I saw the lifeless body of the toddler in the arms of the hospital worker

Mud and blood mixed on the face of the child and his arms loosely hanging on the side

I saw two slightly bigger children running after the hospital worker

They too were covered with mud and blood, but looked ‘ok’

I looked into their eyes through the camera that captured their video

And the eyes of these children had questions and tears both

They mechanically described how they were playing outside and a bomb fell

In a blink the house came crashing down and the rubble had hit them

The little one of the two couldn’t say more

He just said, “My mother was inside” and fell silent and a tear casually fell off his eyes

I, being the ‘sensitive’ one couldn’t take more

With one slight move of the thumb I moved down to my timeline…


Her Last Sight…

I wonder every day, as to why the ones who orchestrate the bloodshed do not see the brutality that they inflict on humanity. They scar the already bleeding , even more…what do they want? Do they want it to die with excessive blood loss? If that’s so, don’t they know that in this death…they will die too??? 
In solidarity with hazara people, particularly the mothers, the children, in solidarity with the family of Dr. Ali Haider, who was killed on monday alongwith his little son, Murtaza Haider and in solidarity with all those innocents who are killed -out of no crime of their own- every single day, in this Land of Pures…
A moment ago..
The child on the shop wanted ice cream
“It is cold, you will catch fever.”
The mother dragged him away
Not listening to his wails
She kept on walking
“I want the ice cream, mom”
He, jerked free his hand and ran back to the refrigerator
The earth shook…
Storm of dust and smoke was all over
Shrieks, cries … blood
Blood was going down on her face
She called for her son
Summed up courage and raised her head from ground
Son, my son, where are you??
In the pool of blood
There he lay
Eyes shut
He moved a bit, opened his eyes…turned his head to refrigerator
Fell down again
And that was
Her last sight…
Kuch he lamhay pehlay…
Market main wo machalta bacha
Apni maan sey ice cream ki famaish ker raha tha
Uss ki maan ney
Sardi key durr sey
Bachay kii zid ko nazar andaaz ker dia
Aur jub dhamakay sey aik lamha pehlay
Bacha, maan sey haath chura ker ice cream ki fridge ki taraf bhaga
Tou aglay he lamhay jaisay aik zalzalay sey
Zameen larz gaee
Aaah-o-baqa thee
Aur khoon main lat pat lashain
Maan ki ankh ney jo akhri manzar deakha
Wo apnay bachay ka zameen sey uthta hua sir tha
Jo aik baar refrigerator ko deakhnay key liay utha
Aur phir gir gaya
Hamesha key liay…
Photo credits: www.asiafinest.com
hazara children

The Alluring and Elusive…

It seems alluring and elusive are one of my theme thoughts…  🙂
Sulagtay huay lafz thay
Bujha hua sa lehja
Shikayat thee
Piyar thaa
Aur mohabbat kii hararat bhi
Naa-rasai ka qarb bhi 
Tumhain paa lainey ki khwahish bhi…
Her burning words
Her ashed tone
had, in it…
warmth of love
Sense of loss
An utmost desire to have You!

I Stand Alone and So Do You!

If there is insanity, madness and cruelty around us so does exist the sanity, reason and love; but even then, why most of the time we see sanity whirled away by insanity; reason flushed down the gutter by madness and love gets torn away by cruelty and insensitivity.
I think, it is because we have shed our foremost and most important identity i.e. identity of a human being. Instead, we have taken up so many other identities, which have overshadowed the humanness of being human.
We are Muslims, we are Christians, we are Hindus, Jews
We are men, we are women
We are straight and we are gays/lesbians
We are shias, we are sunnis
We are Sindhis, we are Punjabis
We like ‘them’; we don’t like ‘them’
We are fat, we are slim
And this list actually seems endless
But do we think, AT ALL that we are humans, first??
We have so many divides around and so many different lines which make us forget that above all, we are all human beings. And since we have forgotten this one identity, we are going to bearing the burnt.
We are killing each other, before standing up for the right thing, we see for whom we are standing up; before raising our voices the ‘identity’ of the other person (losing the sense that for the right cause and that is the cause of humanity, being human is enough) and in doing that we are actually destroying our ownselves. With all these divides, and considerations we are paving a way where we will ultimately stand alone…
In the following poem this anonymous women said, just the right thing (and although the poem is written in the context of women’s struggle, it equally qualifies when we talk about being human and humane):
First they came for Janice Raymond
and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t an academic.
Then they came for Mary Daly
and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a lesbian.
Then they came for  Norah Vincent
and I didn’t speak out because I didn’t even read her book.
Then they came for Lierre Keith
and I didn’t speak out because I was afraid that I’d get attacked too.
Then they came for Sheila Jeffreys
and I didn’t speak out because her honest analysis makes my queer friends uncomfortable.
Then they came for Germaine Greer
and I didn’t speak out because she seems a little full of herself.
Then they came for Diane DiMassa
and I didn’t speak out because Hothead Paisan is soooo 1990s.
Then they came for Julie Bindel
and I didn’t speak out because she seems unpleasant.
Then they came for Cathy Brennan
and I didn’t speak out because I hate that woman.
Then they came for Christine Benvenuto
and I didn’t speak out because she was married to a man.
Then they came for Issa Rae
and I didn’t speak out because I have never seen Awkward Black Girl.
Then they came for Julie Burchill
and I didn’t speak out because I don’t like that she said “shims” in a political essay.
Then they came for Gallus Mag
and I didn’t speak out because I forgot how to speak.
Then they came for me,
and there was no one left to speak for me.
– An Anonymous Woman
Courtesy: http://davinasquirrel.wordpress.com/2013/01/20/guest-post-you-are-next/

Mujrim Kaun? (Who is the Culprit?)

This is (almost) a global norm that wherever and whenever violence occurs, against women; it is the woman who is analyzed/victimized. e.g. what was she wearing? Why was she out of her safety zone (normally, home is considered safe-which is debatable- because homes are the primary nurseries of violence in most of the cases), why she was alone or with male friends, and the list goes on…
 Tum ney
Meari rooh ko zukhm zukhm kia
Kabhi baton sey, kabhi teekhay lafzon sey
Kabhi gandi nazar key teeron sey
Kabhi raah chaltay huay…
Haath pakra, kabhi awazain kaseen
Aur kabhi tum ney…
Aik wehshi ki tarah 
mearay jism pey un-ginat ghao lagaey
Libaas taar taar kia
Khoon kia meari rooh ka, meray jism ka
phir bhi
Mujrim main hee tehri
Ghar kii ‘mehfooz’ chaar deewari sey baahar jo nikli
Iss bhairion sey bharay jungle main…
My soul and my body
With the knife of your words
With the dirt of your gaze
Harassed, raped
You killed my soul; sucked life off me
But still…
I am the one to be blamed
I left the ‘safety’ of home
Entered into the world of wolves!!)

Toast to…

Let’s toast to
On the dawn of the New Year!


Odyssey of the Quest, Infinite…

"To You, who brings words to my wordless song. Thank you!!"
I Wish, my Darling, to be
As strong as Thee
To move away from all
-That may bend the knees
And weaken the heart-
In a matter of minutes!
But tell me, my Love,
Do Thou really move away?
In running beyond and far!
If so, why there are
Scattered pieces so many
Here, there, everywhere
Big and small, like eternity’s scar?
Dividing into bits, piercing Thy heart
Haunting Thy soul,falling apart
Into never ending circles….