I am the land known for its

Beauty that adds me among places serene

I am the land known for its

Orchid trees.

Some call me crown of the India,

Some call me the windpipe of Pak,

But none tried to ask me to whom I belong?

Neither cared enough even of my one thought

Well! Let me speak who I am,

I am the witness of murders done under midnight beam.

I am the witness of the screams,

  Those which echoed between the mountains strong

And got digested in the canopy of pine trees.

I am the witness of the harsh cold nights

When I was burnt to death alive.

I am the witness of the truths

For which people come with stones in hand on the streets

I am the land of tortures and miseries.

I am the land holding mothers cries

For their unripe berries.

I am the land who has to pull the knife down through its chest

To hold martyrs, whose skin spreads fragrance

 Like the newly grown roses in the paradise’s bed.

Still I do have strength and resist walking alone

Roar off my words in the rain

Of the bullets you shower on me as insane.

Keep ma’ words in your mind and grave them in your veins

I will never let the struggle of ages go in vain.

The blood of innocents and wails of mother’s

Searching for their child’s grave

  Keep my blood boiling on

Strengthens my spirit and builds up my morale

To erupt on you as a volcano and blew you off

Even if the ages will turn on

You will spot me speaking same

Till I achieve my status of being the country free

And see saluting my own flag with dignity and fame.



6 thoughts on “MY NAME IS KASHMIR

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