Sunday, 23 December 2012


Image credits free and
This christmas
A war soldier
trapped in the deserts of an alien country
Wishes to return, to his family

Amidst the perennial drone attacks
murdering hundreds of children, once alive
A worried mother, every other night
Wishes for the survival of her child

A little girl
on the outskirts of balochistan
Wishes to roam free
on the land with no boundary
where the values of liberty and justice, stands tall
where education, is free for all

A beggar on the chilly street.
Faces cold nights which he cant beat
He watches through the window as the stocking were being set
He wishes for nothing, but a bread and a warm blanket

This christmas
as the ray of hope flickers in the sky
and birds of peace flew
an oblivious writer,
looks up and wishes
for their wishes to come true...

Shared with Poets unitedcarryontuesday and dverse.

Sunday, 16 December 2012

She waits for a storm

She waits for a storm
A storm which will bring down 
the edifices of patriarchy
and reduce them to dust.

Storm of warm winds, healing
and demanding an answer
for the wounds and the taunts
for the memories that haunts'
for the pain inflicted
physically and psychologically.
segregation and discrimination she faced
for being different biologically.
equality will prevail, female or male
As her eyes full of hope , from her home
She patiently waits for a storm

A storm that will empower her
and will blazen her fight.
As hot and vicious as the fire
which burnt her neighbour outside.
Era of dominance, it wont last when
Rape and dowry will become a thing of the past.

Slowiy and graduallly,her patience begins to wane
as the flag bearer of empowerment
began to falter from their promises.
She loses all her hope from the feminism
a movement,gravely suffers from elitism.
The cycle of same old renditions started long ago
and the world is the stage, but it has nothing new to show
she turns her head away from the window
from where she had waited.

She is frail but her will never died
Many forces she counters, as she concieves a girl child.
leaves her house, the society and the bondage
and feels free, like a lioness in the wild.
A path not easy, to make her ends meet
but she never stumbled walking on her frail legs.
she raises her child.

As her daughter starts to grow up,  now she walks to her school
with a heavy bag ,full of books.
Her mother realises that the seeds, ready to stir,
the world with a revolution, were always within her.

Now she watches her daughter silently
reading her textbook, sees the moment, that wont be long
she had been confident but never as sure of it before
and she waits for a storm..

Education is the key towards empowerment. originally written for poets united

Sunday, 9 December 2012

When I think of home

When i think of home, i think of place that we own
where the sense of familiarity is not yet gone.
Chirping of the bird and the ambience that i miss.
Where the wind welcomes me with hugs and a kiss.

A garden around the house, the flowers and the bee
House which echoes with the fairytales told to me
Where the Sunlight is warm and the winters chills my bone
When i think of home,I think of house that we own.

A place is called home when the I becomes WE
A place where I have lived with my family
Together we have faced our highs and lows
Place where we have shared our joy and sorrows.

A mind full of memories, ah they just wont end
Our neighbourhood still remembers my childhood pranks
I know there is a place when i will not feel alone
When i think of home, i think of place that we own.

(Our own house gives us much more satisfaction than any other house that we ever live in. House that we own is the one when i grew up which i call truly my home.

Shared with carry on tuesday and Poets united

Sunday, 2 December 2012

Ofcourse I am Insane

So after two months of assignments and semester exams, i am back on the blogosphere ready to write for blog a ton.

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 34; the thirty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "Of-Course, I'm insane"

A classic courtroom scene. Mr accused was seated in the wooden palisade.

"All rise" Usher echoed as Mr Judge took his executive chair. the court was ready for the proceedings.

"First case of the day"

Judge : What are the charges

Procecution : (a heavy sign)Mr Accused is charged of illegally occupying and hijacking an army truck, crashing the corridoor of the main post office building. Mr accused is charged of rash driving, running the army truck through the central park which resulted in uprooted trees, demolished benches and fountains. Mr accused then drove his truck onto the electricity poles which resulted in the blackout in 6 houses. Mr accused destroyed the underconstruction charity home before crashing the army truck into the city bank. 12 people suffered minor injuries and none were fatally wounded. rough estimation of public property loss will run into millions..

Judge : Mr accused, You dont look like a perfectly sane individual, Before assigning you a sentence for these offences, the court wshes to know about the circumstances that compelled you to do so.

Mr Accused seemed nonchalant was fiddling with a photograph half torn carrying last vestiges of sanity. Mr Accused looked innocously towards the judge perhaps not realising the gravity of the situation, he waved and said "Yo"

Judge : Mr Accused, why arent you paying attention? Are you insane?

Many questions were asked before and after he went on a rampage but no other question was as apt as this one. no other question was more worth answering than this trivial question or rather he only had the answer to this question. He took out that torn photograph from his pocket and started waving it.

Mr Accused : Hey judge look at this. people smiling gleefully
This is a photo of me and my family
A snapshot of the last christmas, which we spent together
yes, last, alas, something to cherish forever

This my son, a soldier on the taliban hunt
was brave and valient, serving on the pakistan front
He fought the climate, the flood and the sand
Hauled criminals, shot terrorists but was captured in the end.

But your nation hasnt paid any heed at all
he is in their cells, beaten and mauled
Is this how you treat a soldier who fought for you all
Is this the way you answer, a soldiers desperate call ?

But i felt helpless had nothing but my wife
seems like the happiness has been ripped out of my life
Dreams of him languishing doesnt let me sleep on my bed
I no longer pray for his life, he is better off dead.

While me and my wife were dealing with this pain
Our misfortunes struck us, once again
Time when my wifes cancer began to draw attention
Government decided to withhold my pension

I pleaded at the office, they showed me the writ
Government is liable to cut pensions, when its in deficit
I lost my house, my saving but i wasnt alone, i knew
All i had was my wife but eventually i lost her too.

Your nation is in deficit, deficit of faith and trust
From the citizens like me, system has filled me with disgust
Witnessing all this, it was difficult to keep my sense intact
yeah Ofcourse i am insane and thats the fact..

Judge : Mr Accused, you have very well presented your case. after analysing the circumstances, i instruct government to send you to the asylum for 6 months for a careful study. In the meanwhile i will write to the government to install a new branch of asylums dealing with system driven insane individuals.....

(Bang) Next case.....

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: 05