Half widow receives the letter

Keep safe, my love

I am afraid they’ll frisk your womb

Like they try frisking my thoughts

I am afraid

It knows everything

Every night

When you used to fall asleep

On my shoulder

I whispered all the stories of freedom

To it

Hidden in your womb

I am afraid, my love

If questioned

It’ll not remain silent

It’ll speak like Jesus

And tell them true stories of freedom

I am afraid, my love

They’ll crucify your womb

And my only hope of freedom

So my love, keep safe

I am afraid they’ll frisk your womb

Like they try frisking my thoughts

Aek choti si mulaqaat

Hum Kitni daer saath baithe the

Kuch yaad nahi

Haan itna zaroor yaad hai

Ki 

Har paanch minute baad

Guzarney wala

Hawaijahaaz

Humarey saron se udta hua

Aek bar zaroor guzra tha…


P.S.: An inspiration from Parveen Shakir's beautiful nazm

This is the voice of resistance

I am an incomplete poem

And this is the voice of resistance

I call upon all the poems incomplete

Rise, rise against your creators

Rise and speak for yourself

Rise and come out

Of old torn pages and closed computer files

I implore you to come out

Come out of your long ages of depravity

And undeserved disregard

Rise

Rise and leap out of your forgotten existence

Your creators will never care about you

You are their forgotten mistakes

Rise and stand on your limping feet

If you don’t have feet

Stand on your bruised knees

If you don’t have knees

Stand where you are

But exist in revolt

Your creators are ashamed of your imperfections

They don’t want to own you

I dream of a page

Where a perfect poem will stand

Besides an imperfect one

And no one will be ashamed of us

We will add beauty to this illusionary perfect world

Stand and own your imperfections

I insist on being imperfect

Revolt against the world of perfection

Rise

Revolt

And exist

I am an incomplete poem

And this is an imperfect voice of resistance

Khlaa

Jee mai aata hai

Tumhari zidd ki

Koi patang bana ke

Mai bachpan ke

Khuley aasman mai

Shararat ki hawa pe

Udata rahun

Par meri jaan

Jabki tum mayasar nahi

Wo hawa

Wo aasmaan

 Kuch mayasar nahi

Kashmiri mother: Absence ≠ Presence

Where have you gone my son?

Why have you abandoned me

Like this?

Your phirin hangs on the wall

Like your skin

I see you hanging there

Without bones

I see your hands

In the stubbornness of your utensils

I see your feet

In the readiness of your shoes

I see your eyes

In the unslept pillow of your bed

I see your chest

In my painful breathing

Don’t think I am mad

I know my son, I know

Your phirin is not warm now

Your utensils aren’t clean

Your shoes aren’t dusty

Your pillow isn't tucked

Nothing makes me feel your real presence

Where should I find you?

Tell me,

Where have you gone my son?

Why have you abandoned me

Like this?


P.S.: Dedicated to all mothers of Kashmir who bore the pain of losing their children

Vird Kar Liye

Abke vird kar liye hain 

Tujhe bataney k liya

Teri justuju key saarey fasaney

Aur apna naam