“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




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.

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.  


“Oh! You Lost It Again”

Cold sublimed frigid lips,

Duped words, and

The margin of sun rays,

Melting icicles of the love,

The ones frozen since ages.

Truth ciphered in the song of the mansion dove,

Choked voice,

 Sculptured in today’s decorum.

Innocence was asked price,

Black sheep, a buyer in the saints looks.

Ran through alleys and fields,

Ah! Couldn’t peg down,

Fate of the day.

The salts in the soul went low,

Limbs ached bad,

Lost was energy to the sweat in a race,

Alas! The life was chased.

In the margins of green, grasped was the silk,

The moral rectitude fell prey,

To the evil of the day.

With crestfallen looks,

Realizing the harsh wrecked truth,

Enough spirit of hope to survive,

Still was breathing in.

The strong urge to punish,

Was graved,

When felon had liberty,

To pay for the felonious act,

There in once again the justice died,

And a blind lady of law in it did abide.



A letter To My Mother

Dear Mother

Salaam, I hope the days would be bright and the seasons quite serene at your place. You know mother, Today I took my pen to write the hardest of truth happening at your home. Now the sun doesn’t rise as it used to, the morning chirp of the melodious birds now go unheard, the day remains more enveloped in the dark clouds than in bright sunshine, the sun now shies away and people call it sunset, night isn’t known for dreams anymore but the insomnia is something that is more. The plight of this restless heart I want to convey you as no one can understand me so nicely as you.

Mother! The time since I have opened my eyes in this world full of charm and beauty I have grown up watching how in your garden blossoms turn to flowers but from few years why so many turn to weeds whom we want to pluck off, rather than keeping along. You know now eyes have become dry and the hearts have turned to half a pound weighing stone. It’s hard enough to even carry it along. Mother you know well, the garden looks beautiful when the trees are well enveloped in the pleasurous color green, flowers seem beautiful when petals are spreading eye pleasing colors, and the green carpet spread for miles but now this is no more accepted. Now your garden loves to stay naked as the if autumn has taken off the pride. Mother now the preference has turned around, withered tree and barren land is all that is looked upon. These aren’t the orphan words but the tale how the pride of your garden is being laden with dust and a termite of doubt has made place to heart asking “Do you still belong to the valley of the saints” ?

Mama, I have many questions and they all have the same origin, Modernization and Westernization. Dear, I don’t understand these two newly developed civilizations. You have taught me, that modernization should be in thoughts, in views, in the way of communication but our society is changing, I am disturbed, I can’t understand, I am frustrated. Mother the people who are simple, who wear Salwar Kameez are not modern any more. They are treated quite differently by the society. You know when I visit a shop with big names I am not being attended as the modern people are, although I hold quite hot crisp bucks in my pocket. You have not taught me real modernization. Mama if my brother would not have gifted me the new cell I would have not been treated well at the shop, thanks to Khalla she called at the right time and the salesman got an eye on the phone and he placed the racks down. I can’t understand this kind of attitude, this is irking me. At one moment we remain no back to quote Ralph Waldo Emerson – “Nothing is more simple than greatness; indeed, to be simple is to be great.”; Leonardo DA Vinci – “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.”; Douglas Horton – “The art of simplicity is a puzzle of complexity” and many others but at second moment we forget all in the fantasy of the gimmicks played by the society.

“Hidden under the curtains for the entire life, Simplicity paid as the last rites were carried through midnight.” — AN

Mother I don’t understand what are we waiting for? Our culture has changed all together. Today marriage is not celebrated as the union of two souls in our place but for the advertisement of wealth. The more the sounds of crackers are heard, the more warm pockets the owner has. Even though sometime the case is all together different the owner is drowned in the loan but no, he has to show the world how rich is he or should I say society is provoking him to do so. Yes! It’s the society which is responsible. Mama, It’s me, it’s you and it’s us who are responsible for such things.

Mama, why we remain quite to what we see around? Why we have blindfolded our eyes as we sit in the bus? As we walk through university gardens? As we go to different public places? Mama! kuch samaj nahi aaraha (Mother! I am not able to understand anything). Mama can’t we change it? I can’t see the land of the saint’s turning to land of devils? Mama, please guide your children. Please ask the your people to think over it. Please.

Mother! My hand is tired enough and heart overflown with pain and regret. I am dropping my pen over here and hoping for you to hold me in your lap again. I want to sleep and dream of the old beautiful garden where the innocence of the child was the lonesome treasure, where the shyness of the girl was here only jewel, where the truth of the heart was the word of the tongue, where the song of mother was the most mesmerizing sound to the ear and the food cooked by her was the real delicacy. Mama, take me back to that paradise and wake me when our garden would have turned same. Love you Mama

Thank You Mother.

Your’s loving daughter.


PS: Mother is no other than my motherland “Kashmir”. I am addressing to our MOUJ KASHEER.

Published in daily newspaper Rising Kahmir.


Also published on Kashmir Forum but with a little change in the name.

Letter to “Maej Kasheer”

Was Death Her Destiny ?

Loaded the chest with seeds of patience,

Germinated with nourishment from tears.

Calm is storm by the cuddle of words warm,

Life too young left to burn in silent charm.

Speak for right and sued she was in chains for life,

Even the strongest truth leads her to die in fright.

Day sneaks away and hands over to dark night,

To whirl the bruises gifted under shadow of light.

The soul of tyrant wasn’t ashamed yet,

Instead pulled knife through and to her went insolent.

Time went off and hatred grew,

Death of gift added to the endless guilt.

Trembling in fear she couldn’t dare to face life,

Ended the barbarous refinement and chose to die.