Posted in Uncategorized

Help A Mother who Lost Her Son With Your Donations

Mrs. Atiqa is a widowed mother of late Azam Malik. Atiqa Ji had taken a loan and had lent money from the people for the treatment of his son AZAM. But unfortunately he succumbed shortly after the bone marrow transplant! Atiqa Ji has a daughter and no one left. We would like you give a new momentum to this fundraiser and ask your help in donating the money to this fundraiser, which would go directly to Mrs. ATIQA.

That money would help her, in paying the loans and paying the excess of ₹19 lac.



Muhammad Azam Malik, S/O Late Mushtaq Ahmad Malik R/O of Kalmoona Kupwara, Jammu and kashmir (Mothers Name: Atiqa Begum), 14 Years Old, is suffering from rare blood disorder, Fanconi Anaemia- Myelodysplastic Syndrome. He was on medical treatment for the last four years. Doctors at Christian Medical College, Vellore, Tamil Nadu suggested a bone marrow transplant, which costs about  ₹23 lac. It was said (by the doctors) that the whole procedure would could about ₹25 lac. in total, and after the transplant, he would get better. But due to some medical difficulties (donor transplant not accepted by receiver), he couldn’t recover soon. From past few days his condition became severe. He has been shifted to ICU, where it costs about ₹40,000 a day ( includes cost of medicines). A excess of ₹19 lac. had to be spend, which the widowed mother of Azam can’t afford!

As of Today i.e. 26-11-2019 they have spend about ₹43 lac. (₹4340591.93 exact). Father of the patient had expired 5 Years ago, in a tragic accident. His mother Atiqa Begum has exhausted all her resources, in this long journey! 

If anyone of you would like to help our beloved Azam and help her mother during this hardship, it would be appreciated! ALL OF THE DONATED MONEY WILL GO TO AZAM’S MEDICAL TREATMENT!  please help us in spreading this message, and keep Azam and his mother in prayers!

UPDATE ON 27/11/2019

Beloved friends, I am very sad to inform you that our Azam is no more! He departed for heavenly abroad at around 4: 50 AM TODAY! but we are not stopping the donations! Her mother now needs the money to transfer Azam’s remains to Kupwara, Kashmir and pay the pending dues! AND NOW SHE needs you now the most!

It was mentioned earlier that Azams mother Atiqa ji had taken a loan, and Azams father is no more! so now we are in dire need for you contribution and prayers!

Help Mrs Atiqa remember her in prayers!

You can donate by referring to the link given below

Share it as much you can

Posted in Poetry

No Justice For Her

O wailing mother of my valley
There is no court of justice for you in the world
Their laws have felt short for your sufferings
Their constitutions are void for your emotions
Our Kashmir is left silent in the voice for justice

Let them! Let them!
Let them walk away
with the blood of you womb on their hands
Let them live these days, deaf and blind
Our silence will be the loudest voice
They lit our blood
Our blood will burn down their institutions
They blood bathed our streets
It put a blot on their image

I know,
Your heart burns everyday in remembering what you lost
No medicine on this planet can heal your wounds
Those tyrants have enshrouded the wrath of Allah
They have earned the Curse of Kashmir upon them

Posted in Poetry

How can the world accept this tyranny?

When my imaginations can’t tolerate the thoughts I am in
I enter the white pages with the ink in my heart
I start writing the randomness boiling in my body
Not sure of the words, whether framed right or wrong

My land is burning far from me but you can see the flames in my eyes
I only know, I am from Kashmir and I am a Kashmiri

Victim of pain! Victim of suppression!
Victim of bullets! Victim of pellets!
Victim of war! Victim of destruction!

O, mothers out there!
Can’t you feel the pain of mothers of my land
They have their hearts burried in the grave
They have their eyes flooded in tears
How can the world say me, don’t speak?
How can anyone compromise the counciousness?
How can my imaginations tolerate the thoughts I am in?
How can the world accept this tyranny?

Posted in Poetry


Worn out after a long weary day
I sat on a big old chair facing the west
Looking towards the beautiful twilight
and the gloomy sun of the peaceful evening
about to set behind the mighty mountains

Took a deep sigh while closing the eyes
Everything appeared still and silent
Except for the remains of chirping
Of birds, while going back to their nests
Meanwhile, I heard some little voices
Small footsteps and a lot of giggles
Twilight started fading in my mind
Something familiar with my life started to appear like a dream

“A little boy was running here and there
Smiling and playing without any care
He was Singing his own songs while catching butterflies
His mother was sneaking through the curtains
With a lot of glee and hidden smiles

He was busy in his own world of imagination
With no boundaries for love and freedom
His mother came out to catch him
Running behind with a spoon, full of food
He ran with a surprising smile to escape the love
She hid herself behind the tree
And caught him with a warm hug
Kissed his red cheek and put the spoon in his mouth
Took him inside the lovely house
Closed the door and also my dream”

Soon those voices began to fade
Last light of the sun hit my eyes
I heard someone calling from the widow
Son, get up as AZAN is being called
Wash for the prayer

I saw my mother behind the same curtains
My memories brought a tear into the eyes
I again took a deep sigh

 I saw around everything changed
But what remains unchanged was the
The love of my mother
And the time of prayer

Posted in Poetry

Imprisioned …# Kashmir

Even if I choose to remain quiet
My emotions ignites the voice within
I can’t help my hands to rest
They want to write the plight of my soul
Now, I don’t introduce my name to the people
I simply say them from where I belong
And I am alive by the grace of God

My conscious have become insomniac
It keeps rattling with the stories of my valley
I know, Kashmir is burning
I keep searching ashes in my dreams
But I find soil drenched in tears
My soul curses these tyrants and their tyranny
I break when I imagine a mother
Who tells her son to wake up from the sleep of death
she knows, tomorrow there would no sun for her son
Because these tyrants have slaughtered him to death

Stories of Autumn have faded deep in winter
Now we see seasons changing in a day
Either bloody or dry
Imprisioned inside the bricks of our own
Afraid to look out of the window
Because weak glass pans can’t save you
Only God can listen
To the imprisioned hearts inside imprisioned homes

Posted in Poetry

A HOPE… #Kashmir

A hope
that beautiful days await
At every evening, I would be in the garden
looking at the setting sun
listening to the call for prayer
waiting to bow down with the righteous ones

the war would be over
violence would end
no more homes would be raised down
no more young blood would flow
freedom would be ours
harmony would prevail
paper boats from little hands
would sail without fear
no more tears
no more screams
no more pain

A mother would not be afraid
for her son
not to return back
days would be peaceful
nights soulful
coffins would remain resting

sounds of laughter
feeling of togetherness
warmth of love
would return
rule of law
without flaw
would hold

smiles on lips would be glowing
winds would be blowing
Singing the freedom songs of martyrs
paradise would return
to the long-forgotten valley
with the mercy of Allah

they can kill me
but not my hope

Posted in Poetry

A Letter to my Mother in Kashmir


O, my mother!
I know, it has been a long time
since we talked to each other
I know, you would be restless
to inquire about my condition
I am fine, my mother
I keep remembering you
in my heart and prayers
I know what I mean for you
But don’t be upset over this separation
I have put my trust in Allah
And I know he will keep you safe
in the caged valley
My request to you is that
be grateful and thankful to Allah
that your son is still alive

O, my mother!
although it is very heavy for me to say
and for you to listen
There is another mother in our valley
who has lost her son
the piece of her heart
the light of her eyes
the happiness of her life
her everything
when I start feeling that pain
my heart screams inside me
that grave keeps haunting me
where her final kiss on his face resides
It almost makes me lost
lost in her unimaginable pain
And only hope and prayer that brings me to life
that Allah will return her son in the paradise

But my mother
I am fine
I just miss you

Posted in Poetry

Die Trying

From dirt I am made
to dirt I will return
in between lies the journey of freedom
I will die trying
whether that even being alone

to hell with the world
what if it forgets your name tomorrow
what has it remembered till now?
the wars are still there
the people are still dying
millions in my land are under siege
millions out there are being killed
in the name of peace
some lines from my friend
are still fresh in my mind
that you win the war
only when the humanity wins
the war to kill
is a loss to everyone

humanity dies every day
where I live
the tears in the eyes of a mother
speaks everything
when they take her world away
what world would you offer her to live?
yes, I mention her in every writing
because every day someone loses her son
the pain has no resemblance
a blot on the face of us
who call themselves humans
I can’t watch her to loose
which she loves the most
I can’t watch her wail
watching her son being taken to grave
these are not just words in my heart
this is all what I have

From dirt I am made
to dirt I will return
in between lies the journey of freedom
I will die trying

Posted in Poetry

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 asked 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

Posted in Poetry

Mother’s Curse in Kashmir

We will not let our voice die

even if they will cage us for lifetime

we will keep reciting the words of suffering

we will keep revising every story of brutality


They can raid our homes in nights

they can make a father stand

outside the jail to inquire about his son

But which weapon will they use

to break the struggle in us

we are not like the bird

which will die in the cage

In us remains the fight for justice

and the witness remain these desolated towns


keep rising in the sky of tyranny

that too by our blood as the fuel

yours is the next fall in the history

that we would read in our pages of revolution


our tears are out of our pain

your smirk is out your deceit

you decorated our land with the graves

we decorated those martyrs in our hearts


what you owe to those mothers in Kashmir,

do you know?

their sons

and you are now the victims of their curses