kumar. Artist Assam AUTHOR · AUTHOR · AUTHOR 24 Oct 2025 th · THE VERTICAL REPORTAGE · LOCATION Trans Counterpublics P ooja Rabha, a tribal transgender woman from the Charaideo District in Assam, trembled as she told SAAG about a haunting scene from her visit to the National Register of Citizens (NRC) office. The office was swarming with border police and old heaps of paper documents. When called to the service desk, Rabha was asked to provide all the details of her origins, including a birth certificate, land document, and bank records. She stood behind her mother, her heart racing with anxiety. “I knew they were looking at my body,” Rabha recalled. Within minutes of standing there, a border police officer approached her and mockingly asked, “Are you a boy or a girl?” She froze. The officer screamed, “Go stand in the boys’ line!” NRC inspection and verification is a lengthy process and typically incomplete without biodata, photographs, and documents proving lineage. For many transgender people in Assam, the process is especially resource-consuming due to the need for consistent documentation that reflects their current identity. Many find this difficult, particularly if estranged from their families or if their official documents still reflect their birth-assigned “dead” names. Critics also believe the NRC is effectively a xenophobic exercise to identify and deport undocumented immigrants from neighboring Bangladesh—many of whom arrived in Assam following the 1971 war of independence. In 2019, the process excluded approximately 2 million people from citizenship, creating severe consequences for Assam’s transgender population, who face disenfranchisement alongside others left off the list. In Rabha’s case, even the discrepancy between her gender presentation and the gender identity indicated on official documents is enough to arouse suspicion. Should people like Rabha fail to be verified under the NRC, they are essentially rendered stateless: at best, unable to vote in elections , and at worst, likely in danger of imprisonment at a detention center. Unfortunately, transgender marginalization for political gain is not new in modern day India and Pakistan, where many Hijra and Khwaja Sira communities —an umbrella term in Urdu for transgender, nonbinary, and gender nonconforming people—share a rich history in connection to the land. A Long-Held Colonial Legacy Pre-colonial India demonstrated openness to sexual fluidity. Themes exploring gender and sexuality can be seen in ancient texts such as the Vatsyayana Kamasutra, Jain religious writings from the 5th century, Sufi poetry from the 13th century , and erotic literature from the Mughal period in the 17th century. In fact, many researchers and historians of South Asian studies have also highlighted links between queer desire and the sacred. Shayan Rajani, for instance, delves into the documented homoerotic relationship between Madho Lal Hussain, a 16th century Sufi mystic from Lahore, and a married Brahmin man. Rajani explains that while the relationship was considered unconventional, even transgressive, it finds a home within the religious canon when seen through the lens of Sufi thinkers and practitioners. Across various written accounts, and in Persian verse, this queer relationship was understood through “Metaphorical Love”—a Sufi literary tradition in which the imagery of human love is used as a metaphor to describe love for the divine. This same elevation of queerness is seen in Vinay Lal’s explication of the ancient Indian epic the Ramayana , particularly how many hijras connect to the epic through their resistance to categorization. In the story, as Rama prepares to go into exile with Sita and Lakshmana, he instructs his subjects, “Men and women, please go back and perform your duties.” Per Lal’s interpretation, hijras, identifying as neither men nor women, would have remained at the same spot of his departure, where they would greet Rama upon his return fourteen years later. For their devotion, they would be blessed by Rama. In both Rajani and Lal’s analysis, queerness is deeply woven into the fabric of the region, through spiritual, literary and cultural traditions. Their work demonstrates the relatively expansive ideas of queerness in the erstwhile Subcontinent. However, the colonization of the Indian subcontinent by the British East India Company, brought with it a steep decline of the Khwaja Siras’ cultural significance alongside a wave of discrimination through the Criminal Tribes Act (CTC). Under the Act,. Khwaja Sira were criminalized based on a strict, orthodox understanding of gender roles. Men wearing female attire and homosexuality were deemed punishable offenses. This legislation effectively enforced gender norms, while picking away at artistic traditions that embedded queerness within them. “They [the British] criminalized our bodies back in the 18th century,” Pakistani trans activist Hina Baloch explained to SAAG. “So branding us as foreign agents or ‘others’ has a very colonial politics attached to it.” Although the CTC is no longer in effect in present-day Pakistan and India following their independence, its influence persists as a key colonial legacy, shaping societal attitudes and laws. Queer Rights Amid Religious Conservatism In Pakistan On May 19, 2023, the Federal Shariat Court of Pakistan rendered the Transgender Persons Act of 2018 incompatible with Islamic principles. This law had allowed people to choose their gender and to have that identity recognized on official documents, including national IDs, passports, and driver’s licenses. The recognition meant that transgender people could press charges for cases of discrimination and exercise their political right to vote while showing up as their authentic selves. While activists like Baloch are currently in the process of appealing the court’s decision, the reality is that the Khwaja Sira community remained the victim of violence and dehumanization even while the bill was in effect, she said. “We never had faith in our judicial system, and to a large extent, we saw this coming.” In recent years, the Pakistani government, fueled by netizens’ religious uproar, has curtailed many forms of queer and trans expression in the country, creating a firm bedrock of support for the overturning of the Transgender Persons Act. As Hussain “Jaan-e–Haseena” Zaidi, a trans-feminine artist based in Lahore, told SAAG , “By being very public about your queer identity, you’re inviting other people to criticize and try to discipline you back into their framework of being a Pakistani.” This sentiment is echoed in the backlash against the film Joyland , which depicted a love affair between a man and a transgender woman, in November 2022. Spearheaded by prominent figures from Pakistan’s religious right, including fashion designer Maria B and religious evangelist Raja Zia Ul Haq, the mudslinging evolved into what seemed to be a broader campaign about the religious and cultural identity of Pakistan as a nation. Hashtags like #JoylandvsIslam gained traction, with critics denouncing the film as part of a foreign-funded agenda to destroy Islam. The discourse included other extreme reactions as well, such as equating transgender identity with pedophilia . [Embedded] “The filthy venture named ‘Joyland’ is in fact promoting a one-way ticket to hell. The West has shortlisted this LGBTQ+ film for the Oscars as it openly mocks the teachings of Islam. We must reverse all decisions and actions based on the Transgender Act 2018.” ( Tanzeem-e-Islami ) While Joyland was ultimately allowed limited release following significant cuts of ostensibly vulgar material, it remained banned in Punjab , Pakistan’s most populous province . In a country where any violation of the harsh blasphemy law can result in punishment by death, accusations of being “un-Islamic” or “mocking the teachings of Islam” can have dire consequences. Moreover, vigilante justice is common in blasphemy cases, which are increasingly settled with violence outside the courtroom, with mob and targeted attacks against those accused. On March 17, 2024, a violent mob of over 100 men attacked and severely wounded transgender women in Gulistan-e-Johar, Karachi. According to Shahzadi Rai , a transgender woman present at the scene who is also an elected official of the Karachi Municipal Council, the incident originated at a local marketplace. A member of the Khwaja Sira community had politely requested a shopkeeper to exchange a torn banknote. However, a nearby man responded with sexually suggestive comments, implying she engaged in sex work. “Mind your own business,” the woman retorted. The situation escalated as the man proceeded to verbally abuse and physically assault her. Within moments, said Rai, the commotion attracted a mob hurling transphobic slurs, inappropriately touching the women, attempting to tear their clothes off, and threatening them with death. The mob accused them of “ruining society, “dirtying our neighborhood” and threatened to burn them all. As of 2021, at least 89 people have been extrajudicially killed due to blasphemy accusations over Pakistan’s seven-decade history, and the numbers have further risen since. At this point, policing blasphemy is woven into the social fabric of the nation. In Haseena’s words, “There’s this normalized [policing] which can range anywhere from verbal to violent harassment. And this can be from family, people you know, or random strangers.” This normalization of vigilante-style policing coupled with dehumanizing smear campaigns on social media has resulted in what Baloch calls “a very systemic and organized transphobia.” Ultimately, trans erasure and persecution is equated with strengthening the religious morals of the nation. “The Pakistani state has failed the Khwaja Sira community on violence,” Baloch added. “There is domestic violence like honor killing and homelessness [that] we face from our birth parents. Then, there’s intimate partner violence at the hands of our boyfriends and partners. And then there’s casual everyday violence.” In India, The Trans Body in Conflict With Hindutva Logic On the other side of the border, Dominic Amonge, a 34-year-old trans woman recounted an incident during her university days when, prior to her physical transition, she was raped during her stay at a men's paying guest (PG) house in Guwahati, India. Seeking justice, she approached the Station House Officer, but according to Amonge, the officer dismissively stated, "That's because it's your fault; you are queer." "I dealt with it," she said. "I lived with the abuse." Dominic Amonge is not alone. Sumitra Ghosh, a 22 year-old non-cis passing trans woman, faced similar challenges in Guwahati. Her landlord evicted her after discovering she was undergoing hormone therapy, assuming she would engage in sex work. In reality, she was on the verge of completing her BA 3rd Semester. With few housing options, as many metro states of India still demand cisgender married couples or bachelor men, Sumitra reluctantly moved into a boys’ PG in August, 2024. Within days, however, her male roommate sexually assaulted her. Aniruddha Dutta explores the construction of an “elsewhere” within Hindutva rhetoric, highlighting how marginalized communities are framed as “foreign threats” to the dominant sociopolitical order. Dutta defines “elsewhere” as any group or identity that does not conform to the rigid boundaries of Hindu nationalism—this includes Bangladeshi immigrants, Muslims, Dalits, Adivasis, and certain queer and trans people who do not fit within the upper-caste Hindu framework. Specifically, Dutta examines an incident from July 2021 where a brutal video of a trans woman named Ratna Chowdhury torturing a younger hijra circulated on WhatsApp. Without excusing the violence of the incident, Dutta traces how the event became a Hindutva talking point. As the case progressed, Dutta noticed that “Chowdhury was repeatedly singled out to direct blame towards Bangladeshis and Muslims and otherize them within hijra communities”—all while packaging it under the guise of safety concerns for trans individuals. Dutta notes that Hindutva may, at times, co-opt queer politics to project Hinduism as uniquely tolerant and inclusive. However, this assimilation can be slippery and rests on exclusionary and binary thinking—logic that would otherwise flatten Dominic Amonge and Sumitra Ghosh’s experiences into mere outliers or stereotypes. Trans women from Bengali or Muslim immigrant communities in Assam, for example, face compounded challenges under the current political climate. The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) government perpetuates ideas of a “foreigner-free” homeland for Assamese people, banking on middle-class Assamese anxiety to push the envelope for an updated NRC. While the 2019 Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act , promised legal protections such as the ability to modify names on birth certificates, bureaucratic hurdles and the preoccupation with accurate citizenship continue to block progress in Assam. Trans women must provide proof of gender affirming surgery to update their legal identity, while those identifying as "transgender" must receive approval from the District Level Screening Committee. “Government offices demand an extra level of patience to deal with,” said Sumitra Ghosh, who struggled for months to receive her TG card (identity card for trans people) in Tezpur, Assam. “These offices are overburdened with work, and the employees either work slowly or continue to postpone their tasks until they become urgent. They rejected my certificates so many times in Tezpur,” she said. Often, due to additional document requests, “pictures, biodata proofs, and affidavits.” The stories of trans women like Dominic Amonge and Sumitra Ghosh illustrate that despite legal protections and selectively inclusive talking points, these women remain vulnerable to sexual violence, eviction, and systemic neglect by government officials. Their experiences also point to how queer people can easily slip between “legitimate” and “illegitimate” depending on the interests of the state. On September 11, 2023, Assam Railway Police arrested three Muslim trans women—Kusum, Durga, and Puja—for begging for change on the Bangalore Express train. The women were subjected to degrading and illegal bodily inspections . Despite trans people’s right to self-identify per the Supreme Court of India, the police falsely declared their trans identity as “fake” due to the absence of gender-affirming surgery. The media’s portrayal of the incident exacerbated the women’s plight. They were not only deadnamed and misgendered but also labeled as “impostors,” vilifying them in the public eye. The narrative largely appealed to the importance of pure, sanitized spaces—another prominent Hindutva talking point—and framed them as deceitful individuals, who were harassing passengers and collecting money under false pretenses. “With my queerness and gender, nobody needs to worry about my body,” asserted Durga in contrast to the circulated story. “Police are always worried about what’s between my legs more than myself.” Resistance Efforts On Both Sides Of The Border Faced with national erasure, queer communities in Pakistan and Assam have created grassroots initiatives that prioritize solidarity, joy, and community-care. In Assam, prominent trans activist Rituparna Neog leads the Akam Foundation , an organization dedicated to nurturing feminist education through community-building projects. Growing up witnessing the oppression of Adivasi children in Jorhat, Neog’s activism is informed by a commitment to radical compassion. Her organization’s initiatives include establishing free libraries in remote Assamese villages to break down barriers and educate communities on gender and sexuality. The foundation’s first library project, Kitape Kotha Koi launched in August 2021 and offers a safe and accessible space for learning. The focus is on library education and ensuring reading materials are free for those who need them most. Similarly, Palash Borah, a gay activist from Assam started Snehbandhan (Bond of Love) in 2015. Originally a support-based WhatsApp group of trans and queer people in Guwahati, the group has evolved into an officially registered organization. Major initiatives include activities like meet-ups and donation drives with Kinnar Trust and Donatekart . Currently, Snehbandhan is running a project with Azim Premji Foundation called Sahas to provide necessities like hormones, laser treatments, and registration certificates to the transgender community in Assam. "At first, I was nervous about all the activist talk and labels,” shared Dominic Amonge, who works for Snehbandhan. “I'm not a so-called activist. However, how else would I learn where to get a safe doctor or a good job?" Likewise in Lahore, Haseena founded Zenaan Khana in March 2023 following a slew of anti-trans attacks and rhetoric since the heated discourse on Joyland . Drawing on the region’s deep historical ties between art and queerness, Zenaan Khana positions itself as part of a broader artistic resistance. “Art is crucial in resistance movements because art has the power of providing a visual, auditory and literary toolkit,” said Haseena. One of Zenaan Khana’s goals is to create media that depicts queer and transness specific to the context of Pakistan, exemplified in one of its first projects: a series of photoshoots highlighting trans beauty, prominently featured on the group’s Instagram page. In one striking image, a trans woman is adorned in traditional jewelry, rings and henna, paying homage to the region’s aesthetics while questioning what types of bodies get to participate in this specific visual culture. “Our idea was to get photographers, stylists, and visual artists together to showcase queerness that is specific to the Pakistani context, and even pushing back against Western notions of LGBTQ+ identity,” Haseena noted. In many ways, “Ishq,” one of Zenaan Khana’s central ethos, captures the community-care politics at the heart of queer resistance. Ishq can be translated to mean an unending love filled with infinite possibilities. By anchoring itself in Ishq , the collective not only imagines a possibility for queer liberation in the Urdu language, but also expands the definition of the word itself to encapsulate the chosen families in queer circles, community building, and love beyond the binary—an ethos applicable on either side of the border. Whether through education, art, or funding, queer activists from Karachi to Assam demonstrate a shared commitment to queer liberation in the face of state-sanctioned erasure. Haseena neatly captures this pillar of resistance: “expanding people’s imaginations of queer and trans possibilities.” ∎ SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. 1 Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Essay Assam Kashmir Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 On That Note:

The current mood on the US left is one of extreme pessimism, particularly in the wake of movement dissipation after the end of the Bernie Sanders primary campaign. Such a moment requires reckoning with movement mistakes, thinking about the necessity of leftist media, and possibly even a self-identification with our most doomer selves. INTERACTIVE FLUX · Jaya Rajamani & Bhavik Lathia on the US Left & Media Jaya Rajamani · Bhavik Lathia The current mood on the US left is one of extreme pessimism, particularly in the wake of movement dissipation after the end of the Bernie Sanders primary campaign. Such a moment requires reckoning with movement mistakes, thinking about the necessity of leftist media, and possibly even a self-identification with our most doomer selves. FLUX: An Evening in Dissent FLUX was held at a depressing moment for media workers on the left: all "doomers", as Jaya Rajamani referred to herself at the time. Despite the Democrats winning the White House, dispiriting cabinet appointments by to-be President Biden, especially in the wake of the loss of Bernie Sanders' primary campaign left a sense of a weak Left with the dissipation of progressive movement energy by the end of 2020. Non-Fiction Editor Tisya Mavuram convened with writers, activists, and organizers Bhavik Lathia and Jaya Rajamani to discuss how to rebuild power, the Left's relationship to media, how centrists managed to defeat a historic challenge in the form of Sanders' campaign, and a reckoning with mistakes made. Tarfia Faizullah: Poetry Reading Jaishri Abichandani's Art Studio Tour Natasha Noorani's Live Performance of "Choro" Nikil Saval & Kshama Sawant: On Movement Politics at the Local & Municipal Level, COVID-19 & the Two-Party Structure Rajiv Mohabir: Poetry Reading SAAG, So Far: A Panel with the Editors DJ Kiran: A Celebratory Set ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Watch the event in full on IGTV. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Event Panel Bernie Sanders Progressive Politics Democratic Socialism Democratic Socialists of America DSA Digital Advocacy Digital Space Funny Twitter Accounts Optimism on the Local Level Joe Biden Wisconsin Wisconsin Democrats Municipal Politics State Senate United States Progressivism Black Solidarities Demographics Populism Progressive Populism Inevitability Doomers Wisconsin as an Electoral Knife's Edge White Supremacy Fascism Republican Vote The History of the Right-Wing Trump's Base Errors in the Bernie Sanders Campaign Woke Politics Coalition Building Media Growth of Left Media Leftist Media Twitch Podcasts Liberals Breitbart Billionaire-Funded Media Messaging Status Quo FLUX JAYA RAJAMANI is a freelance writer and journalist who writes Time for Jaya , a newsletter about life, politics, art, love, the internet, and the terrible (and wonderful) things we do to each other when trying to improve the world. She has written for Current Affairs , and The Forward , among others. BHAVIK LATHIA is a writer and organizer, currently Senior Digital Director for the Democratic Party of Wisconisn (WI-Dems). Event Panel 5th Dec 2020 On That Note: Heading 5 23rd OCT Heading 5 23rd Oct Heading 5 23rd Oct

ARTIST Anna Rabko ANNA RABKO is a graphic designer and illustrator who uses colours and surrealism as a universal language. Her education started at the Academy of Fine Arts in Cracow, Poland, creating a bond with Polish Poster design, and continued in Kathmandu, Nepal, where she learned traditional Thangka painting. She enjoys working with theatres and NGOs, and collaborating with other artists. ARTIST WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

JOURNALIST Arshad Ahmed ARSHAD AHMED is an independent journalist and photographer based in Assam, covering human rights, politics, marginalised communities, and the environment in India's northeast. His work has been published in Article-14, Maktoob Media, TwoCirles.net, EastMojo , and others. JOURNALIST WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

COO of Fearless Collective, Tehani Ariyaratne, in conversation with Senior Editor Sabika Abbas Naqvi. COMMUNITY Public Art Projects as Feminist Reclamation COO of Fearless Collective, Tehani Ariyaratne, in conversation with Senior Editor Sabika Abbas Naqvi. VOL. 1 INTERVIEW AUTHOR AUTHOR AUTHOR Watch the interview on YouTube or IGTV. ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Watch the interview on YouTube or IGTV. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Interview Feminist Art Practice 29th Nov 2020 Interview Feminist Art Practice Feminist Organizing Mural Public Space Art Practice Public Arts Fearless Collective Fearless Arts Residency Art Activism Fundraising Future Dream Spaces Queerness Queer Spaces Trans Politics Trans Community Wheat Pasting Sri Lanka Pakistan India Internationalist Solidarity Khwaja Siras Bubbli Malik Queer Muslim Project Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. One of our murals in Rawalpindi, is an image of a [khwaja sira], Bubbli Malik, on a bicycle, and she says "I am a creation of Allah." The mural refers not to violence or trauma, but is a radical affirmation of the [khwaja sira] community. More Fiction & Poetry: Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5

Despite the marketing of her debut novel "Gold Diggers," Sanjena Sathian did not set out to interrogate the model minority myth or the dynamics of class in the Indian-American diaspora. Instead, she began with the relationship of a mother and daughter. The world of an "uncritical and unthinking ambition" gradually began to assert itself in the narrative. INTERACTIVE Chats Ep. 10 · On Ambition, Immigration, Class in “Gold Diggers” Despite the marketing of her debut novel "Gold Diggers," Sanjena Sathian did not set out to interrogate the model minority myth or the dynamics of class in the Indian-American diaspora. Instead, she began with the relationship of a mother and daughter. The world of an "uncritical and unthinking ambition" gradually began to assert itself in the narrative. VOL. 1 LIVE AUTHOR AUTHOR AUTHOR Subscribe to our newsletter for updates on SAAG Chats, an informal series of live events on Instagram. ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Subscribe to our newsletter for updates on SAAG Chats, an informal series of live events on Instagram. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Live Georgia 21st Jun 2021 Live Georgia Ambition Class Class Struggle World-building Fiction Debut Authors Debut Novel Upper-caste Rules Rule-breaking Immigration Cultural Narratives of Immigration Indian-American Exceptionalism Indian-American Diaspora Good Immigrant Novels BIPOC Audiences Explanation Immigrant Pressure Unconscious Identity Miranda July Vanity Gold Diggers Ruth Ozeki Latin American Literature Magical Realism Japanese Literature Alchemy Satire Fantasy Science Fiction Genre Genre Tropes Genre Fluidity Jhumpa Lahiri Zadie Smith Philip Roth Irreverence Diaspora Big History Revisionism Myth of the Model Minority Mythology Private Schools Gold Rush Eternalism Temporality SAAG Chats Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Writer and journalist Sanjena Sathian in conversation with Vishakha Darbha about rule-breaking, questions from her publishing team, whether explaining world-building came easily to the writing of her debut novel, Gold Diggers (Random House, 2021), what makes a "good" immigrant novel, and writing about the Indian-American diaspora in its own mythologies, complications, and exceptionalism. More Fiction & Poetry: Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5

BAND Little Faratas N' Monkey LITTLE FARATAS N' MONKEY is an anonymous band from Maldives. Different artists collaborate on different projects. The core of the band is the sound room of a video production house. BAND WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

DJ-ACTIVIST Darakshan Raja DARAKSHAN RAJA A.K.A. DJ KIRAN is an abolitionist activist, musician, and DJ who works to cultivate joy and community in movement work with Bhangra and Urban Desi Music. DJ Kiran was part of The Empowerment Album , a collaboration between desi women DJs from the US, UK, and Canada. Darakshan is the co-founder and co-director of Muslims for Just Futures , a grassroots organization that focuses on working-class communities, women, and communities nationally through the Muslim Abolitionist Futures (MAF) National Network. DJ-ACTIVIST WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

In the wake of the devastating effects of the monsoon season in 2022, villagers in Sindh contend with the loss of their livelihoods and the ecological disaster that’s become increasingly familiar. Sabu Khan Buriro was initially submerged, but the nearby Hamal Lake continued to overflow. Villagers, distrustful of the indifferent and lethargic Pakistani state, took it upon themselves to maintain and strengthen flood protection bunds. THE VERTICAL Dispatch from a Village Near Hamal Lake, Sindh, in August In the wake of the devastating effects of the monsoon season in 2022, villagers in Sindh contend with the loss of their livelihoods and the ecological disaster that’s become increasingly familiar. Sabu Khan Buriro was initially submerged, but the nearby Hamal Lake continued to overflow. Villagers, distrustful of the indifferent and lethargic Pakistani state, took it upon themselves to maintain and strengthen flood protection bunds. Ibrahim Buriro The weather in northwest Sindh remained hot and humid a month after the torrential monsoon spell that wreaked havoc in the region. Among the ceaseless deluge, the struggle to save major cities in northwest Sindh, such as Dadu, Sehwan, Johi, Mehar, and Warah, continued. In the aftermath, people themselves have taken charge of strengthening and monitoring flood protection bunds, reflecting mistrust of the state and its elected officials. As per the official statistics, which are still believed to be under-reported, rainwater and floods have impacted 33 million people, displaced nearly 10 million, and killed more than 1500. 1.5 million houses and a million livestock have also been lost, and hundreds of thousands of acres of crop fields—15% of the country’s rice crop and 40% of its cotton—have been ruined. The full picture of the destruction will only emerge once the water level recedes and surveying becomes possible. On the morning of 24th August, our village, Sabu Khan Buriro, was flooded due to intense water pressure from the overflowing Hamal Lake. The rising water soon breached the flood protection bund, and as water gushed into our village, our priority was to bring our valuables and belongings to dry patches of land. Wading through waist-deep water and in some areas chest deep water, people couldn’t take anything other than bed sheets, charpoys and some rice and wheat grains. They were forced to retreat to elevated surfaces like the flood protection bunds, which were soon packed with people and their belongings. Official rescue efforts are rare in these areas, but surprisingly, the district administration sent 5 mini trucks to evacuate the village. In a state of panic and shock as the water submerged the village, the people were evacuated and most of us ended up on the road. But this is not a story about my village alone. It’s the story of an entire region dispossessed by the floods and unprecedented rains, and the specter of poor governance, unchecked capitalism, and climate disregard that has enabled ecological collapse. Mass migration has begun. Families on the roads are forced to stay on charpoys without shelter, food is scarce, and people are struggling with basic necessities. Many people left for cities unwillingly to save their lives, but still there are hundreds who stayed back in dry areas near villages to look after their livestock or moved to safer places with the help of local boats as flood water levels increased. Thanks to the timely help of comrades from the Women Democratic Front, a Pakistan-based socialist-feminist organization, in our village, my family and I succeeded in rescuing essential goods before the village was delinked from mainland Sindh. This is the story of an entire region dispossessed by the floods and unprecedented rains, and the specter of poor governance, unchecked capitalism, and climate disregard that has enabled ecological collapse. One of the biggest challenges we are facing after rescuing our families is making contact with people who decided to stay behind. When the flooding began, the elected MPA’s family, a major feudal family in the area, instructed people to leave, but many refused in order to look after their livestock and save what little grain they could. It's impossible for 'elected' MPAs and feudal families to understand the logic of village residents. Our livestock and the rice and wheat saved from last year’s harvest are all we own. It is difficult for villagers to leave the only assets they rely upon at the mercy of the government, because we’ve learned over our lifetimes that the government isn't serious about helping people in the long term, indulging instead in corruption around flood relief goods without any long-term planning. Many of the villagers migrating have brought cattle and other livestock with them, fearing the animals would suffer from deadly ailments. Caring for the livestock and arranging for their fodder has become an additional responsibility on top of people’s own survival, but to neglect them would further threaten people’s livelihoods. The livestock and the products they offer—wool, eggs, milk, and more—are not only a source of essential nutrients, but social wealth as well. With their crops destroyed and livestock impacted, people are left with no source of earning or income for the year ahead. As villages and crop fields have turned into lakes and wetlands, cities, water sieged from all sides and acting as makeshift refugee shelters for flood-impacted people, have become a breeding ground for different diseases. Diarrhea, malaria, fever, skin diseases, and respiratory illnesses are spreading, and one of the major priorities for flood-displaced people has been the provision of medical care along with food. But in addition to physical ailments, for displaced persons, the traumatic experience of losing their homes and becoming refugees has led to psychological issues that largely go untreated and ignored. In the medical camp that we organized through the Awami Workers Party and Women Democratic Front's help, many patients, unable to sleep at night or during the day, asked about sleeping pills. This trauma has been repeating, and worsening, for those living in the floodplains of the Indus. My grandfather's brother, Hakim Ali, who is visually impaired, has spent 60 years in the fields and villages of our region. He learned to herd with his brothers in childhood and then passed that knowledge onto his sons, and now grandsons and granddaughters. He has brilliantly memorized how to navigate around the village and the grasslands around Hamal Lake, and in the mountains and fields of Kachu. He says he has never before witnessed such a long monsoon. This is the first time in his life that he has had to take refuge in a city. Signs of despair and restlessness are visible in his body language, as limited space in the city has snatched his freedom to move about in familiar open spaces. The unique experiences of each impacted person tell a tale about people's relationships with their surroundings, land, and ecology. In addition to physical ailments, for displaced persons, the traumatic experience of losing their homes and becoming refugees has led to psychological issues that largely go untreated and ignored. I first experienced displacement when I was in the 8th grade due to the floods in 2007. We lost our wooden and mud huts and were forced to take refuge in Kamber city, 30 kilometers to the east towards the Indus River. Again in 2010 floods destroyed our houses, crops, livestock, and everything on which we had established our livelihoods. My parents spent the next couple of years selling assets like crops and livestock, saving up bit by bit to slowly build a solid house for us. One summer it was a mud-made room, the next, it would be a wooden part of the house. Enduring in this way, our parents made a house out of their labor, patience, care, and most of all, love. Now, a decade later, we’ve once again lost our homes and entire livelihoods. Located along the edge of Hamal Lake in Kamber Shahdadkot District, Sindh, we and hundreds of our fellow villagers have been facing an ongoing water crisis for several years now. Due to water scarcity in the Indus River and little rainfall, Hamal Lake has been completely parched for the past couple of years. Last summer many pastoral families from our village and nearby villages who completely rely on the lake migrated nearer to the Indus for grasslands and herding. When this monsoon started, the long awaited rainfall bore happiness and hope—the hope of rebuilding the lake, of rebuilding the livelihoods entirely dependent on wetlands, of food for our livestock in the arid zones of Kachu where rain creates the possibility for grasslands to emerge. In the last couple of decades, however, rain has either become scarce or bursts forth and the dry soil is unable to soak it in, leading to floods and bringing misery and destruction in another form. The rain continued for a month. At one point it rained for 72 hours without a break. As monsoon spells came to an end in the second half of August, my family, village, and nearby villagers lost everything they had invested in the land: rice crop seeds, rice paddies, fertilizers, and their labor. People here depend on crops, livestock, and Hamal Lake’s wood and fish. In these desperate times, it’s a harsh reminder of how working people and farmers suffer doubly in an extremely unequal and unjust state and society. The government has not learned anything from the floods that have marked the second half of the twentieth century. During the floods of the 1990s, 2007, and 2010, cities had remained safe, but this time, what many are comparing to a doomsday, continuous rain has hardly left any home undamaged. Other than its capital city Karachi, every sphere of public life in Sindh has been disrupted. As village life is uprooted and completely devastated, semi-urban or urban areas aren't safe as well. Food crises have worsened, and inflation is skyrocketing as wheat flour mill owners and small shopkeepers to big dealers hike up prices to cash in on the miseries of the flood-displaced population. The rain continued for a month. At one point it rained for 72 hours without a break. As monsoon spells came to an end in the second half of August, my family, village, and nearby villagers lost everything they had invested in the land: rice crop seeds, rice paddies, fertilizers, and their labor. Climate change is intensifying the monsoon spells. When Hamal Lake dried up last year, it destroyed livestock and wildlife, the livelihoods of millions of people who depend entirely on the lake to make their ends meet. The story of Pakistan's largest lake, Lake Manchar, is no different. In recent years, it has been either completely parched or filled with contaminated water. When rain is scarce, the Indus River water is diverted to upper stream areas or dammed. But this year it’s threatening to inundate two districts in Sindh. These dual problems of drying and overfilling are directly connected to monsoon cycles becoming increasingly unpredictable in nature. According to environmental scientists, Pakistan is the sixth most vulnerable country to climate-related changes. From dried lakes to heavy monsoons, scorching heat waves and extreme winters, this is already our reality. Local, provincial, and federal governments lack preparation for climate emergencies, and their inefficiency in addressing these crises has furthered people's suffering. We can't let governments hide behind words like ‘unprecedented,’ 'natural disaster,’ or ‘punishment due to our sins.’ These are man-made disasters and a crisis of governance at the regional and international level. Economic priorities of profiteering at the cost of ecological disruption have resulted in mass miseries for the working classes. In the epoch of the Anthropocene, worsening air quality, water scarcity, extreme heatwaves and unprecedented rains are becoming a regular feature, not just devastating entire livelihoods but disrupting entire populations. Rain and floods in Sindh are not natural disasters but manifestations of inadequate infrastructure planning as well as consequences of inappropriate efforts to mold and control nature. Rivers, lakes, and natural water streams pave their own ways through the land, and disturbing their natural routes is only causing disasters. If we are to save ourselves from these devastating monster monsoons—as they are being called this year—or deadly heat waves, we need to radically rethink our relationship with nature. We collectively need to reassess our misplaced and delusional drive to alter nature according to our unbridled desires. We need to call out the elephant in the room: Capitalism. And we need to put reins on the unprecedented commodification of everything. If we do not do this and organize against this life-threatening crisis, we will be left with nothing to take protection or refuge in. Each season of the year in South Asia will bring with it a hitherto unknown face of devastation. ∎ The weather in northwest Sindh remained hot and humid a month after the torrential monsoon spell that wreaked havoc in the region. Among the ceaseless deluge, the struggle to save major cities in northwest Sindh, such as Dadu, Sehwan, Johi, Mehar, and Warah, continued. In the aftermath, people themselves have taken charge of strengthening and monitoring flood protection bunds, reflecting mistrust of the state and its elected officials. As per the official statistics, which are still believed to be under-reported, rainwater and floods have impacted 33 million people, displaced nearly 10 million, and killed more than 1500. 1.5 million houses and a million livestock have also been lost, and hundreds of thousands of acres of crop fields—15% of the country’s rice crop and 40% of its cotton—have been ruined. The full picture of the destruction will only emerge once the water level recedes and surveying becomes possible. On the morning of 24th August, our village, Sabu Khan Buriro, was flooded due to intense water pressure from the overflowing Hamal Lake. The rising water soon breached the flood protection bund, and as water gushed into our village, our priority was to bring our valuables and belongings to dry patches of land. Wading through waist-deep water and in some areas chest deep water, people couldn’t take anything other than bed sheets, charpoys and some rice and wheat grains. They were forced to retreat to elevated surfaces like the flood protection bunds, which were soon packed with people and their belongings. Official rescue efforts are rare in these areas, but surprisingly, the district administration sent 5 mini trucks to evacuate the village. In a state of panic and shock as the water submerged the village, the people were evacuated and most of us ended up on the road. But this is not a story about my village alone. It’s the story of an entire region dispossessed by the floods and unprecedented rains, and the specter of poor governance, unchecked capitalism, and climate disregard that has enabled ecological collapse. Mass migration has begun. Families on the roads are forced to stay on charpoys without shelter, food is scarce, and people are struggling with basic necessities. Many people left for cities unwillingly to save their lives, but still there are hundreds who stayed back in dry areas near villages to look after their livestock or moved to safer places with the help of local boats as flood water levels increased. Thanks to the timely help of comrades from the Women Democratic Front, a Pakistan-based socialist-feminist organization, in our village, my family and I succeeded in rescuing essential goods before the village was delinked from mainland Sindh. This is the story of an entire region dispossessed by the floods and unprecedented rains, and the specter of poor governance, unchecked capitalism, and climate disregard that has enabled ecological collapse. One of the biggest challenges we are facing after rescuing our families is making contact with people who decided to stay behind. When the flooding began, the elected MPA’s family, a major feudal family in the area, instructed people to leave, but many refused in order to look after their livestock and save what little grain they could. It's impossible for 'elected' MPAs and feudal families to understand the logic of village residents. Our livestock and the rice and wheat saved from last year’s harvest are all we own. It is difficult for villagers to leave the only assets they rely upon at the mercy of the government, because we’ve learned over our lifetimes that the government isn't serious about helping people in the long term, indulging instead in corruption around flood relief goods without any long-term planning. Many of the villagers migrating have brought cattle and other livestock with them, fearing the animals would suffer from deadly ailments. Caring for the livestock and arranging for their fodder has become an additional responsibility on top of people’s own survival, but to neglect them would further threaten people’s livelihoods. The livestock and the products they offer—wool, eggs, milk, and more—are not only a source of essential nutrients, but social wealth as well. With their crops destroyed and livestock impacted, people are left with no source of earning or income for the year ahead. As villages and crop fields have turned into lakes and wetlands, cities, water sieged from all sides and acting as makeshift refugee shelters for flood-impacted people, have become a breeding ground for different diseases. Diarrhea, malaria, fever, skin diseases, and respiratory illnesses are spreading, and one of the major priorities for flood-displaced people has been the provision of medical care along with food. But in addition to physical ailments, for displaced persons, the traumatic experience of losing their homes and becoming refugees has led to psychological issues that largely go untreated and ignored. In the medical camp that we organized through the Awami Workers Party and Women Democratic Front's help, many patients, unable to sleep at night or during the day, asked about sleeping pills. This trauma has been repeating, and worsening, for those living in the floodplains of the Indus. My grandfather's brother, Hakim Ali, who is visually impaired, has spent 60 years in the fields and villages of our region. He learned to herd with his brothers in childhood and then passed that knowledge onto his sons, and now grandsons and granddaughters. He has brilliantly memorized how to navigate around the village and the grasslands around Hamal Lake, and in the mountains and fields of Kachu. He says he has never before witnessed such a long monsoon. This is the first time in his life that he has had to take refuge in a city. Signs of despair and restlessness are visible in his body language, as limited space in the city has snatched his freedom to move about in familiar open spaces. The unique experiences of each impacted person tell a tale about people's relationships with their surroundings, land, and ecology. In addition to physical ailments, for displaced persons, the traumatic experience of losing their homes and becoming refugees has led to psychological issues that largely go untreated and ignored. I first experienced displacement when I was in the 8th grade due to the floods in 2007. We lost our wooden and mud huts and were forced to take refuge in Kamber city, 30 kilometers to the east towards the Indus River. Again in 2010 floods destroyed our houses, crops, livestock, and everything on which we had established our livelihoods. My parents spent the next couple of years selling assets like crops and livestock, saving up bit by bit to slowly build a solid house for us. One summer it was a mud-made room, the next, it would be a wooden part of the house. Enduring in this way, our parents made a house out of their labor, patience, care, and most of all, love. Now, a decade later, we’ve once again lost our homes and entire livelihoods. Located along the edge of Hamal Lake in Kamber Shahdadkot District, Sindh, we and hundreds of our fellow villagers have been facing an ongoing water crisis for several years now. Due to water scarcity in the Indus River and little rainfall, Hamal Lake has been completely parched for the past couple of years. Last summer many pastoral families from our village and nearby villages who completely rely on the lake migrated nearer to the Indus for grasslands and herding. When this monsoon started, the long awaited rainfall bore happiness and hope—the hope of rebuilding the lake, of rebuilding the livelihoods entirely dependent on wetlands, of food for our livestock in the arid zones of Kachu where rain creates the possibility for grasslands to emerge. In the last couple of decades, however, rain has either become scarce or bursts forth and the dry soil is unable to soak it in, leading to floods and bringing misery and destruction in another form. The rain continued for a month. At one point it rained for 72 hours without a break. As monsoon spells came to an end in the second half of August, my family, village, and nearby villagers lost everything they had invested in the land: rice crop seeds, rice paddies, fertilizers, and their labor. People here depend on crops, livestock, and Hamal Lake’s wood and fish. In these desperate times, it’s a harsh reminder of how working people and farmers suffer doubly in an extremely unequal and unjust state and society. The government has not learned anything from the floods that have marked the second half of the twentieth century. During the floods of the 1990s, 2007, and 2010, cities had remained safe, but this time, what many are comparing to a doomsday, continuous rain has hardly left any home undamaged. Other than its capital city Karachi, every sphere of public life in Sindh has been disrupted. As village life is uprooted and completely devastated, semi-urban or urban areas aren't safe as well. Food crises have worsened, and inflation is skyrocketing as wheat flour mill owners and small shopkeepers to big dealers hike up prices to cash in on the miseries of the flood-displaced population. The rain continued for a month. At one point it rained for 72 hours without a break. As monsoon spells came to an end in the second half of August, my family, village, and nearby villagers lost everything they had invested in the land: rice crop seeds, rice paddies, fertilizers, and their labor. Climate change is intensifying the monsoon spells. When Hamal Lake dried up last year, it destroyed livestock and wildlife, the livelihoods of millions of people who depend entirely on the lake to make their ends meet. The story of Pakistan's largest lake, Lake Manchar, is no different. In recent years, it has been either completely parched or filled with contaminated water. When rain is scarce, the Indus River water is diverted to upper stream areas or dammed. But this year it’s threatening to inundate two districts in Sindh. These dual problems of drying and overfilling are directly connected to monsoon cycles becoming increasingly unpredictable in nature. According to environmental scientists, Pakistan is the sixth most vulnerable country to climate-related changes. From dried lakes to heavy monsoons, scorching heat waves and extreme winters, this is already our reality. Local, provincial, and federal governments lack preparation for climate emergencies, and their inefficiency in addressing these crises has furthered people's suffering. We can't let governments hide behind words like ‘unprecedented,’ 'natural disaster,’ or ‘punishment due to our sins.’ These are man-made disasters and a crisis of governance at the regional and international level. Economic priorities of profiteering at the cost of ecological disruption have resulted in mass miseries for the working classes. In the epoch of the Anthropocene, worsening air quality, water scarcity, extreme heatwaves and unprecedented rains are becoming a regular feature, not just devastating entire livelihoods but disrupting entire populations. Rain and floods in Sindh are not natural disasters but manifestations of inadequate infrastructure planning as well as consequences of inappropriate efforts to mold and control nature. Rivers, lakes, and natural water streams pave their own ways through the land, and disturbing their natural routes is only causing disasters. If we are to save ourselves from these devastating monster monsoons—as they are being called this year—or deadly heat waves, we need to radically rethink our relationship with nature. We collectively need to reassess our misplaced and delusional drive to alter nature according to our unbridled desires. We need to call out the elephant in the room: Capitalism. And we need to put reins on the unprecedented commodification of everything. If we do not do this and organize against this life-threatening crisis, we will be left with nothing to take protection or refuge in. Each season of the year in South Asia will bring with it a hitherto unknown face of devastation. ∎ SUB-HEAD ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: Clare Patrick (Our) Worlds and (Plant) Wisdoms Kareen Adam · Nazish Chunara A Dhivehi Artists Showcase Photograph courtesy of Rahmat Tunio (2022). SHARE Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Dispatch Sindh Climate Change Floods in Pakistan Capitalism Women Democratic Front Awami Workers Party Sabu Khan Buriro Hamal Lake Livestock Crops Trauma Displacement Anthropocene Environment Sehwan Warah Dadu Environmental Disaster Disaster Capitalism Flood Protection Corruption Pakistan IBRAHIM BURIRO is pursuing a Masters degree in Development Studies at the Institute of Business Administration, Karachi. He organizes around issues of ecology, particularly on the subject of the free-flowing Indus River, and has been active in the students' rights movement. Buriro belongs to a remote village in Sindh impacted by flooding. He writes in Sindhi and English. 12 Mar 2023 Dispatch Sindh 12th Mar 2023 Save Karoonjhar Zuhaib Ahmed Pirzada 19th Jul The Lakshadweep Gambit Rejimon Kuttapan 29th Mar It's Only Human Furqan Jawed 26th Apr Pakistan's Feminist Wave: A Panel Zoya Rehman · Amna Chaudhry · Tooba Syed 27th Sep On the Ethics of Climate Journalism Aruna Chandrasekhar 22nd Aug On That Note:

WRITER Mai Ishizawa MAI ISHIZAWA a was born in 1980 in Sendai City, Japan, and currently lives in Germany. Her debut novel, The Place of Shells , won the Akutagawa Prize. WRITER WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

COMIC ARTIST Shebani Rao SHEBANI RAO is a comic artist, illustrator, and activist who creates work about race, mental health, feminism, pop culture, incarceration, and more. COMIC ARTIST WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

JOURNALIST Danish Pandit DANISH PANDIT is a multimedia journalist based in New Delhi. He covers politics, human rights and environment. JOURNALIST WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE