When the war led my abode askew..

by shalinijena

The wind blew and the sun rose,
the morning woke her senses up,
the day bodes janamdin for bhaijan,
happiness is less the word than hope..
  
with flowers and scent so sweet, clambering up the stairs so thrilled,
the wrapped up love swelled pleasure in her heart,
her hands shaping adroitly on the card..
  
Her allah tells she is the unique pride,
her love her life, all so nice,
the words on her card she reads,
a smile so naive touches her dainty lips.
 
The morning woke her senses up,
the wind then blew and the sun so rose,
she ran down the streets for halwa and chai,
terrified will be, when bhaijan knows.
 
The burqua’s scarf draping her head,
she dreams as she walks, of nikaah with her childhood friend,
she smiles and takes the short cut home,
knows no danger lies in her dome.
 
She squirrels down the lane and – slips,
hands so strong grab her waist,
kicked her bones as she lay awake,
she muffled a cry and asked to leave,
they took the only thing she could give.
 
For the last thing left, they cut her throat,
as the breath ebbed at its last she prayed to her Allah and closed…
 
 
Bhai jan saw the rose lying on the card,
smiled at noor’s miniscule words,
weeping on her covered shroud
he roars for those bastard hounds.
 
The wind rose and the sun blew,
curfew, firing,stones all pulled up in queue,
the call for justice rang kashmir,
till the rear bled the skin with tear.
 
Beaten, skinned and nailed on floor,
Khadi clad wrung their hands,
They look up and ask for more,
look what you have done to my abode…
 
 
 
 
P.S- wrote it some time back after reading a sensitive article on Kashmir violence and injustice…
 

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