Posted in amrita pritam, award, blog, blogger, bloggers, blogging, blogging 101, blogs, border, borders, brotherhood, childhood, communal, criticism, diary, dreams, hate, hatred, humanity, independence, independence day, india, indians, inspiration, jinnah, Life, love, love poetry, national, nehru, Pakistan, pakistani, Partition, peace, personal, poetry, punjab, punjabi, religion, social, terrorism, Uncategorized, violence, war, waris shah, writing

Sorry Neighbor.

I,

If I may,

Apologize.

I have been,

A devil in disguise.

 

Oh what ‘Aman ki Asha’?

What peace,

If I may ask?

My fellow countrymen,

A fallacy in which they bask..

 

I have killed love,

Harmony,

and every beautiful feeling.

I know hate,

Jealousy,

And why would I even conceal it?

 

Forget about a country,

Forget about a state.

The street that I live in,

There are many people I hate.

 

I may,

If I want to,

Wear a mask of love.

But really I’m a villain,

Benevolence, I don’t speak of!

 

And why,

Why on earth will I be ashamed?

And critical of myself?

Aren’t we all in this together?

How well we repel!

 

And teaching hatred,

To our kids.

Doesn’t sound so filthy.

“He did first, then I did”,

We find it healthy!

 

And isn’t this,

What’s going on?

From the past 70 years?

Blaming each other and all of the rest,

“Uh! The mistake is THEIRS!”. (always)

 

There are widows on both sides,

Childless parents,

And also orphans.

But who cares to budge, my dear,

We are totally okay with coffins!

 

Well,

We do shed a tear or two,

Whenever a soldier dies.

But the martyr can’t be yours,

‘Cause otherwise we will rejoice!

 

A fake motherland,

I like to worship,

With all my heart.

But only for a day or two,

Rest of the days I’m a total pervert!

 

Bring on,

The next 70 years now,

Shall we?

The nations we both so love,

Let’s turn ’em into a debris!

 

XOXO,

H

Posted in blog, blogger, bloggers, blogging, blogging 101, blogs, border, borders, brotherhood, communal, criticism, dreams, hate, hatred, humanity, india, indians, inspiration, jinnah, Life, love, national, Pakistan, pakistani, Partition, peace, personal, social, terrorism, Uncategorized, violence, war, writing

Pakistan Kills 2, India Kills 2…

I was going about with my morning routine; tea, breakfast and reading newspaper. Then I came across this picture which moved me to tears….

An innocent kid weeping incessantly over the mutiliated body of his father. The question isn’t here who did it. The question here is why? And for how long????!!! 
Pakistan kills 2, India kills 2. 
Children from both sides become orphans. Women from both sides become widows. Hostility grows. And for what? Only to satiate the egos of a few politicians? What personal enmity you and I have with Pakistan? Or what personal enmity does a kid or even an adult in Pakistan has with us? Nothing! 
But this killing is unstoppable. Blood is shed over and over again. We discuss this over and over again. But who listens? 
Hate has made us hopeless maniacs. We follow the herd and join the ‘I Hate Pakistan’ club. Without even knowing why it came into being. Without even knowing our follies. 
But how does that matter to this little kid now? He has lost his father forever. A father, for god’s sake! I can’t imagine in my dreams living without my father. I commit mistakes. I prance around proudly. Why? Because I know my father is there to protect me always. 
But this kid’s father was there to protect to us all. And he died. Mercilessly. 
We weep when an Indian soldier dies. But rejoice when a Pakistani soldiers dies. Why? Wasn’t he a father? Or a son? Didn’t he have any family that will mourn just like this little kid?  
How can we be so negligent towards the emotions of their families? Why can’t we all come together and stand firm on the face of the governments of both the countries that we don’t want violence. If you guys have a problem, then just stop talking. Why kill innocent people from both sides??? 
My heart pains… 
Love and respect,

Hđź’”

The Distant Freedom

I met a boy,

Distressed beyond words,

Crying relentlessly,

His appearance was shabby.

It was my curiosity,

That led me to him.

“Why are you crying?

O! Little child?”

At first he was a bit startled.

Looked at me straight in the eyes.

Then a weak voice came out,

“Nothing… It’s nothing.”

Now that I observed him,

Closely.

I couldn’t let him cry,

No.

So, I gained a bit of courage,

To ask this weeping, innocent child,

The cause of his distress.

This time, 

He was less wary of me.

Somehow, we both connected.

A feeble voice struggled to say,

“Baba is beating maa..”

And there I was,

Standing,

My hand on his shoulders,

I was speechless.

I was grappling with words.

What do I say?

How do I console?

How do I tell this little soul,

What his father is doing,

Is awry, beyond words..?

This guy lives a mile away,

From my neighborhood.

Fell in love,

With a damsel,

A heart that loved all.

People all around,

Frowned.

Love before marriage?

O! They were all embarrassed!!

Alas! Their love story,

Was short-lived.

Just like many,

We witness daily.

My friend had a dream,

To paint this world red,

The color of love.

She held her brush,

Dipped it in crimson pigment.

As soon as she took the brush out,

Her father held her hand,

Threw the brush away,

And placed a book there, instead.

She now lives a life,

In strife.

Disputes, her existence.

What was so wrong with the brush,

Anyways?

There’s a girl I see,

On the traffic signal, everyday.

Greets me with a huge smile,

And extends me a flower each time.

Wears a torn frock,

Always barefoot,

Hair gone blonde in the sun,

Skin, dry and broken…

I buy a rose from her,

For ten bucks,

Thinking,

I have bought a piece of bread for her.

And then we part ways,

Only to meet the next day.

I see, and I remain quiet.

I choose.

I choose to remain quiet.

Because I have the FREEDOM.

Yes. The FREEDOM.

Domestic violence.

Well, I should remain in silence.

Two hearts,

Forced to be apart.

Sounds too amusing,

For a gossip to kickstart!

Dreams of youth,

Kept under wraps.

This word ‘freedom’ that they taught us,

Well, it was just a trap!

Children asking for money,

On the streets.

O! Poor thing.

I may as well give.

But taxes?

Eh! How can I give it a miss?

Freedom has come down to,

Being a relative word.

For some,

It is a right.

To some,

It doesn’t come,

Even after a fair fight.

Only those celebrate it,

Who overlook its true meaning.

For the real thing is,

Freedom has never been ours…

 

P.S.- Be it Bhagat Singh, Chandrashekhar Azad or Jawaharlal Nehru; we Indians have always loved our country. Since past 70 years, we are celebrating what has gone by and keeping our eyes shut to what is happening. Winning our country back from the Britishers was not freedom. Doing anything that doesn’t harm anybody is freedom. And I’m sorry to say, that freedom has not arrived yet. So, why not work towards it? Why not work to make our beloved country an ideal country? Let’s leave all the apprehensions behind. Let’s unite in uniting this country towards the cause of love; love that has shaken the very being of the strongest of hatred prevailing in this world. For, we live only once and let’s unite to make this one life worth living 🙂

 

Happy independence day, my fellow Indians 🙂

 

XOXO,

H

Posted in 9/11, blog, blogger, bloggers, blogging, blogging 101, blogs, border, borders, brotherhood, communal, criticism, dreams, gandhi, hate, hatred, humanity, india, indians, jinnah, Life, love, national, nehru, Pakistan, pakistani, Partition, peace, religion, social, terrorism, Uncategorized, violence, war, writing

Pakistan’s Obsession With Kashmir

#IAMBurhanWani #IndiaCantSee #LetKashmirDecide

 

“141 die in a brutal Peshawar massacre”

“Women students killed in a bombing in Quetta”

“Amjab Sabri shot dead in Karachi”

“Twin suicide bombings hit Peshawar church; 127 dead”

 

And many more headlines like these.

 

I am not a Pakistan hater. I sympathize each time some untoward incident happens and takes away the lives of innocent people (not Pakistanis, nor Muslims), but people, human beings to be precise.

 

And we are all aware how convoluted Pakistan politics is. Youth icon Imran Khan celebrates the failed coup attempt in Turkey and ‘encourages’ Pakistani people to welcome a coup in their country, too. A country which celebrated the handover of power from one democratically elected government to another in 2013 (though, reports came out that the elections were rigged), is being told to give up all of that. Bravo! We all know how dictatorship has ruined Pakistan. We all know how dictatorship has ruined nations across the world. But, yeah, Pakistan Tehreek-e-insaaf chief endorses that very ideology which has prevented Pakistan to flourish.

 

Male-chauvinists lambaste a girl who wanted to shun the norms set for women across the society and the result is her being brutally murdered by her brother. Though, I am glad that her death was mourned over by majority of Pakistanis. But accept it people, it is us who are responsible for her death.

 

I sometimes wonder what is so wrong with the ideology ‘westernization’? Aren’t there people living in the West too? Don’t they have any feelings? Are they all bad? Then what harm is it that when someone tries to embrace the western culture, he or she is shamed to such an extent that they lose all hope in their very own ‘cultured society’? Thank you people for inciting the murder of Qandeel Baloch.

 

Some retards think of it as an act of bravery to shoot innocent, unarmed schoolchildren in Peshawar. There is some utmost sense of satisfaction that these retards feel while carrying out such ghastly coward acts. Similar to it is the Quetta attack where these retards killed innocent women students just to prove that women are fit to be housewives. Well, they feel threatened of these brave women and hence, they decide to silence their burning hearts with suicide bombings.

 

Why am I picking on the worst in Pakistan when it is like my dreamland? Well, I’m sick and tired of Pakistan’s ‘utterly obnoxious obsession’ with Kashmir. I don’t say that India is a perfect country. I won’t justify it. And I’ve got my own political views. But, Pakistan has this peculiar habit of putting their nose in everything ‘bad’ that is happening in India. It’s like, they’ve got such strong views about us Indians as if we are some outsiders and they are the victims of all the ‘injustice’ taking place in India. And I don’t know when they will realize that Kashmir is a part of India. And no matter how much they like to endorse this view that India has forcefully held Kashmir, they will never be able to prove it.

 

There are people like Shah Faesal out there in Kashmir who are realizing that all this ‘Azadi’ game is futile. If you want a better life, you’ve got to go the traditional way- education and a good job. But no, the Pakistani propaganda is to cripple the Kashmiris and make martyrs out of several Burhan Wanis.

 

One armed Burhan Wani dies and Pakistan announces a Black Day. But what about those unarmed, innocents that die everyday in Pakistan? Well, Pakistan is an intelligent state. They’ve got an answer to every question I’ll put forth. The innocents that are dying each day inside the Pakistani territory is all India’s fault just like the ‘innocents’ like Burhan Wani dying in India is India’s fault.

 

It is high time that we all realize that there are two nations- India and Pakistan. Not a saint (Pakistan) which is always crying foul of a devil (India) forcefully holding its self-declared child (Kashmir). And it is time for us Indians to realize the same too. Let Pakistan be, what it is. But I guess the firing (virtual) won’t stop anytime soon. It pains me to see that even the youth, which were the only hope, are also die-hard enemies of the two states. Nobody really endorses peace. Because hate sells faster than love. Can you imagine Modi winning an election by talking all sugar-coated stuff for Pakistan? Same for Nawaz Sharif and the likes of Imran Khan?

 

Nobody is ready to accept this fact. We all go on and on strewing hate at each other as if we have looted and killed each other’s family members. We all have been blinded by these hate-strewing politicians. But no, it is too straight a fact to justify it all, isn’t it?

 

Aren’t Indian army-men braving the stone-pelters in Kashmir? The army-men who are one among us. Born in ordinary families like ours and trying to save innocent lives. How hard is it to believe this fact? No one in Pakistan cries and photoshops stupid pictures when Indian army-men die, and that too daily. Children become orphans when their brave fathers die fighting the terrorists in Kashmir. But no, it doesn’t really matter. Why? Out of my understanding…

 

So, I urge all Pakistanis to get over their obsession of Kashmir and their never-ending hate for India. It won’t budge us Indians to think any less of our Kashmiri brothers and sisters.

 

That’s all I gotta say.

 

Praying for my Kashmiri brothers and sisters.

 

XOXO,

H ❤ 

Posted in blog, blogger, bloggers, blogging, blogs, border, borders, brotherhood, childhood, communal, criticism, dreams, feminism, gandhi, hate, hatred, humanity, independence, independence day, india, indians, jinnah, Life, love, national, nehru, Pakistan, pakistani, Partition, peace, personal, poetry, punjab, punjabi, religion, social, terrorism, Uncategorized, war, writing

That Forbidden Land

Does this bird fly,

High in the sky,

In that forbidden land?

I wonder…

 

Children go to school.

Their bags stacked with books.

Mothers make breakfast.

In that forbidden land.

I wonder?

 

Did she marry,

The man of her dreams?

Did she go out,

To pursue her dreams?

In that forbidden land,

I wonder?

 

Friends going on long drives.

Girls giggling in posh cafes.

Ladies gossiping on streets.

Does this happen for real?

In that forbidden land,

I wonder?

 

That forbidden land,

Have swathes of paddy fields.

Children sleeping on footpaths,

It also has a bunch of women,

Who set an example for humanity.

 

That forbidden land,

Have grandpas and grandmas,

Who tell bedtime stories,

To children just like ours.

 

Can I join them too?

Can I be a part of their dreams?

Can I not understand their feelings?

In that forbidden land,

I wonder…

 

Our history the same,

Our ancestors fought for the same cause.

But we fail to identify,

That our existence rests upon love.

 

We bicker and fight,

Trying to bring each other down.

For past sixty years, what have we reaped?

Come on, give me an answer?

 

Kids cry, wail and then laugh.

Kids, theirs and ours.

What difference is it,

That makes them our enemies?

In that forbidden land,

I wonder?

 

Heer is befuddled,

To which side she lost her lover?

Ranjha roams in every street,

Which world stole from him his Heer?

 

Put your hand on your heart.

And then think it through.

Would you like the same hate?

The abuse you shower at them?

 

What is their fault?

What did they do?

Because of a bunch of politicians,

Billions of us suffer.

 

Born in the same land.

Our problems, the same.

Then instead of sympathy,

Why so much of hatred?

 

We humans will bring Doomsday,

Soon, very soon.

Why don’t we then bring in love?

And let those wounds soothe?

 

That forbidden land,

The land we all belong to

That forbidden land,

Is waiting for you, too…

STOP STREWING HATE AT PAKISTAN JUST BECAUSE IT IS PAKISTAN. #LOVEISTHEONLYSOLUTION 

indopak_jpg_1261225g

XOXO,

H

Posted in terrorism, Uncategorized

The Heaviest Coffins

16 December, 2014. 6:35 a.m. Peshawar, Pakistan

Ammi, today I need,

Biryani in my lunch box.

Fizza will bring korma,

And we’ll have a feast.

 

Did you pack my,

Mathematics notebook?

Because today,

We will finish the syllabus.

 

Exams are approaching,

Class tests will be hectic.

I need to buy a reference book,

for Social Science, too.

 

16 December, 2014. 7:00 a.m. Peshawar, Pakistan.

Ammi, I am going.

Keep my red salwar-kameez ready.

I want to look like Humaima,

At Zehra khala‘s party, this evening.

 

16 December, 2014. 5:10 p.m. Peshawar, Pakistan.

 

Ammi, I didn’t even get to taste,

The yummy biryani that you made.

They shot at me, relentlessly.

I bled the color of my red dress…

 

But, Ammi, don’t cry…

Just hold me in your arms..

I want to sleep deeply…

Bid me a warm goodbye.. PLEASE

 

XOXO,

H

Posted in Life, love, peace, terrorism, Uncategorized, violence, war

Immortal Baba and The Mango Tree

She grew up in the same home where her baba (father) took his first steps. She would always sit beside her daadi (grandmother) to listen to the amusing tales of her baba‘s childhood. Once, baba saw some kids plucking mangoes from the tree at their backyard. The kids were wearing shabby, torn clothes. Baba knew that if his dad came to know about these kids, he would beat them with his big brown stick. The kids were being noisy. So baba, who was taller than those kids, climbed the mango tree himself and plucked all the mangoes that were hanging on that tree. Those kids were elated and thanked baba. Once, baba was beaten up at school for not doing his homework. His classmates made fun of the teacher who had beaten baba. But baba was considerate enough to know that this teacher was his well-wisher and not an enemy, as was perceived by his classmates. Baba rebuked his friends for disrespecting their teacher. When baba was some 11 years old, daadi was admitted to the hospital for a major surgery. Baba would do all the household chores and even go to the city hospital alone where daadi was admitted and give her freshly plucked mangoes. When baba saw that his parents couldn’t afford to send him to the city college by bus, he decided not to burden them and shifted to the city where he took up meager jobs to pay for his expenses.

Today, that same home is witnessing the biggest horror. The mango tree which is still standing tall and strong is also weeping as the body of baba is brought home. This veranda, where baba would sit and study for hours, this backyard, where baba had played hide and seek with his friends, this swing, which baba himself had tied to the banyan tree for his daughter; they all are screaming out of pain for the loss of this brave son.

She, however, is very proud today. She always knew that her baba wasn’t an ordinary man. Today, baba has proved it. He killed seven bad men at the border just for the sake of billions of sons and daughters like herself. Baba did die. Yes. But he didn’t die an ordinary death. He is immortal in the hearts of those who are sleeping without any worry in their cosy homes, while she, daadi, mama and her brother are crying…along with this home where baba learnt the meaning of love, bravery, compassion and selflessness…

 

XOXO,

H ❤

 

Posted in national, social, terrorism

We, The Antagonists!

I was supposed to go watch Bajrangi Bhaijaan today. But it got cancelled because of the terrorist attack in Gurdaspur. I’m frustrated.

Selfish, isn’t it? I know!

But what frustrates me more is the fact that some educated retards are blabbing unsavoury comments about a nation since morning. Now, our judicial system may take over THIRTY YEARS (you read that right!) to reach a verdict, but our fellow nationals have their own courts and reach their own gibberish verdicts in splitseconds.

Pakistan, Pakistan, Pakistan!!

Nawaz Sharif, Nawaz Sharif, Nawaz Sharif!!!

Hafeez Saeed, Hafeez Saeed, Hafeez Saeed!!!

And oh, how can I forget this one; Taliban, Taliban, Taliban!!!

We know it all!! We know how we, the undefiled victims, are being constantly harassed by our neighbouring nation!!

You noe what, this is just too frustrating a topic for me to write about. Because we have gone so profane and indifferent to the fact that humans are living on the other side too.

Why bloody curse the whole nation??!!!

And then they make fun of the peacemakers, ridiculing them as just seculars and humanitarians.

Control your evil minds, dear Indians. Control it before you too become an extremist!

RIP the victims of this very unfortunate terrorist attack in Gurdaspur.

XOXO

H ❤