Happy Independence Day!

Back then, the brute was blunt,
Antagonism was far more proclaimed,
The villain had the balls to spit enmity,
In public, throw up stinky contempt,
Shone our target, we knew where exactly to head,
Fouled us for no cards red, had us boil in a soup of rage,
The hungry was taught sour lessons of dignity, self-respect,
Swords, cannons, then bombs of dissent,
We bought him down by the neck, sought was Independence,
But, it was retribution for all the pain back then,
Now, the enemy is far more sly,
Unseen it lingers close by,
Having applied that lotion of technology, it awaits in disguise,
To strike from behind hedges of pretense…


(India celebrates its 66th Independence Day…)



Image credits: http://24by7news.com

Shredding away innocence in Pakistan’s Darra Adam Khel


There sat my father,

Bearded, in his Kameez,

Blowing up his chest,

Filling it with pride,

He saw his son confidently recall the gun’s name, “Smith and Wesson 9mm”,

Pull the trigger,

Causing a bang that echoed from the red walls of the Hindu-Kush mountains,

“.30 bore, Chinese made”, the words followed the next,

Every day, each morning, he sought pleasure from his son’s knowledge of firearms,

Patted his own back for baking that eleven-year-old in gunpowder…

Startled! Aren’t you?

I have never stepped out of my town, Darra Adam Khel,

Locked, since birth in my world of guns in Pakistan’s Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province,

So I don’t know how your world is?

How are children of my age in there?

But, today I will let you have a peep into this strange world of mine,

Where I have no one to understand, no one to help me out,

Decades in the gun-making business,

My father wants me to live, eat and breather guns,

He said, “Guns made men”, I failed to understand, how,

I wonder if you have ever come across a parent like this in your world,

Nurturing his son to turn out to be the best,

In the world’s largest illegal gun market,                              _41762134_guns2_203

Right here, on the main road to Kohat, in my Pashtun town,

Our lifeline, our only source of bread,

Even grandma says, “Your father loves you, he cares for you,

For you, he wants the best,”

Best? This was it…

Like you, I hardly can enjoy the luxury of a choice,

My fate as my grandma adds, lies in my father’s hands,

I’m locked behind bars of his dreams,

To sit back and smoke the purest grade of hashish,

Blessings for being able to have turned his son,

Into one of the finest amongst Darra Adam Khel’s ‘Bearded Engineers of Death’…



(for more on the same, refer Son of a Lion, a 2007 Australian-Pakistani drama film, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Son_of_a_Lion)