the margins we previously loiter on are thinning. the air we breathe is only choking us. the spaces we are placed at are displaced. uprooted. and the promised dawn is no way near.
our cities are turning into cemeteries. with no walls to protect our graves either.
our grief is multiplying at fast pace. her homecoming is often observed through silent protests that scream at the walls around us yet fail to pierce through them.
we are burdened with the loss. we are tired of losing our people. our freedom. our stories. to this wretched land of ours that took away not just what we had but also who we were.
our land has fallen in love with its history. a child of separation has further alienated itself. from freedom. from love. from all the things it lacked and thus created for. its has compartmentalised its embrace. it no longer offers negotiations. treaties. peace talks. it has never known those things.
our land has waged a war. and god as bakhtawar says doesnt live in battlefields. and who wouldnt believe it more than my countrymen?
its also faiz ahmad faiz day. prison. exile. longing. whos better than him to resonate with us?
‘aaj kay naam // aur aaj kay ghum kay naam // aaj ka ghum keh hai zindagi kay bharay gulsita’n say khafa // zard patt’on ka ban // jo mera des hai // dard ki anjuman // jo mera des hai’