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Showing posts from January, 2019

When Will You Come- A Poem By Arafat Riyaz

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Yours is not sorrow, if you wish to come tomorrow. So shall you see the literal beauty of love, when are you deciding to come? Hold me in thou bosom, singing thou songs of melody! Let me feel thou rose beauty cheeks, wish I were diurnal admirer of thou sunshine smile. Have I not wailed day and night? You only have the heal. I am ready to burn all desires, are you deciding to come? When will the spring turn? Struggled in autumn for too long, when will they burn? Have they not prolong?

About Poet:
Arafat Riyaz

Untitled Canvas- A Poem By Shujaat Hussain

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Ye who wear uniforms- carrying the pernicious stuff for the residents  of this rotten city;
  ye who might be knowing   the paradise, it was once:   the land which ye knew    was bedecked by the silent smiles   of those children-   drowning in the cold blood-   starving for freedom.
  Lo! where human beings sail   with the trembling fear of guns:   ye've sewn the lips,   and perhaps bodies also   with the lethal echoes of bullets;    shall ye know?   yes, the skin is benevolent,   that it embraces every wound   yes, the lips are innocuous   that these lie silent — though, have to        speak.
And ye who fete independence by snuffing out our sky, ye who clinch our beinghood and clutch the roots  of this oft-known Chinar city;
  they say a long ago, it was   the happiest land which ye knew   had no special day—but the whole year   dipping into the sweetest sap.
  Lo! where human beings weep   with the songs till those half-mothers end   ye've dragooned us to grin   and suck th…

Develop Ideas- A Poem By Zakir Malik

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Why to let ideas go?
Should draw out even infinitesimal,
Why to let themes go?
Could essay out change radical,
Why to let motives go?
Nurture them as forest tropical,

Why to follow stipulations classical?
Kashmir's smog is totally atypical,
Smoke apostate, from times immemorial
Bounded by foggy paintings and still
Theorise afresh possiblities to chop metal
To carve out mountain to form a tunnel

Desulatory contrives had swallowed ways
Take pledge to pull in awaited sun rays
Future nursery is aforested in illegal ways
Worst is residuum are pasted with PSA's
You hath, take oath to spic huminion garbage
Research throughly, use senses to commutate.

© Zakir Malik

The Lost Friend

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From being an outstanding student to one of the youngest rebel of south kashmir, MOHAMMAD FARHAN WANI a lad from wanigund quimoh Quimoh was the youngest member of his family survived by 4 other family members. Farhan from class 0-10  studied in one of the most finest schools of islamabad (anantnag). He was a brilliant student and an outstanding mathematician. He was fond of mildly hot lipton chai with bakerkhani (kashmiri bread). He was my classmate and dearest enemy. we used to fight for reasons unknows. 
Farhan was the most honest and sincere student of our batch & had the most lavish lifestyle among us all. He always loved techy thing like calculator watches, iphones, laser lights and THE GUNS. Farhan had an unusual habit of tasting everyones lunchbox not only during our lunchbreaks but also even during classes. i personally wanted to punch his stomach (back then)  but today i wish he was here among us to open and eat our tiffins. Again.
Farhan came from a very principled and …

The Hidden Love- A Poem By Sk Muzammil

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i have hidden my feelings within my heart
i lit the boff in my eyes
when we stumble, she may not have realised
the love that will never die
when she would be dreaming at night
of aromatic forests and green grass
i think it may be that my feelings,
my heart's deviations crept out
and brought rem sleep to her

About Poet: Sk Muzammil

Photo credits: Hidden love - Painting ©2013 by Victoria Flavio - Abstract Art, Acrylic abstract piece

Shikwa: A complaint of a victim of oppression- A Poem By Kamran

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This complaint is of perpetual grief Leafing from the exceptional memory the immortal misery, And the four roomed heart.
The exit from a muscular home  Of thy creation To the ongoing oppression, We are inclosed by Draconian nights.
After leaving the ungodly night Our dawn worshipped thy might. As the day excited in its colours The connection ended to thy wires.
The indigence of high spirits  Drove me away from thy lifts.
The womb of vices Gave birth to more Pisces Diving in the water of crisis. Thy creation priced the prices, Lordly, writing the Satinic verses.
Speaking impotently,  perhaps soliloquy:
Oh the Creator of fine light You are out of my sight, A deep dark secret! Present in every bit.
You order in a mysterious way, Impatient longing their last day. 
Some are impatient to hear That you are a vacuum fear!!!
Is your judgement hit-or-miss? Are the records of barbarity codified now?
Pleading in a list, As you hear first___
We are caged in  The black hole of sorrows, By some rut…

Last Breath- A Poem By Arafat Riyaz

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Last breath when I shall take, this physical bod will fade. The bod will be lifted in a beautiful case; and everyone will forget you with the change. When Fifty winters from now, will fall, my deep sunken eyes; and soon I will be dead or I will have died as a sonny. Sedentary on this bed today, ailing and all dreams dead now. Fantasys lifeless, who will water this flower to grow. Cloudy vision, ears become deaf, body with the wrinkles, tell me my childhood, where did it fly. My life has turned, turned like a leaf. Once green and vigorous; and see now. Autumn is no more far; and pull me down with the wind. Tell them to forget me, for I have broken their pilgrim soul. Thousand cries, I am dead and pall will cross me whole, where is my soul; and soon the funeral; then i have to enter my dark home. This chapter will close, and a book to be published, to my lord, what will be done will remain behind the scene till end.

About Poet:Arafat Riyaz
Email:riyazar…

National Introspection- A Poem By Zakir Malik

Ordinary had been donkey of extra-ordinary
Work done, got wholly chamelioned
Slumbered inside hibernating cave
Woke like a bear from torpid dormancy
After, provided with pulpit of electorate Stargazy politico made horizonsome forebode
And, blind folded masses with manifesto overload
Pellects, bullets fired, along the road
Developments were surely on fastrack mode, The greenery, they made promises for
Alas! Deuteranopia got ruthly pandemic
Whilst, they were authority of contingent!
Now, take kinfolky aspect to gain entrust
Should we condole their ignimonious face? Or, express condemnation for our fault?
For, we provided roller to roll over us;
We opine religious scholars as jugheaders
Amidst, the crucial stage of decisive instant
Get down from plane, rethink consider over again
About Poet Zakir Malik

Soulmate- A Poem By Sehrish Tariq

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These dew drops of tears that you shed,
save them for someone, who will one day fashion
A pearl string out of them, and then put it on your swan neck,
like a blessing that will endure.
That someone won't hide you from the world,
Yet wont flash you like a trophy,
You will be his secret, whose paeans he'll sing to the universe,
Yet he'll sing the best song, just for the uninhibited you.
It's not that someone is not there, he's there somewhere,
Biding his time waiting for you,
No matter his coming is arranged or your make,
He won't ever have to leave.
You won't have to beg him to stay,
You won't have to be nice to him; To have your way,
But let's just say that you'll have to be your best,
To catch that ruddy sun's rays!
To him what won't matter of many things,
One will be your looks,
You won't be his second choice,
You will be his soul's puret voice.

About Poetess:
Sehrish Tariq

Midnight Thoughts- A Poem By Shafia Masoodi

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She met her 6 years self today
Full of fantasies and full of life
Happiness on peak , sadness cannot be seen
She wanted to save her from everything that is grey

So that she will be able to recognize if it's night or a day

It was only light that's she had been through

She had no idea of how harsh can world turn though
She wasn't insomniac had best sleep

Now that she is counting the scars and cuts  ,damn deep
She's been restless as if through ages
It's like the  part of her soul is underneath the cages
She's been trying harder to sleep
But She's unable to make this thing defeat

About Poet
Shafia Masoodi

Atehsaab- Ghazal By Saleem Ibrahim

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Sambhal k chalne lage thay phir se ruk ne lage Khuda ki janib do kadam chal k paun takhne lage
Kahan se laon woh zarf k dundlun parwardigar main Be-aar chesm-e-siyah sharam se jukne lage
Ki Jo maanga kabhi neeki Ka raaz humne phir  Tamanna dil ke kagaz ke tukde lagne lage 
Parinday loot aaty hai magrib ki cha'oun se pehly  Humain zalim shaam ke sitaare be  tadpane lage 
Chandd aayatun Ka virud karke kisse faqeeri milti hai  Ab tou bety b nafarmani ke zewar chedakne lage
Khud ko bacha be lun par ayaal dagmagane lage  Mere anghan ki betiyun ke b hijaab sarakne lage
About Poet: Saleem Ibrahim

Peace Not At Peace- A Poem By Saleem Mir

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You are my dream
But you break often
Like a bubble,

And again you appear
Lift me from despair
To the heavens of
Romances and care,

Where i enjoy your fragrance
And you turn into bubble again
My touch pricks you to disappear

You are my dream
But you break often,
Yes often, often

About Poet:
Saleem Mir

My Inner Tagore- A Poem By Omair Mohammadi

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Where the mind is ruled by fear and head is cut if held high, Where the knowledge is free only for the supporters of occupation;
Where the day starts with blasting of shells and chirping of birds,
Where shells fly more frequently than the flies do;


Where the world has been broken up into fragments, By filthy divisional politics and sectarian delibrations;
Where words if spoken are meant mere for deception:
Where ennervated let up stretches it's arms towards mediocrity, Where clear reasons are equated with the excuses like that 'Mistaken identity';
Where the mind is led forward by evil, Into tidy demonic thoughts and actions;
Where services of tyranny are employed to continue subjugation, Where the rivers flow red,scream and call for global intervention;
Into that hell of slavery,my Lord has my heaven turned
About Poet: Omair Mohammadi

The Winter here-A Poem By Mir Mashood

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It's not that
I have forgotten you
And It's not that
I don't remember you anymore. Darling! it's winter
The chillai kalan has landed here
Everyone prefers to be inside
Being beset of blanket ;
A blower, or a Kangri with it. Here now people don't hug eachother,
But kangri
As a butterfly ties
To a new bloomed flower. Here people take shape of tortoise
As it keeps head out of rock. We too only keep head out
but of pheran,
And none giggles at eachother. Here blanket of silence
has spread everywhere,
Birds have disappeared too
As stars nowadays in the sky. And,
Do you know?
Here, No beloved of moon
Let's the window wide open
And no beloved talks to it,
As they in summer nights. But still in such nasty scenario
It's me, who at every night
Joins the cool veranda
Just to cheer and cheer your name,
Eager to listen back echoes of it.
But alas!
Every time the echoes freeze on the way. In scenario
Where people take naps after naps.
Where a pen gives
Cool jolts to whol…

Done Being A Man- A Poem By Mohammad Ali

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Some call me a loser Some say, I'm just a dream But Is there anybody, who wishes to be the same? Oh, Is there anybody who is done being a man? When the night falls over the meek tall towers; Come find me in the old taveren, making the best brews And Let your loudest laughter embrace tomorrow's horror And some call me a sinner, Some say, don't be so lame But is there anybody who is feeling just the same; I mean, are you too done being a man? Casted away from your Home when you were little, And the geometry of scars on your face has your stroy written And all you unfathomable demons, who lurk out there in the dark; Ashamed bastards and broken hearted all Come be my brothers, in this town of love and forgiveness; For I know you all are tired of being what you are, And I too am tired of being ....... a man. Oh, I say I'm done being a man And my lonely friend sleeping on the sidewalk Are you too, done being a man? You, Oh, you! Waiting for a train to pass Are you too, do…

How A Poem Rots- A Poem By Afaaq Hameed

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There are poems that are stranded alone beneath a hollow chassis until they die inside. Unspeakable they are and some are full of ecstasy. Either the dole kills them or it's the glee that does. Like an impetuous snow of Autumn their words fall apart into flakes of dashed hopes over barren land-slopes. The metaphors die of despair and the similes suffocate. thus, the poem rots apace like a kaput desire.

About Poet:
Afaaq Hameed

I see Kashmir Now

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Kashmir I see a galaxy of stars, in the sparkle of your barrel
When you aim at my people with a finger on the trigger. I see the festival of death in your bloody eyes
When you play the naked dance of war. I see a post office flooded with letters, addressed to the lost
Tell 'Ata Mohammad' to mark the unmarked graves. I see a girl battling with her own conscience
When you pull her scarf and molest her in the midway. I see the nights searching with candles of hope
For the innocence you buried a long time ago. I see the lullabies of peace burning in my heart now
Getting doused by the red showers from the skies. I see Kashmir now, not as a paradise on earth
But as a bruised valley of graves and Mourning people
Neeraj Nawaz About Poet: Poet is Freelance RJ and Scriptwriter(103.5 FM) . He can be reached at neerajnawaz@gmail.com. Disclaimer: Views expressed are exclusively personal and do not necessarily reflect the position or editorial policy of Aalaw.in.

Rest In Firdous, MUM

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It was tenth of the new year,
Happy new year or the saddest one?
In the last quarter of the night,
I called Her at home
She picked up, but could barely talk.
Her whispers gave up her lifelessness
She was praying, only this.
That Mum get alright and fight
This time, like She had fought
Every incidence of The Angel in the pastAnd there I was, telling Him to stop,
To stop the pain He had put all of us into,
To stop the sadness from oozing out
Out of Her Eyes –The Ocean Trenches.
But the prayers, all in vain,
Unanswered, atleast in that moment.Mum has already been summoned by The Heavens
The Firdous–Topmost of Them All.
Five hours ago, She had gone away
And the Breeze was not aware yet.
So, She was just sad, not crying, not yet
And took Her last peaceful nap
Not knowing She would always be wretchedMinutes not passed, and the phones rang up.
A lie framed, just to not let the Breeze down
And She was shifted to Her own home.
Soon, began the revelation, abruptly
Like a cascade, just blinks ap…

دل میرے کیوں پریشان ہوا جاتا ہے

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دل میرے کیوں پریشان ہوا جاتا ہے کیا ہوا اگر سایہ بھی انجان ہوا جاتا ہے
کیا بُرا ہے جو رفتہ رفتہ سمجھ رہا تو ذرا ذرا تو انسان ہوا جاتا ہے
چاہے کتنا بھی سمجھے ہوشیار خودکو عشق میں ہر شخص نادان ہوا جاتا ہے
سانسیں اسکی ہیں پر ڈھدہکتا ہے کسی اور کی خاطر اپنے اس ہنر پہ دل خود حیران ہوا جاتا ہے
ہے جو مشکل یہ محّبت تو بات جان لو تم بعد اسکے تو ہر پل جاوداں ہوا جاتا ہے
اور کیا چاہئے تجھے نامور ہونے کیلئے تیرا کلام ہی بادشاہ تیری پہچان ہوا جاتا ہے شاعر :عابد بادشاہ

Let's be humane- A Poem By Saleem Mir

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Let's sow the seeds of love.
Let's talk to each other as a dove.
Let's there be no boundary walls.
Let's open up some good will stalls.

Let there be honor to elders.
As they have been our shelters.
Let the youth enjoy to their brims.
And look awesome with out grins.

Let our dawn and dusk have love knot.
Let the moon and the sun not fought.
Let the neighbors enjoy our cousin.
Let's we gossip and be a little mean.

Let the mothers shield our sins.
Let the fathers beat us and wins.

About Poet: Saleem Mir

Harassment- A Poem By Asif Khan

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Free my vacillating feet
Stand in my shoes
Walk in the market
Know how beautiful,
Harassing you is. Confusing, embarrassing,
Embedding you into yourself
Freeing my oppressing thoughts
Making you realize,
Your mistake of coming out. Walk, talk or board a bus,
Everywhere I perform my duty
With perfection
Revealing hell to you
Timely heaven upon me Darling! After all,
Men will be men
But trust me,
I, am one among them.
About Poet: Asif Khan
Email: prolifickhan121@gmail.com

It Snows For Us- A Poem By Shujaat Hussain

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Feathery cotton-orbs fall down gently from the heaven, concealing the crimson-woods, they throw shapes on the layers  of atmosphere, chuckling; a flake adores the sacrifice of a mother, consoling.
It's a delay in the mourning: the Chinar can see the frosted-land below; dead leaves are nowhere, and nowhere are the graves.
About Poet:  Shujaat Hussain from Budgam

تہذیب اور آزادی- الائ شفیع

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تہذیب مغرب نے لیا لپیٹ میں کشمیر کو دین سے غافل  کرکے چھوڑا کشمیر کو
 جوان مرد و زن ہی چلے گئے اس میں  آزادی کیسے آئے گی اس پیارے کشمیر کو 
کیوں نہ چھوڑیں گے ہم اس تہذیب کو  مل کے ہم سب آزاد کریں گے کشمیر کو
 اپنا لیں گے تہذیب اپنے کشمیر کا  ہندوستان سے آزاد کریں گے کشمیر کو شاعر  : الائ شفیع

خرد کہتی ہے اس کو اجنبی کر لو

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خرد کہتی ہے اس کو اجنبی کر لو جنوں کہتا ہے اس کی بندگی کر لو
دیے تو بجھ گئے پر فکر کیسی ہے میری آنکھیں جلا کر روشنی کر لو
ہمیشہ ہی دکھاوے کو جھکے ہو تم کبھی تو دل سے اسکی بندگی کر لو
تمہاری شاعری توہینِ اردو ہے ذرا اوزان میں تم شاعری کر لو
محبت میں ہوا جو حال مجنوں کا مری حالت بھی تم کچھ ویسی ہی کر لو
سنا ہے تم وفا میں خوب ماہر ہو فہیمَ اقبال سے بھی تھوڑی سی کر لو
فہیم اقبال۔ اننت ناگ کشمیر

We The Pro's Of Frow- A Poem By Bhat Aejaz

We are pro don't tie our " right toe"
  Due to you,we become pro's of Frow....


   Need of probe to libel,for future to see
   Here is arduous to protect our "Illusive tree"....


   Some think Accession for whole  as a "probate"
    Unknown has congeal our kashmir to "procrastinate".....


North to south ,center to out single enact as the "Probationer"
Them, judge to officer a mistrate suffers  the victim by "procedure"....



Here confusion of both soldier and rebel is equivalent...
Sacrificing the blood,without the eye on "propellent".....


Rudiment of my "true venter" pronto to hide.
I play on one side, U play upon other side.....



Me a victim of "the land"  brim with  prosector.
Oh God! Consign the land of heaven with  unbiased Representer .....

About Poet:
Name: Bhat Aejaz
Email: 
Bhataejaz250@gmail.com

Prolonged Cruel And Unjust-Treatement

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Kashmir valley has  indeed been cloaked with armed conflict since 1989. It has been facing unrest and violence since the very time, along with the bedlam has now been changed to more unrest and violence after-post Burhan wani who got his martyrdom on 8july 2016 on friday in  Kokernag area .
In this connection,the valley has been seeing a large number of youth joing militancy.
Shortly there after, their pictures  get viral with Ak 47. With difficulty
family appeals to them to shun miltancy and return to his loved ones. This truth has been continuously happening for last two years. It is self evident, we need not discourse more  to make you out of It .
On second thought,
It is important to actually show some recognition of the fact to the people residing in other countries or the people living in different parts of india that they know nothing about the life in  kashmir. They dont know inside and out how their life has been torn apart, ravaged during cordon and search operations in ord…

And I remember You- A Poem By Urfaan Lone

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Walking on a road
And a women gets out of a car
Her extra care
That her baby should not be hurt
And i remember you.
Those yellow school buses
Children in a queue and
Their soft hands held by their mothers
Stooping forward to talk
And i remember you.
Shall you see my heart
Throbbing in pain,pounding with desire
Of listening to a conversation
Of a mom with her son
And i remember you.
Early morning
When my cousin's mom comes
Knocking, tik tik tik
Murtaz lalou cxeer ha gai,sis dreie school
And i remember you.
Looking through the window
And Ubu Zar's mummy
Kissing him after every word
He mutters out of those wet hanging lips
And i remeber you.
On parents day
When all of the students sit by their mothers
Holding their half eaten juice sachets
I sit alone lifelessly
And i remember you

  About Poet:

 Urfan Lone 
  From lolab pursuing MBBS in GMC srinagar.

Positivity- A Poem By Qaisar Bashir

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Far away
In a dark dense forest
Underneath a tree,
Solitary
As I,
I beheld the moon;

She looked distraught
Like me...
Perhaps she too was tired– not
Met her love.

But unlike me
There was a welcoming warble
On her parched lips
Which made easy
My difficult journey




About Author:

Qaisar Bashir (born, 1988), translator, author and poet, hails from Bandipora, Kashmir. He has a Master's Degree in English Literature from Kashmir University. Once Upon A Time, a translation of a Kashmiri novel Akh Dour by Bandsi Nirdoush, is his debut achievement. His poems, reviews and research articles have appeared in various National and International journals and magazines like The Criterion, Langlit, Muse India, Setumeg, Tuckmegazine.com and atunispoetry.com.

The author can be reached at qaiserlone1@gmail.com

The Boy of Hills - Manan Wani by Neeraj Nawaz

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The Autumn will
No longer be beautiful
For your mother in war
who looked your ways
From dawn till dusk. The breaking of autumn is here
With you – the first fallen flower
Who glowed even in the darkest
Who shall she live for now ?
When the Manan of her life
Is gone in sulk from this world. No more waiting now;
Just the plumes of despair
For your mother in war
Who wished to see you alive
But now a bullet ridden body
Painted with crimson hues. Thy corpse in her lap
Moistening her lashes
with flood of memories
Of your happy childhood
And choking her to death With people around her
To pay their fugacious condolences
She is still feeling lonely
As I’m here, sharing the grief
And cursing the devils
Wearing the faces of doves.
About Poet: Poet is Freelance RJ and Scriptwriter(103.5 FM) . He can be reached at neerajnawaz@gmail.com.
Disclaimer: Views expressed are exclusively personal and do not necessarily reflect the position or editorial policy of Aalaw.in.

Curfewed Jhelum- A Poem By Asrar Ul Haque

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Being under locks listening
ticks of clocks, We rest in
home because we live in curfewed Jhelum.
Even we gave many lives,
Our nationality is lost in
the holocaust of curfewed Jhelum.
Hear boom and bang on the
streets of valley, the blood flows
in the curfewed Jhelum.
" Can't bear the change of colour
in me to red " cries it loud
Its our beloved curfewed Jhelum.
Oh! They call it democracy
But they still do a lot to
Curtail the rights of curfewed Jhelum.
They demand us peace, it won't
Come till justice floats in
curfewed Jhelum.
So we will love to see
Smiling, our beloved, todays
Saddest, curfewed Jhelum.
About Poet: Instagram: Asrar Ul Haque Phone:9622727822 Email:asrarulhaque002@gmail.com


The deception of farce education in modern private schools.

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Presentation of modern facility hoax , a belief annexed in minds of parents who sell the domains of their existence to fulfill the cushions of private schools in kashmir. Long before education was seen an era of sacrifice where the student was pinned in the chains of struggle, it was like a knight was put to the test of battle ground before awarded the title of knighthood in the kingdom of his goals. The saga of education has seen an endless transformation from real to reel kind of education, public transport got entertained into loafs of school comfy bus facility, worth of education got transformed from books to tallest buildings. Quality mentors got transformed from highly trained to meek un skilled mentors. Education got measured with building infrastructure, talent got fooled in the name of dance moves on the stages. Parental meetings became hub of group dances and performance was measured into cultural bollywood dance presentation. Schools did every kind of deception to alter pa…

Dear Society- A Poem By Seerat Sofi

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How are you?

I'm sorry to ask you this;

But can I say;

So many times I felt you are sick!

So I'm asking "How are you"?


Society;

You judge so well:

from the colour of my skin,

to the size of my clothes;

you judge every bit of me:

Like if;

there's a tag on my forehead;

requesting you, "Kindly Judge"..


Society ;

Do you know;

Before I come out of my home!

My mom tells me, "You look wow";

My sister's do tell me, "You look prettiest";

But The moment I step out from Gate;

Your gazes make me feel ugly;

With your every comment;

I loose my wowness;

And my pretty looks;

turn gloom;


No darling;

it's not my fault ;

I'm judged anyway;

Even when I'm veiled from head to toe;

and the moment I talk to my Guy Friend;

I'm judged;

They say;

"This is why I've veiled"


And you know ;

When I'm wearing jeans;

Even when the kurti is below my knee;

and my arms are covered up to the wrist; Yes, I cover my cleavage with &quo…

Burning The Old Year- A Poem By Kamran Bashir

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Souls depart the ephermal sphere of universe, brittle blossoms. Graves find peace releasing the potassium, The onset of liberty. Heaven is utter happiness, gazing the welkin.
An occupied vantage ground, Quenches the flames of life.
The death bell of this year, Shall itself mourn the dead. Edifices full of Kafkaesque files, Bloodlying white clothes__what we call_ A peace treaty with the regal ones, And the Rulers of this universe!!
Flee from justice,flee the scene. The Emancipation tales shall be heard now.
Routes will speak fair, Like a cat on hot bricks. Dead won't let you sleep, Your voices, ha!  A dead band of a cancerous radio.
This world should be glazed now, As it is a ticking bomb waiting to go off.
We are white birds craving peace.

© Kamran Bashir
I am a student at cluster University, Residence: Kuchmulla,Tral, Pulwama. Age:19.
Having forte to be a student first.
Pic Credits: Salomonsonjohhny.