Flood In Himalayas

Give me something, something to hold on

Even a hope that may last for century

A hope that will promise an end

To blood reeking robes, to this servility

In the valley of saints, shepherds were fettered

Wolves were allowed to guard the sheep

Who took away lambs and skewered them

Such heroics, such gallantry!

I swear! Her tears will drown them all,

Another orphan gone!

Who will console her? They even caged her destiny

Give me glad tidings after I die

Write to me: “No one was killed today.”

Our correspondence will be possible

Like that half widow complaining to her husband

Who was picked up for questioning but never did return.

How she explains to him health of his mother.

His Yaqoob waiting for Yousuf.

How she tells him about their orphan

His first toy she made, His first lullaby.

Look! she still prays for her lost love

“Be safe and return soon?!”

She still hopes of his return!

On that day, what the orphan will say?

When he will hug his father.

Should he call him ‘Abu’ or would he like to hear ‘Daddy’?

Or will their union be as silent as any unmarked grave?

Looking at each other crying till eternity?

Yaqoob was blind, now Yousuf will be.

So will this Hajira holding Ismael.


Tell Noah his child didn’t go astray

He climbed that mountain just to be safe

From the river of fire that flooded Himalayas

From hounds and wolves searching for prey

From this world of dismay!


They thought they will break us

Then feed us to those hounds kept at bay

The pandit was ripped apart from mullah

History was distorted as if Child’s play!

They tore Yousuf’s shirt meant for Yaqoob

Only our determination could they never slay.


Listen to the chinar that grows near my grave

Be patient and hear him say.

He has seen bodies stitched with bullets at night

Shadows torn, hopes lynched, mutilation of day

That mourner who became martyr

Wept for his beloved and shouted to thee

“Our soul were robbed my dear

Our guilt was being a Kashmiri”


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