A swansong of the Indian Partition...
Kal humaare ghar ke diye bujhe rahenge,
Kal hum kuch rishton ke liye rote rahenge...
Tomorrow the lamps of our home will remain put out,
Tomorrow we shall keep crying for some relations...
Rishte un bantwaara hue kheton se,
Rishte un bhatakte hue jawaanon se...
Relations with those partitioned farmlands,
Relations with those misguided young men...
Rishte us chamakti Multani mitti se,
Rishte us damakti Pakhtunkhwi **** se...
Relations with the glistening soil of Multan,
Relations with the bright snow of Pakhtunkhwa...
Rishte Ganga ke us Bangali muhaane se,
Rishte Sindhu dariya aur samudr ke us mel se...
Relations with the Ganga's Bengali estuary,
Relations with the confluence of Indus and the Sea...
Rishte us Balouchi kapaas se,
Rishte udhde un kapdon se...
Relations with that Balouchi cotton,
Relations with those clothes torn away...
Rishte luti us izzat se,
Rishte mari us bahu se...
Relations with the disrobed honour,
Relations with the slain bride...
Rishte jo sajaaye the mandap mein,
Rishte jo likhaaye the jannat mein...
Relations decorated inside the temple,
Relations written in the paradise...
Tomorrow is the Independence Day of India.
An Independence attained at such high costs.
A nation divided by the illegal British occupiers on communal lines in a hotchpotch.
My HP Poem #1759
©Atul Kaushal
