Who has to save the girl?

Navigation between pages has always been one of my preferred topics and same was true for today. Nevertheless, for a person like me it was today not a favourite, but one disheartening thing to do. I somehow slipped up on a video shared by certain page which was linked up to a recent incident that took place at Kaaw Mohalla, Khanyar on the eve of Eid-UL-Zuha. One unfortunate incident which too will drop dead in the law books against a thirst for justice and ultimately will result in one futile exercise of hope.


Well, a point here is that what make me write today after a long pause about such incident? I have already written numerous articles about the society’s evils and this too is no exception to them. So, for today what is it that made me once again pour my agony in these scripted lines. It is nothing except the “False show of humanity” that irked me of that video. The journalist is asking a lady who has lost her daughter in one of the heart scissoring incidents, “Tueh paeyth kya chuw mouj waeynken baitaan? (Mother, what is right now happening to you?) , Tueh kya chuw gasaan weayn kenas? (What is happening to you right now?), Tueh kya chuw basaan? (What do you feel about it?) and so on. Come on, Mr. Journalist first you call her mother then you ask her about how she feels of an incident of losing a daughter to the flames of inhumane society? How will you feel when, God forbid, your sister/female parent/daughter will ash down to dust and someone will build a story on how you feel right now about it? Even in a wildest of an imagination of such tragedy will send shivers down the spine. What sort of journalism is this? Disgusting! This is no new narrative, no new crime, ample number of such crimes take place each day, each hour, each second. Forget about getting a space in local dailies they don’t even get a person to mourn. They rest like never existing creatures in the earth full of sorrow.

Hah! This video actually played so bad that I found no better option other than stopping it there and the first 17 seconds have frozen in me. They are pain to watch. Doubtless, this video must have been made to show inhumanity, but while brings down the curtains of shame the discipline of journalism lost its own to “Fake sympathy”.

Offense is constantly clear. It is we who have blindfolded the eyes, it is we who feed it, it is we who actually nourish it and it is we who finally complain about it. It is the S.O.C.I.E.T.Y… even words don’t suit to be merged. Such tragedy!

Let me ask you a few simple questions,

How many times you have uttered when something improper is going on, even in your family or in the neighbourhood or in area around?

Have you ever done anything apart from being a mute spectator? Or being a person who watches and discusses do’s and do not’s at back?

In case you have done your bit, how well your family has supported it?

How many times you have reported wrong? Ever? Or just never?

There are so many questions and so less of an expectance of any right. Change is not one day march that we will shout and the next day it will be served. It is a struggle. It is a freedom from doomed ideology. It is a fire to orthodox ideas, cultural burdens, and above all the light into a deep lesion. To get it, we need to starve for it, else this article is only a burden to trash. In simpler words it is not about “who, when and how will save the girl”, instead it is all about “I will save the girl”.

To the fire

I did surrender myself.

Call it destiny or social iniquity,

But for now,

“I am free”.

No curse, No impudence.

Keep blaming each other

By then I shall return in womb another

I know, all over again,

Everything would be same

Faces will change

While crime will have new name.


P.S: The link to video is here  https://www.facebook.com/umaan/videos/10205806342692161/


Etiquettes! What’s that?

The cold wave appeared more intensified and the warm vapours were rushing out of the mouth as if they were in a hurry to slip up into the sky and add a little warmth to the air. Each bit of a moment was adding to the beautification of our university, the University of Kashmir. The seven storey huge building, the Allama Iqbal Library, from the gate appeared as if being packed in the mist. O’ that beauty. The sun was all stuck in the clouds and they certainly were not interested to let it shine today. As the day progressed the cold wave too did escalate but I didn’t feel much of the dipping temperature. Ah! How could I forget? I was going to meet a friend after some five of more years and this was filling my soul with the warmth of the love. Thus, it was enough to stand against the odds of the temperature.

It was afternoon, by then I had finished all my work and she called. The cell rang in its old melodious tune though this time I was too curiously waiting to hear it. I picked the call without a lapse of a minute and inquired where she will be meeting me. So, the lawn of the MCA department, Kashmir University turned out to be a venue. Woah! I am meeting my friend. I was excited. Back in my head I was thinking about her reaction, chalking out how and what we will talk after such a long time. Well! As I was walking towards the venue each step was driving me to the memorable moments we have spent during our school days and in no time I reached there. I wasn’t able to figure her out. She had a muffler over her face letting only her eyes visible. Just like the way she used to do in our school days. Oh! I can’t forget she was too very particular about, “prevention is better than cure”? Ahaan! (I whispered to myself) She is there. She took steps to me, we hugged crazily. Hey! Finally we met after the teenage in the youth. This was obvious.

Before we could deeply get into the conversation we stood near a tree. Forgetting the rest of the world does exist too. I like all time lazy placed my bag on the bonnet of the car. Well! Being no shy to say I never liked carrying it. Now, we were in conversation talking about things that were hitting the tongue first and the mind on the other moment. I believe friendship is all about speaking without thinking. Once you think before speaking, the person can’t be your friend. Anyway, the time was in a hurry as if riding on the cheetah, you know it happens, and a ball from nowhere hit my arm. For a moment I was like a stone has been hurled by someone with all the force and that hit me but I still couldn’t peg what exactly happened. I turned around and saw a boy approaching, I didn’t have a complete look over him. Urgh! I was pressing my arm in pain. I wasn’t at all astonished that a ball hit me but the moment he said, “Oye meinai O kaha tunai nai suna (I did “O”  you just didn’t listen)”, that arrogance which was palpitating on his tongue and the disrespectful tone is something I can’t stand. For a moment I stood stuck without a word. Somewhere I was going against my own words, “Girl you need to be strong”. I questioned myself, “How on the earth I gave him authority to disrespect me? This of course isn’t me”. I forgot I had a historic meeting with an old chum of mine. I forgot that anyone is around, I passed the lawn. Listen! Yes you. Next time when your ball aims to a person don’t forget bothering your tongue and speak up a sorry and instead of the lower town language better yell, “excuse me”. He replied, “Oye theek hai” moving his body left to right and right to left as if he was a B-boying. That made me quite sure why he is not  good  at speech for a reason he couldn’t balance his body which obviously clears that his head wasn’t also in a balanced state. “Oye” is a word which is most disrespectful to me and I wasn’t ready to leave the place before making him say, “Aap”.

“Speak to me in a most respectable manner and while speaking make sure you keep distance”, I said.

The scene turned more panic to others when he started heading to me as if he was all up to charge me. Well! I wasn’t afraid though I knew he will not give even a second thought while slapping me. Such were his etiquettes. He appeared no less than a frustrated student who had missed his all moral science classes during the school days and he proved that when some boys were trying to take him away and he wasn’t ready to move off or just give away courtesy a space and bother to say sorry. There in other boys appeared and asked for the same. I left the place made a point by my presence, “To tolerate nonsense is to offer someone a space to disrespect you”. Surely! I will never let someone point a finger at me.

Being hit by a ball doesn’t matter. We do sometimes even at home get injured even more badly than this but then there is point of courtesy, the nature of proving the wealthy etiquettes taught back at home by parents and teachers at school. What more right time than using them at a place when they are demanded but he miserably was lacking them.

My point of sharing this was to make it clear that today it was me and I stood up demanding a respect for tomorrow you never know. Why get hit and turn mute, then hear a low language against yourself instead of an apology, take an injury home and then complain boys are bad? No! They aren’t bad but it is just that some are and your inability to speak up against that number give away a freedom to them and offer them luxury to make their own mythological rules.

The strength isn’t always about power in arms, 

But the courage you have, to stand against the odds.



“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



Who Was Mad?

Madness! How will I define it? Frenzied I am over this term. Not because it is out of my dictionary or something like I would not have understood but this term few days back lodged me in a situation where I couldn’t answer myself, “ who is mad and what is madness?”. I kept briefing my mind that madness is a psychological disorder and a person affected is the one who is mad but then my cells didn’t accept it. Instead tried to pull me out of the bounds of the science and its definition of madness.

For a moment let me take you back to the cradle, where who you are doesn’t matter but being a reason of the cradle matters. For that one cry from theatre room, breath of a whole family is stuck. Everyone keeps on counting the seconds; each moment is no less than an eternity for a family waiting outside. Some keep tapping their feet, some are seen measuring the corridor distance, some watching the red light. Why not this kind of scene? After all it is a time to welcome the new family member.

A child if could plan his destiny wouldn’t he/she choose happiness, peace and prosperity over madness. Why one would choose to be mad? Well! It is quite acceptable that one won’t desire to turn into an abnormal being. No doubt we can design our dreams, work with them and finally establish them but none of us can go beyond what the Almighty has planned for us.

It was an autumn flavoured day, golden leaves rolling on the road with the sudden hush of cold currents of the wind. Trees were struggling to hold on the leaves which were bizarrely mashed up in green and the yellow tone. It was then while I was admiring the nature a sudden voice broke in the bus. Ya-ya-ya-ya-yaaaaaah. Some laughed, some were scared, and some were astonished to the sudden loud cry. Before anyone all could react, this middle-aged, fat, bald, round cheeky face, drooling eyed man ran up to the last seat in the bus. Sat down, stood up, sat again and then stood up again. Again a scream! All seemed frustrated. Take him down! Take him down the bus. With this the scene turned too panicky. Two boys hired the bus, started abusing him, kicking him and finally threw him off the bus. As the first kick hit I was trying to recall what exactly went wrong on be his half. Second kick; I couldn’t say a word I was insanely watching the crew that wanted him by any means get down from the bus.

The women standing by my seat,”This wasn’t a way to get him down. [Pause] No! No! This shouldn’t have been done”. This was a welcome speech but the wrong had already happened.

The bus moved, the smoke exhausted and a sign of relief on many faces. I too was okay with getting him down but not like this. He wasn’t supposedly wrong neither he was mad by choice. Madness is a mental disorder and what he did was not under his control neither he had any idea of what he was doing nor that kicking and abusing was justified.

It doesn’t take an eternity to change the present,
But it costs enough to make the beautiful future.

This wasn’t the first time I have come across such an unruly incident neither you, yes you, the one reading would have read it the first time. These things do happen and get ignored as if the right to live from such humans has been taken with the loss of their mental stability. Some sane are seen insanely irritating them, mimicking them, cursing them, abusing them, while some go to an extreme and beat them. Thus, turn them too furious.

Since we are blessed, being normal, so instead of mocking the person who has lost his/her mental ability it is better to be friendly. In case you aren’t in the mood of being good to them then please just for the sake of humanity don’t be worse too.

It needs the soul to be a human,
And being human is not easy.



What is it being a ‘New Scooterist’

“In such a situation men should be extra careful! Careful about not to ride over the pedestrians walking on pavement. After all they are taking over to pavement.”

Article as published in Greater Kashmir, dated 29-08-2013

- My response article as published in Greater Kashmir, dated 04-09-2013

– My response article as published in Greater Kashmir, dated 04-09-2013

Kashmir, a place where beauty is appreciated and the harshness of the same is so much underestimated that the cries go unheard but when a women drops a tear it gets numerous hands to swipe and they get a chance to escape the punishment. Well! These aren’t my thoughts but of the people on the road.

It was on Thursday evening when I came across an article “New Scooterists” I realized what it is to be a scooterist, to be more appropriate Lady Scooterist, in Kashmir. According to an author as the women have taken to roads, men are driving on the pavements but the strange thing is all the male members of my family and the vehicles driven by male from the areas I have travelled through are still exhausting their fuel to roads but yes I have seen some drunkards hiring the pavements and hitting the people too. Sir, I hope you are not talking about that carefulness? Or are you? As far I know according to the traffic rules pavements are better for the pedestrians walking along the road. Please spare the a pavement after all preservation of life is their prime duty.

Now coming to the point rehearsing accidents. Well! Till date I didn’t know about rehearsing accidents may I know who is supervising them. There must be a proper school for them where they learn to hit and run. If you happen to know do convey me the place because some boys, note the word some, too are rehearsing same and they too need to be addressed. By the way I never knew people hated their life and property to this extent that they have started rehearsing accidents. Such wisdom!

Your anger at being hit by a lady has pressurized your nerves too much that you have bought all women in one witness box and are aiming a single shot to all. Just like “All or None” rule and you have heartlessly chosen “all”. I am sorry on behalf of the girl who has been too harsh in reply. Her cells must have been in hyper-tonic stage that is why she has busted up in such a rude language. Moreover not to forget all aren’t same. I hope you understand.

Accepted by the author, that lady scooterists are in rarity in the Kashmir. Still he hopes to see same gender accidents over an opposite one. Sir, what frenzy is this? One more thing it is a policeman to be blamed for being too lenient with women not the one who gets a chance to flee. And yes they aren’t just lenient to women but they do same for men and that too for some hot bucks to get their pocket warm.

While an author has plausibly accepted that the license of lady drivers is a mere fiction and they are totally illiterate when talked about the traffic rules and regulations. I would appreciate if he comes up with the relevant data/ survey charts which could support his imaginary facts that he has drawn on the paper without even paying a thought about the men driving with no license or who too have not been through test trials and yes forgetting the boys who are just under-matric and are still on roads zooming too fast as a bullet out of the gun. It is too easy to take up a lines and portrait them against anyone but too hard to accept the truth when same lines reflect your breed also. You have been too caring and so social in questioning an inspector and sharing pity but too disloyal to the society that you didn’t bother to file a case against an inspector on being irresponsible towards his duty. My teacher in class 3rd or 4th taught me, “When it is about family and duty, Duty stands first”. How could you forget this?

In nutshell men you ought to be careful because you just can’t trust the lady driving why not if she is more skillful than you, which I obviously know that you won’t accept. Stay a distance away from lady drivers because it’s a male person only who is too ignorant over the crashes dispensed by her. Since such men are too busy in impressing a lady than doing a job and thus it is better to ignore the priority of addressing the first line problem and jumping over the conclusion that women should not drive for the safety of the men. Dear ladies before these men call you an accident ghosts, haunting the men of Kashmir while driving, it is better to hand over the roads to them. Though road widening is in progress but you know that old saying “Eidgah te Chu Tchoute”. Same is the case here.

I hope news about a girl getting a license to run a commercial plane would have glared into your eyes and ringed in your ear drums. Since precaution is better than cure so gentlemen please think before flying now because she might be searching a male plane to crash in and you know this is guaranteed that male pilot will be hit only. As for now she is the first girl from Kashmir.

Then our author writes “My only complaint to you is that by driving scooters, you have snatched away from men the only source of the romance of life.” Only complaint? Then what did I read while going through this article up to this point? May be the words of appreciation wrapped in the ribbon of anger to discourage the ladies who want to get rid of the pushes and comments of the ‘Romeos’ in the bus. Well! I just can’t skip mentioning if there are boys who have no moral respect and seldom care of their dignity there are also boys who have wisdom to value the same. Unlike you I can’t bundle all in one category. Also, while an author has altogether blamed the lady for poisoning the ‘only’ source of the romance of man’s life I want to ask, are the rest of men who own nothing, not having any source of romance in the life?

Sir, though I am no scooterist and will never be one because I knew what it is to be a scooterist in Kashmir and more ever you made me understand the same very nicely. I don’t disagree that there are some ladies who do not drive as per the rules just in the same manner as there are some boys but that doesn’t mean we will turn hard to all of them. It was too unfortunate to read some lines from you because you hold an esteemed job and your words to society means a lot. They make a difference. I hope you won’t take me wrong I just tried to drive you through some points that were not acceptable though I know you will not prefer the lady handling steering.

On a lighter note: “Why should boys have all the fun?” But let me tell you this is not the only fun on the earth.


– – –

This post is in response to the one published in Greater Kashmir on Thursday under the heading “New Scooterists” http://www.greaterkashmir.com/news/2013/Aug/29/new-scooterists-36.asp

And my response article was published on same local daily, Greater Kashmir, on Wednesday under the heading “On being a ‘New Scooterist”  http://jammu.greaterkashmir.com/news/2013/Sep/4/on-being-a-new-scooterist–10.asp

Pearls of the Poverty

The roadway was all deserted,

Street lights making images,

Some were of naked, and

Some of rolling bones.

I walked but couldn’t see,

An immature drinking salt,

The mute voice he carried.

Ah! I stumbled hard,

With a sore throat and a dry tongue,

Pupil glowing under the star beam,

Gazing at me,

Starved and ragged,

Human nature called me,

I stepped with a lost scarf,

Forgot the misery,

Searched the bond,

No colour, No caste,

Searching the one lost.

Paupers crying for pennies,

And I, for grandeur.

They grumbled,


“This World, a jury of miseries,

We the marionettes,

Designed for torturous ligatures,

Systematising fortunes,

For bank of presidents.

Decorating our castle,

Out of worn out candles, and

Dining a table of empty vessels,

For the pearls of the poverty.”


 I stepped to talk,

And  found my lost veil,

Stuck the pin,

Searched the pocket,

The loaf! It wasn’t desired,

Money! I never tried.

In thoughts the night passed by,

Thinking about the denial,

Of fulfilling the need,

Questioning self,

“Are these complaints then out of greed ?”




P.S:  Help the needy in the best way you can but never put a penny in their hand instead fulfil their desire. Your penny turns them handicapped your help in the right way will give them power to live the life.


The Silence Of The Mother

O’ Lady you have the patience great,

Youthful days you lost to people with no faith,

The life of you was all lost to someones drink,

Who knew nothing but abuses and kicks.

In the darks and through horrible times,

Your children always wondered for a moment of bliss.

With the unmatched partner you dared to settle down,

Just for to keep the word of your seniors in the town.

Blossoms of his where match to your cells,

You welcomed these ringing hopeful bells.

Life of yours seemed little more than serene,

Blessed you were with respect and honor,

And this was the marrow of the scene.

But who knows faith of the garden,

Whose life the autumn takes.

In a moment it turns to the smoke,

The warmth of which is the winter’s hope.


Again the time turned her insane,

In the torn veil and ragged gown,

She was asked to leave her own town,

This time buds were of the matched age.

Who didn’t care enough but dared,

To weigh her love against the bucks.

The years spent together under one shade,

Were lost in the broken branches,

Brought down with the poison of an odium.

Building in the silence of nerves and eerie of thoughts.            

In the corner alone she settled down,

Dark’s of the night were sinking her ,

The sky was accompanying and she was crying.

Pain, the crank’s voice and,

The Somberness ate away the days bright.

In this world full of the souls too insane.

Neither pleasure Nor gain,

She only hopes for the home and

The loaf of bread in the peace,

Where she could thank the Almighty,

For blessing the life full of the grace.



P.S : On the world poetry day I dedicate this post to the women of the world who at one or another moment have faced the wrong.