Posted in Poetry

Not in Kashmir

The flames in me will never die
They will keep growing with every cry
Our lives a collection of anguished tales
How we keep walking over the nails
Every season has its own colour
But here, we only have red
Our doors doesn’t change the walls
Either sides of it has a prison
In our own land we are hunted down for treason
That too by those who are foreigners
Every day tyrants wash their hands with our blood
Even apples are now shy to manifest their redness
How many graves will cover the land?
How many names will be remembered with the tears?
The world has made us like a unaddressed entity
Whose worth seen not equivalent even to some pennies
The nozzles of the weapon hurt our ego every single moment
As if we are not humans living here
O, the free ones out there
Be grateful to God
That you are not the ones like in my valley
Where the eyes die everday
Be grateful, you are not in Kashmir

Posted in Poetry

Justice has Died… #Kashmir

Paroxymal are the moments I live
Since my homeland is gruesomely caged
I weep alone in this foreign land
With no one around to hold my hand

I see people spurning the humanity
Walls of captilism has blinded their councious
They do know and they do ignore
They just want to fill their bellies with more
What goes around comes around
The world is a boomerang, don’t forget
The fire in our land will soon chase you
Today it is my home, tomorrow it may be yours
Our houses were meant for us to live
But never thought we will be caged in them
As the picture has become blur with the pain
I still wonder, does our blood have something for them to gain
The world lives and the siege continues
The world lives and the humanity dies
Before their eyes and they keep living with the lies
All I see and all I can say is that
Justice has died

Give my voice a chance by sharing it

Posted in Poetry

A Kashmiri; What life is like…

The world stands like a stage
And our valley a cage
I will not be tired to write on a page
The story of my rage

I heard
silence has a deep voice
And humans in this life have a choice
but I feel the growing helplessness
gripping my soul in a harsh sadness

someone in my dream told me
there are now flowers on that grave
their colour is different from the colours of this world
the bees visiting them vanish in the heaven
All this gave me a reason to smile
and whispered my ears that hope is still alive

But the image of the cage
where my home is a prison and family members as prisoners
has crushed me from inside
I do now walk with a face in the land of strangers
like a emotionless cold blooded man
who has forgotten to feel
what life is like

Posted in Poetry

We will Remember

we will remember

We will remember

the dead silence of our streets

the blood on our hands

the tears of a mother

And the forgetful world around us

 

We will remember

our sleepless nights

the pain and trauma

our caged homes

And the forgetful world around us

 

We will remember

the historical betrayal

the lies they tell

the insult they add

And the forgetful world around us

 

We will remember

the eyes they blinded

the lives they took

the fire they set

And the forgetful world around us

 

We will remember

till we are alive

How could we forget?

when every gravestone reads the same

“we will remember”

 

 

 

 

Posted in Poetry

FLOWER OF THE CAGED VALLEY #KASHMIR

O flower! in my valley

You may have grown to your absolute beauty

But the tragedy of this season is that

Eyes are caged behinds the walls

You may be safe from the hands of children

but those tyrants are roaming around

you could also get crushed under their feet

You should have grown in another land

why you chose to sprout your petals here

They have set this valley on fire

The hearts are burning like never before

They are chaffering our lands in their markets

The blood has become cheap for them to shed

O you flower!

be a witness to our struggle

be a witness to our blood

Tell those bees, the story of every martyr

to spread the message in the winds

swirling around and touching the feathers of falcons

to tell them the time has come

to rise and end the reign of tyranny

Posted in Poetry

Story to God #Kashmir

I am on a walk till the sun sets

I see the oceans crying

with the tides of tears

to meet a soul that left

for the last journey

from earth to the heavens

for never to return

but he told me that

I will tell the God

the story of my valley

where I as a son

was separated from my mother

where my own father

shattered before my coffin

I will tell the God

the story of my valley

where the buds are shot

for the fear of growing up in flowers

and the winds keep weeping

out of the smoke of their weapons

I will tell the God

the story of my valley

where bodies are dragged

peeling their honour

before the blind eyes of the law

law of injustice and tyranny

I will tell the God

the story of my valley

of the raid of nights

of the bullets in days

of the blood on the road

of the terror in the hearts

I will tell the God

the story of my valley

of the torture of the bodies

of the screams out of pain

of the brutalities in the jails

of the reign of oppression

I will tell the God

the story of my valley

of the eyes torn by pellets

of the darkness in their eyes

of the end of their dreams

of the tears which are hopeless

I will tell the God

the story of my valley

of the unmarked graves

of the disappeared beings

of the orphans living

of the half widows waiting

I will tell the God

the story of my valley

of the hideous massacres

of the pool of blood

of the denial of justice

of the suppression of the voice

I will tell the God

the story of my valley

the story of Kashmir

bleeding everywhere

waiting for the next martyr

to rest under the soil

Posted in Poetry

ATTRACTIVE BUT UGLY

I waited
for some time
scambling the words in the brain
but always came short
a fort built around the heart
was not letting me go
to travel beyond the walls of the world
felt only what I saw in the cage
writing their lines on the page
freedom was a lie
mouths were speaking big and hands were folded
lies were creatively molded
fixing into ongoing series of brands
ones who withstood got canned
the majority were living in the dreamland
crunched and limited
becoming the new lifestyle
they wore gorgeously but remained faceless
lips were buzzing like the mosquitoes
what else could have happened
when hearts were stranded
face never depicted the person he was
glowing outside but tanned inside

so were my words
reading beautiful but felt little
like the world around
attractive but ugly