why do men die for other men ?
what compels them to give up their lives for the lives of their fellow men ?

is it love ? is it duty ? or is it just plain madness ? is it that bond of blood ? or a promise to be better ? or is it simply what being a human is ?


the same men capable of destroying a million lives in pursuit of their own ideology ? the same men who for the purpose of their own greed and need can ignore the very definitions of civility and liberty and justice.


can we still call them men ?


what is happening at this hour in this nation, a nation which is thousands of years old and in making; isn't different from what has happened in the past and unfortunately that is going to happen in the unsuspecting future.

people are turning to an ideology that not only imprisons the free bird in the sky, but also retaliates if it so chooses to lay on a different branch.

diversity isn't celebrated anymore, but rather is frowned upon by the masses, who believe that past holds no relevance over the future.

acceptance, and the very creed upon which the great men who came before us, and made us who we are today - their legacy and wisdom is being demolished, like cards in the winds; and just like the structures of the ancient, for they no longer are painted with the colours we are familiar with today.


sheep and wolves alike, are being chased by the blood hounds, cornering every whisper with words of the system, a system that has been diseased from the inside, infecting the very veins of this great nation that has stood the test of age and it's many a poisons for millennia and more.


bit by bit the great walls of knowledge and of the enlightened spirits are being razed down by a mere fool in different costumes, performing in a circus build upon the ashes of the innocent and the innocence of the communities that now long for blood.


the very nature of this great and grave divide, is unnatural, passed down by the same set of hands that once pulled the chains and carried with them - forcefully, a plight of millions, suppressed and then set aside fanatically, all in the name of a devotional creed.

lizards in boxes pretending to be voices of the free and humane, casting their spells on the fragile and a blind audience, numb by all the back and forth between the gods, and as always, only the peasant suffers.


how many more homes must vanish before we realise there's no magic in the disappearing of colours, and the despairing remains of the one's gone, painted across the streets in black and white, begging for somebody to give them their proper funeral.

it is men who take life, animals don't **** for their sins, they never have, for they don't know what it's like to be tamed by fire.

they'd rather burn, than become more like us.

maybe that tells it all, and maybe that is why, the devil may have horns and hoofs, but it never haunts and hunts the wild.


we are what we love, but we become who we hate, always - in the end, until something worse comes around to make things better.

Now I can breath in the valley air,
Sans the fear and despair,
Though I have never been to
the scrumptious valley fair.

Stories of the turmoils,
Bloodshed and the toils,
Now I can see the sun
rising from horizon of scare.

Lofty and lushly I hear,
Chinar trees sear,
Blood red, mauve, yellow leaves,
allegorical, the bruise heal.

Insurgence has met its expiration,
Reverent, stands the nation,
And now after the tremulous affair
Let's breath in the valley air.

Bostful, the national pride,
Paradoxical waft shall end,
And as a nation, we stand,
To breath in the valley air.

The candles flicker and fumes
Rise from the wick
Into my room

A baby flame
Born at once
Took a breath and died

A mother with a coin
in her pocket chooses
poison as her diet

With gun pointing at innocents
The all say
Death for them is a child's play.......

Sundays at home, are overwhelming.
People who should think of future, are engulfed by fire of past.

Open your door to new friends, before their fingers are bruised by knocking. I said to myself... this Sunday.

Warn my Love—shut office in real time
To shun emotional practice in real time

Challenge my sense, call me in silence
This is man who will notice in real time

Repeat the history and borrow a crime
If you don't allow the justice in real time

With my rivals, you walk hand-in-hand
You are caught accomplice in real time

They left to
defend your honor
They left to
defend your shrine
The false promise
of your heaven
In their juvenile minds
Armed with evil
heavier than
their own weight
God,
Tell me why the snow is red
Tell me why my brothers are dead

They left to
defend our mothers
They left to
defend our wives
The passion burns
in their blood
To protect the last child
Shouldered with
the burden that
the uniform dictates
Minister,
Tell me why the snow is red
Tell me why my brothers are dead

There is a strange
turbulence in the air
The wind reeks
of wanton violence
I feel the same rage,
I feel the same pain
I yearn for peace
and risk your hate
With your answer
my mind might change
So,
Tell me why the snow is red
Tell me why my brothers are dead

black
like the color of his hair
when he left home at twenty
like the darkest of nights
he spent counting the grey of the stars
as if stroking the grey
on his mother’s head
b l a c k
like the dress he bought for his daughter
for when he’ll get to see her again
like the gun that adorned his hand
while his body bled
orange
white
blue
green
b l a c k
like the lines on his sister’s face
when the kohl raced with her tears
that spilled out of her eyes
while life spilled out of him
like the son his grandmother got to see-
her flesh and blood
in flesh and in blood
burnt, buried, dead
just ash
b l a c k
like the broken bangles on his wife’s wrist
as she tried to piece his broken body back together
her heart crumbling with grief
while he crumbled away from life
b l a c k
like what once had been red
and colorful
happy
amorous
is nothing but just plain dark
veiling the stars in the casket grey
the sky rests
like the tiny dancers of gold and honor
on his shoulders
confined within a coffin
cuffed in tricolor
but underneath it all
it’s all just plain
black.

I am here now
Amidst the ashes;
Away from the world's mystification.

Do not weep for me now
Remember my sacrifices;
My love, my life for the nation.

They reckon they've won now
They laugh, they celebrate-
Sad! they do not grasp the ramification.

Mother have lost her child now
Holding a grave ache in her heart.
And me- a fallen father for my girl and son!

Will I be avenged now!
Or end up like a long lost memory
Of honor and love for my country?

Will I be avenged!
Or end up as a tool in the game of politics
Between vultures clutching on the opportunity?

Born like other
I also have Mother
i am teacher
i am teacher
some call me call teacher
Some call me cheater
Do u know I also am sweeter....
Some call me weird
But to make your son best
i always tried
To imped evils
from the side of devils....
I saved your sibling from waste
I am the Teacher I never Haste
I never Fuss what money I get
I give u my life and U BET !!!
I nourish your son
When you yourself shun...
Still you treat me like a best !!!!
You Slaughter my Heart and Cook your feast !!
Still never mind
I AM TEACHER
I AM PREACHER....