Aug 25, 2010

The Hapless CM..

"Omar pays obeisance at Khawaja`s Dargah for pacifying the bleeding paradise." This was the news published in GK that stupefied me. A naive reader may be praising the youngest CM for his very gentle concern about the valley but in truth Little Abdullah couldn`t control the present crisis in Kashmir anymore so he approached the Dargah of khawaja Moinuddin Chasti as if Khawaja sahib would get resurrected from his sacred grave and restore peace in the valley like a messiah. But in true hapless Omar sahib didnt knew what khawaja sahib might be thinking from within his tomb. Verily he`ll be cursing the fabricators of the present tribulation in the valley of which the Abdullah commune share a major fraction. The very news racked my brain to recollect a nice saying that nearer the church the farther from the god.

Aug 23, 2010

A call that turned me frantic…

15th of august, last year; it was the same heyday for India, the Independence day. Tring Tring!! My cell phone rang. An old Indian friend was calling me and before uttering the typical  Hello! she felicitated me “Happy Independence day, Dear Wajid!”.  For a while I was totally dumbfounded, thinking how to react with my mouth frozen and running out of words as if she had jammed my jugular vein. Unable to answer her properly I changed my tune and the course of conversation. Soon as I hung-up her call, something turned me frantic and left me in a helter-skelter situation.

So in order to burst away my frustration and draw the reasons for such a weird reaction of mine, I took up my pen and started to decode the contents of my disturbed head on the paper. I penned as how I could accept something which I never realized since I never felt independent in a nation which claims to be independent. Every now and then I see my brethren suffocating out of the toxic attitude of the so called largest democracy of the world. I further wondered as how I could celebrate the day after watching colossal of my valley mates openly murdered and humiliated. From my very first breath I took in Kashmir, I have seen my valley under the fencing of stress, agony and pogrom only. It has been gifted with terms like curfews, crackdowns, humiliation and fear. Even a newborn prior to hearing the first Azan, his tender ears have to hear only painful screams and sounds of blasting fires, unfortunately.  
Now knowing this entire please give me one good reason for celebrating the 15th august, not to talk of 14th August. Even Mahatma Gandhi in 1920, in protest to the JallianWalla Bagh massacre, returned back his noblest award of Kaiser-i-Hind to the British which he had received in 1915 for his work in South Africa, saying "How can one accept something from a regime that kills your brothers on one side and commiserates them with awards on the other side."

Truly speaking the majority of the Kashmiris don't know the word "independence", so needless to talk about it. Another fraction carries a vision-impaired brainless romance for Pakistan while only a minor fraction sings the Indian National Anthem with pride.
Now the parting shot: A question for all those who think Kashmiris should celebrate the I’ day of India or Pakistan:  why the streets in Kashmir look deserted every year on red letter day of 15th august when the whole Indian nation is celebrating on the streets?

To conclude I would feel contended to present my heartiest felicitations to both Indian and Pakistani nations  for their respective heydays but I  am sorry I can’t celebrate your big days here in Kashmir because the day I’ll celebrate is yet to born. I can only dream of no jackboots, no curfews, no check points and no barbered wires. Now am I really free? I think I will die finding an answer to this bewilderment.

P.S. Requesting to be excused for any emotional sting..PEACE!!!

Aug 16, 2010

_ _ بے- بسے – کشمیر _ _

Note:-this poem of me is dedicated to all those innocents who became victims of the tribulations in Kashmir....Abdul Wajid

        _ _ بے- بسے – کشمیر _ _

خداء نے بیجا تھا بناکے جنت جسکو۔۔۔

یۂ کسنے جہنم بنایا ہے اسکو۔

بہتی تھی کبھی باغ میں بہاریں۔۔۔

ابتو بس خون کی ہی ندیاں بہنے لگیں ہیں۔

پہاڑوں میں گونجتے تھے امن کے ترانے۔۔۔

اب تو بس چیخوں سے برے روتے فسانے۔

وہ برف سے سجی وادی یاد ہے تحکو۔۔۔

اب تو بس دءاں ہی دءاں نظر آرہا ہے۔

بستے تھے جسمیں ہندو اورمسلمان ۔۔۔

رہ گۓ اب تو بس مردے ‍قبرستان۔

بے فکر نکلتا تھا غریب گھر سے۔۔۔

لوٹ آوءں واپس یۂ ایک سوال بن گیا ہے۔

اسمتیں محفوظ تھیں کیا گھر کیا باہر۔

اب تو کدرداں ہی لٹیرے بنے جارہے ہیں۔۔

ھاتھوں میں لیکر قلم ہم مستقبل سوارتے تھے۔

اب تو اٹھاکے پتھر تواریکھیں لکھی جارہی ہیں۔۔

سنا تھا کھلونوں سے برا ہوتا ہے بـچپن۔

یہاں تو بندوک کی نوک پے جیے جارہے ہیں۔۔

آزادی ہوتی ہے کیا ہم بھی تو دیکھیں۔

ہم بھی تو انسان ہیں،کھلی سانس لیکے ذرا ہم بھی تو دیکھیں۔۔

سنا تھا کۂ کربلا میں ہویے تھے شہید۔

یہاں تو ہر گھر سے نکلتا ہے جنازا غریب کا۔۔۔

چلتی تھی حکومتۂ مغل-و-ڑوگرا یہاپے کبھی۔

اب تو نظامۂ مسطفا کا دور آگیا ہے۔۔۔

چیئن سے سوئیے ہیں ہند- و- پاکستان۔

مر مر کے جیتا ہے کشمیر کا انسان۔۔۔

٭٭عبدل واجد٭٭

Aug 13, 2010

A journey from Heaven to Hell


Once called as Heaven Kashmir for it was winsome.

Now Hell is the word that suits its gruesome.

Heavenly waters rolled down the Hill.

Now only blood flows across the rill.

Papa left home with satisfaction.

Now will he return is the only question?

Shadows of the chinar provided some relief.

Now the shades of the guns fill all with grief

Do you remember the snow covered December?

Now only agony goes all along the year.

The land was sacred for the Deities of all.

Now only martyrs fill its stall.

One corpse body was carried by four.

Now the ratio inverted by one: four.

Soldiers were deployed cfor the safety of the crowd.

Now they wash their bloody hands with the common man`s shroud.

Once the valley echoed with laughter.

Now everyone yells for the daily slaughter.

Excursions picnics all were amused.

Now the valley looks totally bruised.

Fountainhead was it for all the love and peace.

Now it’s the Hot-bed for all the row and feirce.

Be it a Hindu or a Muslim it meant for every creation.

Now the map got changed with adult demarkations.

No fury was there as there was no gangster.

Now people took to streets throwing stones on the monster.

Paths blossomed with greens and flowers.

Now wires lie over as stumling blocks.

Intellectuals of the wold wake up from the slumber.

Genocide is going in every nook and corner.

****************************************************************************** ****