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/


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.