To a country that never loved me back

There are questions lurking around, asking for dues, to make amends. There are answers hidden beneath the coffin of despair, apologizing but I still don’t know from where should I start. From the love I was deprived of or from the hatred reserved for me in advance. Pouring out my grievances, my despairs, my longings, my love for the country that never loved me back.

It would be sheer ungratefulness if I say I’m not safe or happy here. It would be sheer injustice to those who died fighting for their identities if I say I’m safe here. The space, the empitness between these two narratives is where I live. Utter emptiness. Vaccum. That chokes my breath. Sometimes..

I was born in small town with rustic nostalgia all around. With each passing day, like a bud grows on an unexpected place, love for this country was engraved upon this stubborn heart. With each passing day the urge to be loved in return intensified. But has anyone ever seen the sunsets of my country? How terribly beautiful they are. My story is bit of that sunset. That legit goes unnoticed. Even with all those hues and colors on the sky beautifying its nameless cities.

Living in a country with laws against you and your community is not easy. With every devoted sun that rises defying the darkness, I vow to remain loyal to my country despite all odds. With every night that hides the flaws I fervently pray for my country despite its inhumane treatment to my community. In the photographs I capture, in the odes I write, on the roads I travel, at the mountains I visit, in the streets I walk, in my longings, despair, dispondency, in my sighs cries and unshed tears, there’s a question my heart keeps on asking . Will my country ever be able to own me? With every bullet that kills my people. With every fire that fuels the hatred. With every accusation of being treacherous. Every time my country throws me out when I need it the most, a part of me dies sinking deep in the bottomless pit of utter dispondency where I long for the answer ” will my country ever going to stop treating me and my cummunity as illegitimates? Am I ever going to witness the day my country instead of disowning me embrace me for who I am?”

Despite all broken pieces, despite all wreckages , this tender heart still beats for Pakistan. My motherland. But im tired now. Im not strong enough to further carry the load of one sided love. Im not strong enough to burry my people every now and then. Im not strong enough to keep on watching the silent screams of the bereaved families. Im tired of reminding myself that I have not paid my debt yet. My country needs me. My prayers. And here I am, with every fall, standing with my country. Because loving it has never been an option. It is an obligation.

To hope. To love. To prosperity.

An Ahmadi.

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A city so broken

Desolate and barren

The spring weeps

In despair and sorrow

And sings elegies

To the aching wounds

Of the naked alleys

To the parched air

Drenched in tears

Behind whose mist

Quivering in pain

Stands a city

With head held high

A city so broken

So empty and dim

A city with love

Abandoned and blinned

A city of fragrance

And scented rose

A city now death’s

And blood’s odour

#peshawar #poem #poetry #wordcraft

To ones who lost among the stars

(Originally shared with the Unread Magazine.)

A nightly walk

Full of stars

And thoughts

Too distant

Too deep

Empty, them both

Crowded, them both

A broken melody

Of winter’s eve

A muted symphony

Of a heart’s beat

A tragic tale

Of departed love

An ode to broken

Lyre of wind

To dreams, abandoned

To souls, bereaved

The ones who lost

Among the stars

#poem #words #wordcraft

Poem

With every sun

That sets in despair

With every moon

That darkens the sky

With every star

That fades away

With every leaf

That withers away

With every day

That blurs the vision

With every night

That haunts the darkness

With every sigh

Of the doomed heart

With every tear

Of agony and distress

With empty laughs

And silent screams

Daughters of my land

Are burried and abandoned

Deep and distant

Their dreams

Their hopes

Their corpse

#poetry #poem #honorkillings #womenrights #words #wordstory #QandeelBaloch #Juticeforzainab #justiceformehwish #justiceforasiabibi #justiceforourdaughers

I wonder why..

By the river of solitude

Amidst the turmoil

Under the orchard of grief

I wonder why

The tortured silence

In the country, reigns

I wonder why the hate rules

And terror roams

I wonder why the sky loses

the hues and freshness at dawn

At dusk it faints and pines for love

Why the night is afraid

Of its own darkness

And screams aloud

With the stars above

I wonder why..

The birds no longer

Long to fly

And sing the elegies

To the lost love

I wonder why..

#poem #poetry #words #wordcraft

A broken song

The deafening silence on recent on going atrocities against Palestine is appalling. Freedom is a luxury they cant afford unless we stand with them. The tragedy of Gaza is more tragic than all the tragic plays of Greek, French and English literature and still cant be penned down for you need those alphabets those words that cant be said for they are too devastating, too destructive, too dreadful and too catastrophic. Trying to play my part via the only thing I think I am slightly good at.

A broken song.

Melancholic rhythms

Of sorrow and grief

Of death conjoined

With endless pain

Toll the knell

The city bleeds

Broken melodies

Of abandoned love

And tumultuous peace

Despaired ashes

Of tormented freedom

Lurk around

To mourn

To curse

The imposed silence

Of those who hear

Of those who see

Commiting a crime

Of sinful breed.

#Gaza #Genocide

کیا عجب ہے خدایا کہ تو چپ رہا

اب تو نوحہ بھی لکھتے قلم رک گئے

اب تو لفظوں کے معنے بھی ہسنے لگے

ظلم کی حد کی بھی کوئی حد ہے مگر

اب تو ذنداں کے دکھ حد سے بڑھنے لگے

پر یہ ٹوٹا ہوا سانس چلتا رہا

کیا عجب ہے خدایا کہ تو چپ رہا…

اور لوگوں کی چیخیں بلند ہوگئیں

خون پھر شہر یاراں میں بہتا رہا

ماں تڑپتی رہی غم کو سہتی رہی

باپ کی آنکھ پانی ٹپکتی رہی

ہر گلی میں ماتم تھا جاری رہا

کیا عجب ہے خدایا کہ تو چپ رہا…

کچرا کنڈی سے لاشیں نکلتی رہیں

تیری ہوا کی بیٹی سسکتی رہی

ہر گھڑی کو تڑپتی بلکتی رہی

اور برپا قیامت تھی ہوتی رہی

ظلم دھڑتی پہ کب سے یہ ہوتا رہا

کیا عجب ہے خدایا کہ تو چپ رہا….

میرے لوگوں کو چن چن کے مارا گیا

ان کا جینے کا حق ان سے چھینا گیا

ان کے گھر بار و دل کو جلایا گیا

دیس سے ان کو ان کے نکالا گیا

تیرے مذہب کی خاطر یہ ہوتا رہا

کیا عجب ہے خدایا کہ تو چپ رہا…

یہ وطن ہے کہ ذنداں کی تاریکیاں

لب پہ پابندیاں پاوں زنجیریاں

ایک اپنے نصیبوں میں سب آگیا

شہر جاناں اور اس کی یہ ہمجھولیاں

ان کی تحقیر پر دل یہ کٹتا رہا

کیا عجب ہے خدایا کہ تو چپ رہا..

The city, after all, still breathes.

Before the twilight of dawn

Till the late hours of dusk

Terror reigns

On empty roads

And bruised souls

Of beleagured city,

The war torn Quetta.

The rebellious sky

And treacherous hills

Supress the cries

And silence the screams

A thousand deaths

To the lost city

A tale unheard

Burried too deep

And doomed to bleed.

Amid the turmoil

Of decade’s suffering

And inflicted mourning

Under the blanket of grief

And limitless pain

The city after all

Still breathes.

For whom the day ends in despair?

For whom the night wanders and whirls?

For whom the day ends in despair?

For whom the birds mourn and sing?

For whom the empty edifices scream?

For whom the city weeps silently?

For whom the sky fades in anguish?

//

What keeps them awake

In the darkest of nights

From shuting the eyes

From letting the mind

and heart asleep?

//

In whose parting

The stars ignite?

For whose glimpse

The moon beseech to shine bright?

For whom

The silence

Remain silent?

//

For whom?

The wretched night wanders and whirls?

For whom the day ends in despair?

//

The cursed tranquility

Of the morning breeze

The doomed silence

Of the night speaks

//

The haunted tales

Of missing daughters

From nameless cities

To well known streets

For what crimes our daughters are killed?

For them the night wanders and whirls!

For them the day ends in despair!

#poem #wordcraft #words #abductions #honour

Kingdom of infidelity 

(Engraved upon the heart is the love of my country that neither hatred nor prejudice can supersede. It might be overshadowed for some reason but it is always there. But that doesnt mean i should pretend not to have heard, not to have seen)

I live in a country of wordly gods   Kingdom of infedelity, runs by mobs

The law is sacred than the human blood
No one adheres to God’s word

The poor screams their heart aloud
The deafening silence of the rich around

Mercy for the ones who kill mercilessly
Forgiven forgotten their crimes ultimately

The law is the air the murderers breathe
Their refuge shelter protector underneath

Terrorists roam free of fear
Empowered and strengthened with special care

Where Mashals are lynched and Qandeels are killed
Where darkness prevails and graves are build

Where Salam is forsaken where Qadri is glorified
Where Zia is alive and edhi has died

I live in a country of spiteful preachers
Wordly gods and the worst creatures 

#poem #poetry #wordcraft