Fear

This poem is written with perspective of Dawood Ibrahim, a fortunate 15 year old to escape the Peshawar massacre. His alarm clock didn’t go off so he overslept and missed school. Every single member of his class was killed in the atrocity.

I am scared,
Scared to go inside through those doors again,
Scared to be alone without any mate to be with,
Coz they all left me to take their classes in heaven.

Should I be sad and jealous about this,
That I can’t be with them anymore,
Or rather be pleased to be here at the ground,
Safe and protected under my mother’s warm shroud.

You have your own shroud now…just yesterday I saw you all having one,
But what warmth will it be giving to your cold cadavers?
I can’t even act like being envious and asking same for me,
Though I am so distressed that I wish I had one too.

Sometimes I think am I really safe now?
Was that their last vengeance upon us?
Can I go out and play again?
With my new imaginary pals.

I can’t even shed tears anymore for you all,
Coz I am all dried up by now,
The porch of my eyely abode,
Is now just a frozen lake of tears.

I am not even that big yet,
To understand the gravity of this situation,
But I try to comprehend about it,
From the profuse denials of my mother to let me go out again.

Though I see my father standing tall as always,
Showing his obvious machismo that he is supposed to,
But through his grimly eyes I can feel,
The terrifying thought of losing me.

This fear has shaken everyone around,
Even the thought of it happening again gives me jitters,
But rather than perishing every day here like this,
More willing I’ll be to receive their bullet in my skull

Why on name of devout practices like Jihad,
Some of us even forget what humanity was like,
And every now and then carry out the extermination,
Of our own kind, the innocent and wise

Bring an end to this charade… I beg you all,
Enough with your ways of terrorizing our souls,
We aren’t scared of you or your carnage,
We are just afraid to lose our loved ones at such a young age.

Show some mercy upon our souls,
Just think for a moment, think on your own,
That why would the almighty be so willing to accept,
Those now deceased spirits whom he himself gave life to rest

Though someday you all will realize this fact,
And then repent for all your vindictive acts.
But what should I do…with nothing around,
With all my mates buried under ground.

With whom will I share my pain and joys,
To whom would I disclose all the changes I go through being a boy.
I am scared …but not scared of death alone,
What I am really scared of… is to be forever desolate and forlorn.

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The Confident ‘Selfie’ Finale Sets Up A Promising Future That We’ll Never See

One show which had a potential of becoming something which we all in the 21st century needed. But alas ABC networks didn’t understand the real taste of it’s viewers. I just hope, ABC or any other channel picks this show back.

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Back in September, Selfie burst out of the gate with a confidence that was unwavering, even when its first episode was far from perfect. It was this confidence — and the obvious potential found within that first half-hour, largely due to its two irresistible leads John Cho and Karen Gillan — that kept me (and a group of loyal viewers) returning week after week, first to ABC and then, after its frustrating cancelation, to Hulu. ABC decided to burn off the rest of the episodes on Hulu, a move that provides mixed feelings: Yes, we get to see the conclusion of a series but also we get to see how positively that series has progressed after it was deemed not good (see: popular) enough for television. In Selfie‘s particular case, we saw how important confidence was for the series — and the protagonist, Eliza Dooley.

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Winter’s Arrival

I just feel alone in this winter

With blanket hindering the chill to enter

Making me isolated from the world

And keeping me warm inside its fibres

A book is waiting beside me

And asking me to turn its pages free

But my hands deny to come out

And refuse all the pleasures around

They say they like the warmth beneath

And gave their denial for even to eat.

Miss calls!

Tring-Tring rang the cell !
Running towards that trembling bell;
Thought of someone, want to talk.
Aiming the number on screen-
Which was shimmering all light green……

After a while, shush was mobile.
I looked into it with a smile.
An old friend remembered I,
A “miss call” I don’t know why?
Is there a message to evoke?

Or is this a stupid joke?
Starts the work of guessing;
With some amount of suppressing.
Finally deciding not to hinder more;

I spell some bad, for that wicked foe.
With some more teasing sense;
He again tried to have a mess.
On this time twice it rang,

Red eyed, I shut off my cell with a bang.
Breaking his all wish of call back,
I went for a sweet sleeping spell……
Tring-Tring rang the cell;
But I went for sleeping spell!

Pursuit of becoming green…!

The time has come that we bring an end
To this old, ancient and orthodox trend
Trend of using the fruit from trees
And uprooting the same when it is use free

We did it again while making new roads
We ripped them apart using axes and ploughs
And later again for the sake of woods
We slaughtered the forests and took every piece that we could

And rivers! Oh what can I say about them
Their tale likewise trees were eerier and full of mayhem
How merrily whose water once flowed in haste
Was choked, as if chained from shackle of waste

Like Ganges, whose sheerness and chastity we pretended to adore
And then backstabbed her by pouring our filth at her shores
Either you call it divine justice or something else
But mother nature took her laugh in the ‘land of gods’ itself

Several innocents lost their soul to that holocaust
And we mortals called it mere design of god
Some referred as ‘religious martyrs’ to the deceased souls
While some called them fortunate to die at heaven’s door

What kind of sacred life are we living in this modern time?
That wise have lost their wisdom, and priest speaks odious words instead of hymns!

What kind of ominous life we are leading ourselves into now,
That even we would laugh if we knew why and how,
That how instead of talking in person to a guy
We find it much better to chat with him through a toy!

Is that the way to maintain our lineage’s past esteem?
Though it sounds so simple but it’s not as easy as it seems
How can we call ourselves good sons of our forefathers and mums?
When we are demolishing their heritage by our so called inventions.

And I wonder what kind of pater we will henceforth become
By teaching the same ways to our own sons to come
There’s still time left to halt our methods of dreadfulness
And think about something which leads to sustainable progress

There are so many ways to bring back what is lost
And it is as simple as we could ever think or ever thought
Just add mere words like ‘green’ and ‘bio’ in front
Of exquisite words like our Chemistry and the fuel that we burnt

See this is the way we make our mother nature clean
And harness the resources while her true beauty redeems
And by making less use for technology and more use of words
We can make better companions and bring harmony among us.

Hope Is Alive

As the sun set in dawning style,
But not as similar to the morning time.
I moved in the dark with my withering steps
As some of the successor went laughing by.

Little time ago, I too was in this race
But soon got lost due to my own mistakes.

I am walking alone in this nightmare dark,
With fog helping the rivals, in diminishing my spark.

Soon some passed with their successful stride
With their lights opened at ultimate height.

In my lost world, when hope was shorted sight
I found the right path, and went straight aright.

Soon that barrier of faultiness was deprived
And I got this feeling that:- Hope Was Still Alive

The Unexpected Departure

Though every second my brain cell grows,
And every moment I get one minute old,
Should I be merry that my birthday has arose,
Or rather I should be in grief that my farewell is close.

This is the delusion which simply arose,
Because of our tendency to forget and ignore.
To forget the sorrowful end we will receive,
At the end of our life for ignoring and deceive.

Deceiving those friends and admirer of thine,
Who had love and affection for you every time.
Each and every moment who would feel the pain,
Of parting with you as their affection went in vain.

They are the one who would be so obsessed,
By you and your memories and your rejoicing jest.
They were the one who deserved at least,
A last meeting with you till you take your last breath.

That last glimpse of your eye’s spark which they couldn’t get.
Those last words they heard from you which they can’t forget.
Oh! Doesn’t they deserved to see the moment when you left.
Or either to gain your meagre importance they had to give a test.

If you could come back from your eternal afterlife,
And see the dreadful condition of the people including your wife.
You would find those people are in so miserable state,
That even their tearful eyes couldn’t change the fate.

Though this rule of nature is itself so utterly bleak,
That every time when someone departs, we all start to weep.
This wailing for short time is not so prolong,
As every person on this land knows that show keeps going on.