Free of the Stabbing Pain

You know that fancy,
Having a broken glass in hand
Sharp, and striking it through the wrist
Over and over again!

Tearing everything in the path
The threads, the skin, veins
Gushing blood and moments of pain
Counting till the last

Visions of all the was
the knives that stabbed
cups, full of poison
and that helplessness…

And now free, free of everything
Free of all the stabbing pain

 

Hypocrisy

Someone, somewhere, someday said,
“Treat people the way
you want to be treated as”

I wanted to be cared for,
affection, relation
Love!

I reciprocated the same
Giving away care and love
giving smiles away

Unlike the expectations
I got alligations
fingers pointing at me.

Called attention-seeking
and fake;
Someone to be condemned
To be steered away from

Somehow I let an allegation through
like a bullet shattered glass
blood, pain, tears; a mess

Now, I seek a mask
I seek Me!

 

He is a Human Too!

tufail-mattoo3

Talking of home, peace
the beauty of my place
the calm,
Paradise

We somehow reach conflict
the tug-of-war
nobody ready to give in
the dilemma of rope!

I narrate how, every year
we lose sons to bullets
how, abruptly
our streets are painted red

How, out of blues
a pellet hits your eye
How, in an instant
the world turns black!

I explain the mass graves
AFSPA, PSA
Tufail, Zahid, Wamiq Farooq
their graves asking for crimes

Fake encounters, promotions
disappearances
Half-widows, orphans, posthumous
Machil!

Crackdowns, rapes, torture
Papa II, Mama II
Bullets, pellets
Teargas shells!

He asks, “Why are you silent
how can you bear someone
barging doors
killing beloved

Why don’t you retaliate
fight back
serve them as deserved
An eye for an eye!

How could talks help
why yearn for justice
why empty handed
missing rifle…

How could you just sit around
mumb over blood bath
does your blood not boil
Are you so weak at heart?”

How could I explain
I have closely seen pain, death
and when I kill
does his family not die like mine?

Pained

Oh! Look my son is back home
Did I not say he would come?
He loves me more than anyone else
How could he abandon.

Come my son, you must be hungry
Toiling through the day, thirsty
Let me serve you some food to eat
Drink some water, thirst’s defeat

But why are you so silent today
Has it been too hectic day
Did you not enjoy the stuff
Or was all the work a handcuff

Look, we have many guests too
Everybody came in to see you
Won’t you talk to them even?
Would you be that rude?

Someone suddenly said, “Let go off him, sister
He was hit by a canister
His soul departed that moment
He will reside in Jannah, be content”

She replied in an angry voice
He is with me, my rejoice
And how dare you call him dead,
Don’t touch him, he’s my blood

He would not go anywhere
Like this he can’t leave me in despair
He promised he would stay by me
Then how can his early his soul flee?

Terror

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They asked, ” How are the circumstances?
Still tense and unsafe?
Do you still have bomb blasts
Or meet terrorists?”

Speech failed and so did words
Thoughts raced further than they should
All attempts to describe the place
Went futile; all in vain

This had happened even before
They were national chauvinists
Unable to understand and comprehend
Beloved national can be wrong too.

They failed to acknowledge the land a conflict
For them it an integral part
But the truth lay hidden from them
Truth being the first casualty in conflict.

They trusted what media presented and
Politicians said; situations blown out of control
Being naive,thinking all was truth
Is that not how they ruined it?

Least aware about politics
How leaders used the issue for benefits
How cruel they could be with people
Diplomats and hypocrites .

They failedto know how people disappeared
And were killed in cold blood
No terrorist did so, but
Beloved security desirous of promotions

Neither they knew how voices were suppressed
Tear gases and bullets to shoo away
For them it was only water;
And didn’t sometimes police even protect them?

What they knew wasn’t whole of truth
A three year old can’t be a threat
They weren’t killing terrorists
It was a planned genocide!

Yet, not a word escaped lips
They were national chauvinists
Perceptions and beliefs would clash if expressed
And he, the only child of his mother!

FlashBacks!

empty-cradle-by-corymarchand

She woke up to the cry of baby
Maybe it is hungry
Calling for feed it must be
Then will it sleep peacefully.

She turns to her side only to find
The cradle is empty
She thinks for a moment, “where’s my baby”
A tear escapes her eyes

The fateful day plays before her eyes
How it had suddenly fallen ill
How it was crying in pain that day
How it refused any feed.

It’s feet were cold already
Medicines were being administered
They rushed to hospital soon enough
And returned with a dead body.

She turned and tossed in bed again
Haunted by its memories
How the cradle reminded her
Of her little angel

Amongst this she got out of bed
Her daughter slept peacefully
A smile donned her face so nice
As if adorning life’s beauty!

Praying silently for safely
Of long life of her daughter
She thanks God for what she has
And tries to sleep soundly!

From Illusion To Reality

She looked around in tears
not knowing where to seek him
her curiosity only grew with time
no hopes of gaining answers.

She wandered in wilderness
dark was all she could see
and then one day it turned red
a bullet had pierced through!

Someone lay dead somewhere
conflict claimed another soul
she wondered about her father
was he just away or met similar fate?

Graves of past were raked through
ugly truths kept coming forth
each day a new revelation
silent death of hopes.

A new perspective lay before her
something she never knew existed
She thought this would reduce her pain
bringing forth her answers.

But as the truth lay naked in front
pain piercing through her heart
she could not apprehend whether to trust or not
this was something she had not imagined.

Until this she sought her father
his existence a mystery to her
But now she knew he was gone
her heroes had rendered her orphan.