Come and See

These aching stories of this valley
Has created holes in my soul
Come and see! What it is like to be
When autumn has covered the graves
For those who could not even see the last glimpses
Because they were unknown of the deaths


Come and see! The deep affliction
The pain and the suffocation
The pain in the heart of a mother
The agony in the bodies of living


Come and see! The marks on skin
The torn eyes and loud cries
The unmarked graves
The waiting mothers and half widows


Come and see! Kashmir
The valley of sorrow

In Pursuit

I was in pursuit of one night
to sleep in the fathomless silence
in me and around me
Absorbing all the pain and agony
of every living person in my Valley
and taking all their despair with me in my dreams
where I could bury it for a moment

I wondered how that would feel like
to bury the pain of a mother
living in the memories of his lost son
to bury the pain of a father
living in a hope that justice will be served
to bury the pain of a friend
whose friend fell to bullets just next to him
to bury the pain of millions of hearts
who lost their loved ones
I wondered how much I had to dig deep
to bury the infinite stories of despair

I fell down to my knees out of my helplessness
and became uncouncious and when I woke up
I saw a crystal clear river
where I saw beautiful young man in the boats
I asked them who they were why this river was glittering like gold?
they greeted me with a beautiful voice
and told me

“We are the sons of that Valley
and these are the tears of our mothers
we are guarding them till the day of judgement
when each drop of tear would stand witness against those tyrants
who martyred us because we stood before their injustice
we know why are you here?
in pursuit to bury the despair
give that to us
we will keep it as we have nothing of your world
Atleast in this, we could see the reflection of our loved ones
God will keep multiplying it till the day of resurrection
and will replace with blessings and mercy to them
when you will go back
Give our message to the ones struggling

“Never loose hope and faith
as God has sowed us in your soil
for the glory to come”

just walk some distance as you still have to meet some other persons”

I walked where they told me to go
I saw persons with the most beautiful eyes
they were like the lightening in the sky
and the world in front of them was as beautiful as those eyes
I stood lost in them
I inquired them about this beauty
they told me

“These are the eyes of the ones
who have lost their sight due to pellets showered on them
We are preserving them till the day of judgement
and we have been kept blind to see anything from them
for their seeing will be unfolded only to those blinds living in that valley
Give a message to them from us

“soon the gloom will end and for them the beautiful worlds are waiting”

Suddenly I opened my eyes
and my beard was drenched in tears
I opened the window of my room
and saw a beautiful sunlight waiting to depart
the night I was in pursuit had just begun
but the weight of despair in me had already been lightened

In Hope to Reach…

They are walking miles from those mammoth cities to their scattered small places. Who are they? They are the same ones who built those cities. They are the same ones who built those same roads on which they are walking step by step, starving and dying. Some say they are violating the laws. What are those laws? Only mere words which tongues utter and hands write. True, no one is above the law. But every empty stomach is above the law. Every human life is above the law. When humiliation exists, honour becomes the law. When human rights are violated, the revolution becomes the law. In these times, millions are walking just because they have to reach their home. They have to see their families. When the rulers forget them, soon they will be forgotten by those same people. They are being judged and opinions are being drafted behind their backs. But they are walking, because the truth is that they don’t care about the judgements and the opinions thrown at them them. When they will reach, and I pray for them to reach safely their homes. They will look back at their journey, their helplessness, their pain and humiliation that they suffered. They will weep but no one will show their tears. There will be millions of stories, but only few will be written. This happens when rulers seek power over the welfare of the state.

When humiliation exists, honour becomes the law. When human rights are violated, the revolution becomes the law.

We know the pain and the humiliation, because the people of our land have suffered from the same hands. When we Kashmiris were held hostages in our own homes and millions of painful stories remained veiled in millions of aching hearts. When our existence was put at stake and our voices were silenced. We too screamed, but the world stood deaf and dump in defining the laws of the land. No law is above the people, no law is above their lives. But, still we never let ourselves down by learning to hate others. We learned to pray for other’s well being. Our struggle has taught us to respect human emotions. Our struggle has taught us to sympathise with those walking on the roads to reach their dwelling. Our struggle has taught us to pray for all who are affected by this pandemic of Corona virus. Our emotions stand in empathy with the countries which are suffering at this moment. Only those learn to hate who spread the hate. But those who struggle for love and peace, rise above the hate. I along with all my Kashmiri people pray to God, for ourselves and the rest of the world to save us from the pandemic of Corona Virus

Poem without A Poet

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O poet!
You are known to play with the words
But, I am not the one
I write them as they are
I write tears as tears
I write pain as pain
I write them as they are

O poet!
Could you play with my words
And change their meaning
So that,
What I always saw in my Valley
Would remain hidden in my lines
Make my words also a poem
But not written by a poet

Morning Mirror

It could have been me, who could have died that day
But by the grace of Allah, I am alive

When I see the morning mirror
I see myself among the graves
I see people lost of their senses
I see women screaming while looking at the coffin
I see as if I am in Kashmir
When I blink
I see myself standing in front of me
The words buzz in my mind
It could have been me, who could have died that day
But by the grace of Allah, I am alive

The pine trees adorned with snow
The peaceful rivers coming from glaciers
The lakes with the houseboats
The dazzling mountains in the sunsets
The tea in the samavaar
They all remain
But they have no place in my stories
You could ask me, why?
Because I saw blood and pain
I saw young sons wrapped in shrouds
I saw waiting mothers and half widows
I saw tears and fear in eyes
I saw funerals and graves
I saw bullets and pellets
I saw eyes being torn
I saw red, only red
And that’s what I see while I wake up
When I see the mirror
I see myself among them
And I say,
It could have been me, who could have died that day
But by the grace of Allah, I am alive

A Smile

My smile is just an unspoken words of pain
I touched the soil and felt no love of rain
I wanted to cry out my tears to feel that touch
But what could you expect from this harsh desert?

Yes! My smile is just an unspoken words of pain
My laugh is squalling of my heart
I succeed by remaining unrecognisable
What have I became inside

A story of millions of tears
Keeps flowing like a Brooke of my scenery
I blur the pain but lost I stand
In search of peace and happiness

My unspoken words of pain have become a smile
But deep I cry
I have become a tale of my valley
Not heard anywhere in the cities

Let me live with these Sighs

Land of the faces devoid of emotions
A common pain, a common grief
Where is the freedom? Where is the justice?
There is tyranny, there are graves

I want to run away far in the mountains
Where snow never vanish, where there is cold
I want to freeze my feelings, freeze my emotions
Freeze my tears, to let them live for ages

O Kashmir! O beautiful!
Your rivers are like hair lock on a beautiful face
Poets wrote you for ages like a dream
But today you scream and the cities are silent

Let me live far away on these mountain
You look beautiful to my eyes
Let me live with these sighs!
Let me live with these sighs!

Grave of Graves

A valley, holocaust of souls
Inferno of sore stories
Grave of graves! Grave of graves
With some inscribed, and other lay unidentified

Landlocked and barricaded ways
Where to go? No one knows
Now, It is just a Valley
Losing the unsung words in this deadly silence

Love wants to escape through the crevices in mountains
How those hearts could hold?
When the smoke in the streets burned the tissues
Our faces are now just characters victimized by pretension

I am a Kashmiri, I am Kashmir
Never ask me anything of my well-being
I don’t want my existence to be humiliated, because
When we suffered and you stood silent