Scary Holi

The festival of holi knocks the door. The festival of colour. With joy all around, making this po em scary is so much fun.



I wake up in the season of festivity
I see outside, People playing holi.
Drenched in water, draped in hues
Looking like zombies.
Approaching me with bloodshot eyes
Oh god! should i be scared?
Will they rob me, or will they kill me?


Written for Word count by Mama Zen

Silently

No, Don't be afraid, open the portals of your heart
Let me sneak ,my way in  silently

Hush! Do not speak, I know what is in your heart
Let your eyes confess to me, Silently

 Now the silence surrounds us in tranquility
let me make you mine in this silence, Silently.

Whatever may come, we will face it together
You will find me walking beside you, Silently.

No, even  the death cant part us now
because i will come following you
Silently.

Wishes

Image credits free and forgive.com

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 united, carryontuesday and dverse.

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

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

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

An Untold Story

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 32; the thirty-second 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 'An Untold Story'

It was a bright sunny day in Kabul and people were moving in and out from the Lagua international airport. People from various parts of the country could be noticed, many tourists from the US and the UK and other countries were prominently identified and distinguished. Sharib too was misrepresented as a tourist.

Sharib a fair, tall medium build gentlemen was among them. His rayban sunglasses were shining in the shady indoors. His muscular build was embellished by the Armani suit and Lee jeans. His hard leather shoes amplified his presence in the airport. Local educated folks have already branded him  as the product of Globalisation

He infact was the product of globalisation..

After depositing his luggage, He moved towards the first level of security. He kept his cell phone, metal belt , wallet and his pen in the basket to go for a separate scrutiny. After getting through with the first tier of security check he went to the immigration counter to get his visa,tickets and passport verified. "Good day Mr Shane,  The US airbus will be leaving in half and hour, have a safe journey" "Thank you " Sharib returned the greeting with the smile.

" Passengers of the US airbus kindly move towards terminal 5" An announcement was made for all the passengers of the US airbus. Sharib kept aside his newspaper and rushed to join the queue. In a hurry, he collided with the janitor and accidently dropped his pen which he rendered with reverence."Aah sir soory, heeere iz your pen" said the janitor in the crude afgani accent. " Ahh thank you" Sharib said grasping for breath and converged towards the queue. While moving, he looked back towards the janitor and threw a wink. The janitor smiled.

Maqbool has never looked more cute in his life.

Sharib moved towards the second security check which was not as rigorous as the first one and basically was a formal frisking cum ticket check. The passengers for the US Airbus waited for the bus which would carry them to the plane. After two minutes, the scheduled  bus arrived. Sharib noticed the bus number and took a heave of relief.

"Shahyara, you are genius" He muttered in his mind.

Sharib took the predetermined seat 34 and quietly grabbed the inkpot placed under the seat. he hid that in his suit. The bus reached the plane and the group of female airhostess greeted them and guided them to their respective seats. 

The plane picked up speed and the the Head airhostess intoduced their group. " Hello this is the maiden flight of the US airbus, we welcome you all to the maiden flight of this airbus. I am the chief airhostess Alena. She is Mayne, Shayara, Megha and Jane, kindlyput on your seat belts. The temperature is 34*c , a liitle turbulance and we are expected to reach New orleans by 2 :30 pm friday. 

Sharib ignored the rest of their ranting and decided to take a nap. he had many sleepless nights before last night. Afternoon nap is always refreshing, he thought.

His nap, took him back to his childhood. His hometown Daslan, a village near baglan. Memories started dancing in his mind.

*******
" Ammi, you work somuch hard each day and still they dont pay you enough, You have burned your hands in their mines, why ammi?"

His ammi a young, emaciated women was employed in the coal mine of a fat American whose aim was to supply coal to the steel factory and earn profits. exploitation became his second name, Poor workers worked under terrible conditions, were paid paltry sum after the long hours of drudgery. His ammi, despite being a women, struggled for her kids. Sharib used to work in the tea stall but their income were sufficient to sustain the family of  4 people. A year later both of his brothers died of malnutrition and his mother suffered a heartstroke. She narrowly escaped death. These incidents were enough to open his eyes and make him realise,something wrong is happening. 

He barged into the room of the american and demanded explaination. The american laughed and decided to teach him few basic concepts of economics. He started " You see you filthy ragamuffin, the system we are living in is capitalist system. Rich people like us, rich nations like us will dominate you, will exploit you, will rob you. we will prosper and you will starve. got it kid. This is the system. now you either work or languish till death just like your brothers."
" Throw him out," the american signalled the guard standing outside and Sharib was thrown out of the office
.

His mother was weak yet she was compelled to work,as the rising debt was taking its toll. His mother collapsed on the very next day and was taken to the private hospital opened in place of the primitive locals owned hospital. The government has allowed foreign investers to invest in infrastructure, as a result, locals owned hospitals got wiped off from the place.
The private hospital refused to admit her. Sharib pleaded, begged but no one listened.
Sharib hurridly rushed to the american who was walking down to his underground office.
He blocked his path, and begged "Huzur, please give me some money, i need it for my mother, she is in the hospital, she needs treatment" 
"Hush, shoo you flithy vermin" berated american
"Huzur please, beat me, abuse me but please give me something"
"Die u lowbreeds" and he kicked the ribs of sharib and pushed him aside. Sharib sat down and started crying.
An old man was observing this scene from a distance.

He approached Sharib " Son are you going to cry or do something"
Sharib rose to his senses. He saw american walking down the staircase. He ran and pushed the american down with full force. The american came tumbling down from the stairs to the solid ground.
" That Har... Used to to talk of systems, now i will push down that system too that system will come down crashing just like this fat american.

His eyes were filled with retribution, flames of hatred fuelled by unexhaustive flow of grief..

Rehman bhai smiled...
********
" Uncle uncle, can you hand me my bag" A little american girl approached him. He woke up from his nap rather abruptly which scared the little girl but his smile of reassurance reassured the girl. He picked up her bag and gave it to her. He was mesimerised by her shining eyes, a cute smile. He gave her a choclate which he bought from the airport. He felt sorry for her but alas. He had to do what he needed to do.

He went to the bathroom, picked up the gasmask from the flush chamber and gently instilled the ink into the pen. He came out of the bathroom.

" Everyone present here good morning, oops sorry bad morning for all of you. I hope you all have had the time of your lives because you wont be having any more moments left with you. Soon you all be dead from this poisonous gas. My pen had the chemical which began reacting with the ink which i have with me. Once i open this cap, the oxygen will reach to the compound and bam... Hahahaha"

The passengers were terrorised, there was clamour and commotion, women were weeping, men were terrified. Airhostess were knocked out cold. All this commotion and pandemonium, Sharib found it amusing
" Why are you trying to kill us all? What wrong have we done? Please spare us" all these questions were thrown to sharib. " Silence everyone, I never had grudge with anybody in this plane nor am i a psyco killer. Here is the little sacrifice which will shake the world system, enlighten the world about the repecussion of neoimperialism. This system will produce many like us and so this is just a small step towards change"

" what change will you bring by killing us all. I am a doctor, its a noble profession, i have healed umpteen patients in my life, what wrong have i done? Why kill the innocent?

" Hahaha nice to know that you are doctor moron, you know what, my mother suffered a stroke and i admitted her in the hospital owned by some american. Doctors refused to treat her, i arranged money from rehman bhai and when i reached there, my mother was lying on the road. LIFELESS! !!"

" Are you going to kill these little children too?, what wrong have they done.? My daughter whom you liked so much will die in any moment. Are you human?"

' Sorry mam but your daughter will have to die too, she is the offspring of this capitalist system, she will grow and become the same exploiter. Its imperative to exterminate children. Maybe the next generation might remember and may turn out somewhat ummm, better, umm nevermind."

"So the bottomline is a little shock can bring down regimes, USSR collapsed by the economic and cultural shock, maybe USA will learn somelesson from the shock which i am goning to give to its citizens"

" Wait, you dont have to do this" said an old man hiding beneath his chair. " I am a journalist at CNN and will publish your story"
" Sorry dude, i will rather have it UNTOLD."

He opens the cap of the pen and the green smoke engulfed the cabinet gently and slowing soaking the life out from old and young alike. Every living creature present now sleeps for eternity as deathgods have their feast.

**********
"Here at CNN live we present you the true story of the monster who caused annaihation of the innocent. Shane Costron aka Sharib was involved in many bloody terrorism acts. A monster from birth. Watch the list of his sinister plans on our show TRUE STORY"

"True Story buh" uttered rehman bhai in the tone of dismissal, " They will never know the true story" he turned off television set and went outdoors to offer a breadloaf to the little boy standing outside his gate.

His eyes were filled with retribution, flames of hatred fuelled by unexhaustive flow of grief..

Rehman bhai smiled..

THE STORY CONTINUES........
.

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: 03