Still disturbed because of the Pampore incident... don't know where as a nation we stand right now ... Ek tarah hum naara dete hain " yahan kya chale ga " or dusri taraf hum 3 saal ki bachi ka rape karte hain ... Ek taraf hum Shahadat ko apni manzil samajte hain or dusri taraf badkaari ko apna raasta bana liya hai... Ek taraf hum Kashmiriyat pe naaz karte hain or dusri taraf insaniyat ko qatal kar dete hain... Ek taraf hum apne deen daar hone ka dawa karte hain or dusri tarah drugs ne hamari qoam ko khokhla kar diya hai... kehne ko to or b bohot kuch hai magar baat ab kehne sunne se bohot aage nikal aayi hai... Ab waqt aa gaya hai ki hamari qoam apne girebaan mai jhaank k dekhe or apne aeb chupane k bajai, un pe parda poshi karne k bajai, un pe kaam kare or har bigdi cheez ko durust karne ki koshish kare... Ye kaam koi ek shakhs akela nahi kar sakta, is k liye hum sab ko aage aana pade ga or sath mil k kaam karna hoga... apni qoam ki islah k liye hum ne ye firqa parasti ya dusri kisi b qism ki dooriyun ko bhula ka ek sath aana hoga... Hum ne ye saabit karna hai ki hum usi qoam ka hissa hain, jis ne ek Azaan k liye 22 jawaan qurbaan kiye hain... hum ne un qurbaaniyun ko raigaan nahi hone dena... hamari qoam to pehle se hi aazmayishun se giri hui hai or us pe hum ne ye sab gunah kar k apni mushkilaat mai or izaafa kiya hai ... Mai apne Kashmiri bhai behnu se guzarish karta hun ki aao sab mil k ek naye Kashmir k liye , naye mustakbil k liye hum b kuch karein, kuch aisa ki aane wali hamari naslein hume yaad kare or hamare liye dua kare...
Ab kuch raha nahi hai kehne ko Kashmir b raha nahi ab rehne ko
Aaj mere pass koi lafz nahi kehne k liye, na koi baat hai jis se kisi ko dilasa de sakun... bas itna keh sakta hun ki ab hamare Kashmir mai jannat jaisi koi baat nahi. Jannat mai to kisi 3 saal ki bachi ka Rape nahi hota
"Was it my fault?" Asked the short skirt.
"No it happened with me too. Replied the burka."
"The diaper in the corner couldn't even speak." @sayim_m
How beautiful is a gift Delicately wrapped in paper and used to uplift, All the sorrows of life momentarily, It is as is Somebody has temporarily stopped time, And has blown the wind chimes Slowly evoking curiosity
A gift is more than a tangible item that holds A little something Of love, respect and lots of surprise to behold And one such gift is given by our Lord,
This gift seems a kiss of poison and turns out to be the medicine of your soul, Little do you know, you have all that takes to get to your goals, You are hidden in millions of smiles when you help them win, You are the reason that people's smile turns into a grin, And when you lose may there always be a gentle hand That caresses you when your life is as rough as sand
There had been a small gap at the top of the AC that was laid outside the window. It was the mid summer, my feet cold, watching the dust particles come closer and go away. I had been watching the fan rotate just like that.
Nothing seemed to be happening, as if everything had already happened.
I had already signed the divorce papers.
And so had my wife.
She was into tears already throughout those years, when I would be smoking flames of hatred with the lighted cigar.
Sometimes I would scream, and sometimes stare at her tears awfully.
She would be cooking hard, all day, cleaning up the mess that I would lay, crying hideously, so that I wouldn’t scream again at her for being too dramatic.
I hadn’t realised, she had been tired.
She had been tired wishing upon me who, she thought, would love her better.
I could hear a cab stop.
I walked out of my blanket, to the window slit, a drop of tear stuck into the eye, a cigar in my hand, watching her mascara spread out, her tears flow.
She didn’t look back, carrying her bags.
Our daughter had been asking, “ mama, are we playing hide and seek with dadda? We’ll hide and dadda will search for us!”
“Yeah!” My wife sighed. So did I. Behind the wall, in tears.
“Come and sit!” My wife pointed at the car.
Maybe she needed me to stop her. She wanted me to come over and tell her that I wanted her to stay.
My daughter, happy that dadda would someday seek for them, screamed excitedly, “Goodbye dadda! We’re going to hide! The game starts now!”
I wish I could tell her not to hide. I wish I would tell her that I’ve already lost the game. I wish I would tell her that “goodbye” wasn’t good enough.
You bloom when the sun rises, you rise like the Sunflower’s petals. When you are born, you smile to the sun’s rays. When darkness hides sun’s rays, you hide yourself, why?
Dawn raised you, and dusk let you fall!
You play by the green fields like the California Poppies. Like a naughty child, who spreads laughter, you have learnt to grow. Summer warms, you laugh, as a child? But how long do you dare to bear to play in the summer fields?
Summer let you play, but the same summer kills you!
Daisies, full of innocence, just like you.They say, someone, someday must come to take care of you. But how long do they care to water you?
Someone comes, to take care of your innocence, but forgets to water you!
Your destiny, like peonies, for an unknown man, meant for prosperity, good fortune, a happy marriage, riches, honor, and compassion. Ask yourself, have you only grown to reach up to this?
They call you their peonies, but let your colour fade like the diseased flowers.
Like pink carnation, you grow into motherhood. You grow to nurture flowers like you. But you don’t want to grow flowers anymore, do you?
You grow into flower, but are scared growing more flowers!
By the soft wind, like a tired pink rose, wrapped into a torn pink cloth, you write letters to your old life full of bloom. Should you be spreading only the soft love?
You are blooming but You don’t want to share your flowery essence!
You’re tired being a flower, aren’t you. You haven’t seen the thorn that you’ve been nurtured with. You haven’t ever dared to protect yourself by what has hurt you!
You live your whole life like the white lily, innocent, and dying.
Escape this beautiful garden, where only you spread fragrance from your tired soul.
Let me run like the brook, Into the lakes of peace, Let me fall, fall to the point Where I can’t rise, but flow. Let me sprinkle the droplets of smiles Into the innocent eyes That keep searching for happiness
The chirping music of the birds, The soft aroma of the blossoms, The fall of the stones And the stoned hearts, The fall of treasures, and the treasured hopelessness, I must let myself fall, Fall to the point Where i don’t need to rise But flow in peace.