A Broken Couplet!

surreal-man-with-hands-covering-face1I hear a broken couplet,
On my countrymen’s lips
It is painful,
Mourning deaths.

I see sharing of bullets
On my countrymen’s chest
It is rushing blood,
To unmarked graves.               

I watch sky turning crimson red
On my countrymen’s inward eye
It is longing for an end
Of monarch’s crimes.

I hear a broken couplet,
Over and again
On my countrymen’s lips.
I want an end of a broken couplet,
On my countrymen’s lips.



“Dolesome Voice”

The bride left with no colours

Habilimented in the velvety white.

Close to the nature,

Relinquished by the crowd.

Youthful! Yet too tired,

Not of the dead cells but of the silence around.

Alone strengthening the voice,

To be heard and accompanied by someone nice.

Riding into the forest of no notes,

Searching the owner of the old ragged boots.

Smell of the skin and arch of feet,

Still same since the moment they were tamed.

In remembrance of the soul,

That smuggled into the last winter snow.

Leaving behind an impression of the hope,

Guiding an unknown to the path lone.

Like the waves reverberating from the river behind,

She believes one day sound may travel to her life.

Dolesome voice



Girl! You Need To Be Brave.

After a long morning appeared quite serene, full of calmness and reverence but my mind was busy with some kind of deep cogitation running and puzzling through. All this had made up to me even before I had peeped out of the cozy couch of mine. The series of silence I found  broken by the viciousness of the time which was stalking at me from the distance not too far than where humanity was buried alive. It took me a month to respond but some feeling when  left to hibernate come up nevertheless  with resistance too. While I got busy in studying the mind, my eyes excused me for a while and drew my attention on a coin lying on the bedside table. I just started tossing it and in no time it fell down. I was curious to see if I got a head or like any other time it is tail again. Well! I got none just because I lost the coin and my laziness didn’t bother to search it in my room except that one or two min curiosity of spotting head or tail.


This curiosity of the time took me back to the uproar in December ‘12 after a brutal incident that took place in  the capital of India. As a human I too felt the worst of what any living soul would have but then something more was there which actually was boggling my mind. This isn’t the one case to mention there are loads of files pending in the dust of the store which are left for the spider to weave webs and the insects to relish their food and many of such cases haven’t even made in the files and all these people are living in the world which have not been of any support to them. Well marches aren’t where the buck stops, petitions are not where life will push to restart, the most important thing is how society, how you, how me, how all of us are going to accept this very human being. Take my word tomorrow you, why you only even me, will be again talking at the back, O’ look! She is the girl who faced the assault and then we will share a word of pity and move on. This is what we have been doing till now. If something needs to refresh with law it’s  the thinking of the common person. It’s up to you and me how we will accept them, who will marry them and gift them new life. With these thoughts I finally decided to leave the bed, get fresh and then have a cup of tea.

While I was enjoying my cup of tea and turning the newspaper to just read the headlines out it, I had a brief look at the clock, it was already too late, the 9’O clock. I just couldn’t wait to let the tea finish but ran to my room for studying. My books were staring at me as if the hunger struck lion. By this time I understood I have to study vigorously. I was trying hard to concentrate but my heart was sinking me in thoughts of every girl who at one or other stage had faced eve teasing, mental harassment, or why not any stray comment that too by a passerby or even a bus conductor. I was by this caught in a small incident which actually wasn’t that small.

It’s an incident which took place some 2- 4 years back when I was just a student of 12th. One fine morning I was all set to leave for my school and the flush of joy of youthful days was condensing through my eyes. My dearest friend accompanying me and we were waiting for a bus at a very busy place. A girl of my own locality too was there too but before we would greet her a boy came up to her, “Hey! You are so damn too worried about your reputation, right? Yesterday your dad showered hard on me just because I like you. Now see, reach your place I will show you how to sell your reputation and character  of which you are too proud of”. On hearing this she started crying and rushed back to her place and with this the whole locality came to know the bitter truth.

The roadside Romeo with great “ Tashan” moved down the lane as a villain of the Hindi cinema who’s is proud of actually nothing and there his collar was held by the girl’s older brother. She belonged to a very noble family couldn’t have ever imagined of such incident to happen and everyone getting interested to know about the story rather than punishing a boy for his worst kind of punishment. Before any opportunity to say anything, the first shoe hurled at his head which was of her father I got brief content in the heart, then he got the worst beating from the neighbors as well.  Everyone knew about the girl and the purity of her character very well. He was dragged to the police station was left there naked and starved for the night which in itself was quite enough to get the love fever down. Now the reason is why I shared this piece. Just because of three reasons:

  • United punishment of even the minor incident gave him a lifetime lesson and to many other boys who could have ever bought same thought in mind. If we get control on these little incidents, big won’t happen. We should not be selective in response to such incidents.
  • Most important thing that day I learned “Girl! Never hide such things from your parents”. If anyone is chasing you, harassing or anything which you are resisting share it with your parents they are good ones who will understand.
  • Dear parent stay friendly with your children so that they never will feel hard to share anything to you.

This still is not the end of the play which started much before in my head and left me scratching my head to study but couldn’t because all was pouring and echoing therein. I kept thinking will this all end up there? The answer from the red fist size mass came “No”. Then I thought of another situation that is gender biasing. Yes! One of the most poorest thing that is breeding since ages in our societies. It can’t be sliced all of sudden but can be ended step by step time and time again.

Let us all collectively bring the change. Let us not be silent about the things happening around. Let us build our values stone by stone again. See it’s not about religion, it isn’t even about any culture, it doesn’t happen just in place one. It happens every where, every place, every hour, every minute rather every second a girl faces wrong. Yes at last I would like to mention “Girl at one stage or another you yourself  have to be strong”. Don’t encourage what is happening around just fight to it.

 This time never waits for my thoughts to end. Ah! I was just calming down the inner emotions the one that were overflowing and this disloyal clock of mine had by now conquered hour’s distance, it was 10’O clock! O’ God it costed me so high. Before I end I thought to be little more open hearted person and give few more minutes to clock and share some lines from my poem “Flower of the Garden” which goes like :


Pride and Decorum of the gardener,

Adding beauty and an exquisite to the garden.

Fragrance of it, the sign of purity,
Ascent it’s of the dignity.

Nothing more the soul of the flower asks,
Let it free and fly as long as its flight will last.  


The Rose Was Helpless: Humanity was dead.

The sun was shining too bright; the day was glamorous decorated in the beauty of smiles and cheerful eyes. The blue line after the time long seemed to clear, clouds had taken a rest to let the stunning rays of hope for the summer take to the roads drenched in the water since time long. Alas! Anyone knew clouds dark of the previous day had taken the life of humanity in the paradise. What next one could hope for this day, lest I could meet the real, in the saga of the hearts. Don’t wander and graze the words, just a heart wrenching truth I am putting over here in my words. Few questions are hurting my soul and seek for the answer to which I am compelled to bow my head down from the sky.

If you can’t change, why you talk?
If you can’t speak up, why you pile words? 

These two questions left my soul in deep chaos, unintentionally I too became the part of the self centered society. A flower seems beautiful unless and until it’s taken off from the branch just for mere satisfaction of the affection but after being prey of human nature it loses the essence of immense beauty and the soul ravishing smell. Here a question strikes my mind, who to blame? A flower for its beauty or the human nature of being selfish. The answer is of course next to us but silence is a tool which we all have taken up on. Speak less, think more, but don’t be silent. These thoughts aren’t just a fantasy but indeed the poor experience of the one fine day.

Same old walk, me and my dearest friend, crossing the premises of the Rumi, the place known for conquering the distance between “Darkness to light” to get back home. We were recollecting memories how day went, what could have been done and what should not have happened, the thoughts of the day were the priority of the time. Without much waiting we hired a bus and unlike other days I took to the window seat, in no time a voice hit my ear drums inquiring “Yeh bus kaha jaa Rahi hai (where this bus is going to)” to the soft tune I replied “Lal Chowk” with this it hired a bus and took over to the seat opposite to ours. All was good until a devil soul had planned to make it to the bus, the sky took to color black and the sun tried to run off but alas! Live hearts couldn’t make a difference at all.

“Life can’t be thought of the place like this,

People have forgotten the place of return.

The poisonous snake had made up to you,

Drink up the venom for ages not to return. “

That scary face, spouting beard, untidy clothes, fishy smell, torn off shoes, never trimmed nails was the picture I could sketch out in just one look of the soul who shared a seat next to sweet voice. Uncomfortable and squeezing one’s own self was what she took over but as the things went unmanageable and lest she could resist to get up and ask him to leave the space, to which he nodded head and place the shackles in this way. The voice echoed through “Jagah chodiyay ( leave the space) ” in the hard tone and space was provided. No option was left except to change the seat and he too did the same.

Tired to the moment, with the lines of worry all over the head, the glittering droplets of sweat over the face spoke of being helpless in the saga of humans but a place where humanity had sniffed death. Again, but now in stammering voice in hope that someone could help, “yo tou aap baithay bus mei ya mujhe baithnai dijayay, koyi isko kuch kaho (either you sit in the bus or let me, somebody please tell him something)”. Shun! But no one spat a word of help, heads turned around, eyes were witness of what shame was happening but the lips were frozen and frost had left them sealed. Deep inside my soul was struggling to ask them to help the hopeless voice but I too became the part of the selfish society. As every second person started gossiping so did my friend, she asked me, why no one is banging him out of the bus? I went mute, a pause of seconds and I whispered “Our souls are dead; Our Imaan is no more alive”. While collecting my broken voice to speak up more, I turned back again, spotted the regretful face. Ashamed on my helplessness I prayed just for the safety of the unknown voice.

While everyone was watching, again stoutheartedly she collected the words caged in as the lump in the throat but the pitch by now has raised, the eyes were drowned in anger and of the vexation behavior her voice fell on the ears of dead souls. The terror of each passing minute was just clear in the eyes with questions many for us. She made her presence, stood as warrior fought for her own self and with this I saw the devil hiring down the bus, Ah! A moment of respite and I took deep breaths. The voice was safe, but the question is, no one helped, why? What if tomorrow I will be at the same place should I forget that anyone will help? What if it would have been the sister or the mother of the people in the bus would they have chosen to watch the dirty picture? Has humanity really taken grave? Why men and women held silence and talked at back? Why no one could raise a voice against the devilish deed and thoughts that could steal the innocence in a blink of time?

While these questions are hurting my soul and cursing my presence lest I could resist to asking for pardon to the voice. I don’t know where you belong to, I don’t know who were you; all I know is that I was one among who didn’t help you. Since that time I couldn’t forgive my silence if my lines reach up to you, do forgive this poor soul.

As I am sharing the words doesn’t your soul tremble and scream for the right? Don’t you think we are turning more of a dumbass. Even a dog knows to safeguard, have our standard and teaching fallen prey to devilish luxuries that we turn away from right and sneak away from the truth. Where are we standing? No religion teaches this. Where is humanity? Why the death has graven it even before humans are dead? Wake up before its too late and the only thing you will be left is to wake.

“Let the old songs of humanity break the chains,
Of the vicious traces of west breeding in the valley of the saints.
Let the voice of the traditions and teachings old,
Eat away the beast who has put into our town since time unknown.”


The same was published in Local Daily “Rising Kashmir”

But with a change in name:  “I didn’t Raise My Voice.”



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.




Snowflakes hadn’t kissed me yet

Ha! Frost already turned to my way and got set

Numbed eyes searched for my own

Flooded in dreams, to get assuasive feel,

Of those world ridden wounds and screams

The one those fallen prey to droplets

Cutting off from icicles, dipped in blazes red.

Spoke the brutality of its words smashed to dust

Echoing the tranquility of the deserted land crowned with rust

They stood enough on springs to cast the film for fame

Alas! Forgotten have they, screening are they one’s own shame

Buck’s out of this gloomed place could turn their pockets warm

Doomed in their bungalow of thoughts lingering for charm

How could they satisfy soul witnessing this burning farm?

Astonished by this, I turned to way other

Kissing the bladed chest of the mother

Was an angel of her through frame another

Rested she had for years at grave unmarked

Screaming, “O’ child mine yell off, it’s you their embarked”

Melancholy in the wind turned me too dumb

To answer for any query,

I was too numb

Lingering was humanity by its own wistful arrows

They shot blindly on fleshed walls,

Germinating deep sorrows.

Yearning for years,

To wipe off tears from eyes left to weep

By insane people painting red, and

Leaving them in sleep deep

Couldn’t resist enough,

Ran off from the place

Gloomful climate traced my path,

Asking me for my unknown race

Bleeding eyes sunken deep in fear,

Worries and cries

Ransacked by its own

Being listening to chair holder’s excuses and lies

Chronically addicted to this showcase

Of the treasuries who rhyme every time

Ha-ha! Tale it has become now,

To lay one and condemn by the ton

Hardly anyone does feel bruises,

Except the family that has faced shot of a gun.

Morns do wake up my land,

Even where the sun tries enough to shun

Faith breathes and dusk clenches,

Quilt of hope to be ready for another run.


7:02 PM