The Silent Grin

"The Silent Grin"

Looked down I,

Smiled to myself,

Passed over.

I'm not sure if you,

Caught that glimpse

Of my silent grin

That I tried to shield.

Though I carried along me,

Those moments when I feel,

A strong affection and glee,

Of unspoken words,

Still perceived.

Your stilly gaze,

As I tried,

To do the same.

I nabbed you and

You Copped me

The language you speek,

As I flee,

Never say a word

But your eyes can't lie,

Says it all to me.

Why This Silence?

                                                               

"WHY THIS SILENCE?"

Why this silence?
 Speak up!

How long will you sit up?

Raise your voice,

Move your tongue.

Say something,

Stop this thing.

My heart burns,

My soul cries.

I can't see this country frying.

If you feel the same,

Then why so quiet?

Speak up my friends! 

Speak up!

There is no chance for silence

How long will be this fire?

If you won't do it.....

I won't do it....

Who will do it?

Answer me why this silence?

Can you let the men die?

And these children cry?

Can you leave the woman dry,
Right at the peak of their youthful time?

If no, then speak up,
 Why so silent?

Move on, my friends,
 Move on!

Don't watch it happen,
 Rise up!

You know, you can do it

Then why so quiet?

Don't let them die,

Don't let them cry.

Stand up my friends,

Hand in hand.

You are so strong,

You have this thing

Don't be so quiet,

Break this silence.

You can do this,

You will do it.

No fear my friends,

You can move it.

My last words,

You'll win it.

You will shine up,

Just get the passion on!

On Your Departure

"On Your Departure"

                                             

                                                                    

I was looking for you
Far in the mountains,
My eyes were in search,
When you were falling
Behind the scenery.
Darkening my world
On your departure,
Deep in the valley.




As, you were sagging down,
Shadows conquered all my towns.
Your rays when blocked by the peaks,
All light faded away along with peace.




All the greenery, all the beauty,
Disappeared so quietly
In the murky, gloomy
Dusk, when you said,
"Now, I shall leave. "




I am still looking for you
O Sun! In the mountains,
For, you may rise again,
Somewhere behind the seen.
As, all is foggy
In the city
On your departure.

A Pen Dipped in Blood

"A Pen Dipped in Blood"

When I shoved the door open
and entered my school,
found my pen resting on the floor,
soused in the blood
of a chap.



The cover of the pen
was still in my hand,
my body lain dead
in the hallway with
many other lads.



I leaned forward,
picked up the pen,
stained with blood.
I jolted it to write,
of what we have been
through, but the ink was faint.
So, I dipped the pen
in the blood
spilt, all over the place,
of all the young- mates.



For, only the blood can narrate
the story of the bloodshed.
As this is not an ordinary tale,
to be indited with some common ink.



I filled pages after pages,
to quickly scrabble
the horrific game,
with the blood filled
in my pen.



I could hear the voices
of all the soul-mates,
calling me up,
to leave with them,
since, I was LATE.



I put the pen
at the same place.
I flew with everyone else
to the heaven in the firmament.



Indeed, my body
will fade away.
Rather, the story,
noted in the pages of history,
written with my blood,
shall never be forgotten.

                     

The Fragrance is Still in the Air

"The fragrance is still in the air"

December is considered to be one of the most romantic and awaited month of the year. When winter is on its peak, snow have covered every tree, Christmas is on the wheel and New Year has charged everyone with the zeal and I must not forget the birthday of our Quaid, Muhammed Ali.

This month maybe important for others but it brings a lot of excitement for the children when they have their winter vacations just in the right time. All set and packed up to spend the vacations in their favorite hill stations and enjoy the snow fall. Even this year, the plan was somewhat the same when the school children went to school just like a regular day in the hope to kill the day faster so that vacations can come close sooner. As this was the last working week and all academic institutions were supposed to be closed from the next week. Everyone was very excited; they all went to school happily but then, what happens?

They were butchered, killed, shot to death. Some were slaughtered, others were blasted, for real, some of them were found with fingers being cut out brutally and feet separated more than an animal. Some were shot in the ears; some got murdered while running for their lives and most of them got killed when they were studying in the classrooms. Though, all in all were bumped off in cold blood just for the reason that they didn't do anything, just because, the schoolboys were little innocent angels who were armless and harmless. Just because their fathers were fighting the battles against the evil and they were studying here, just because, the kids themselves didn't do anything. So that is the reason for which they were slaughtered.

Even, killing or slaughtering of animals has sound rules in Islam if they think they did it for Islam. Rather, the birds and fish are said, not to be haunted in the days of their procreation because they have their younglings and they'll be left alone. Just think about it, indeed, Allah almighty took care of the younglings of the animals. Although, the wild most animals are not killed the way they pieced our beautiful children, our handsome young boys exactly on the verge of their youthful spring. Just, I mean like, just look at those stylish, fashionable, good looking teens who thought of themselves as the heroes of the future and compared themselves with all the popular film-woods of the world; were so excruciatingly chopped by those barbaric hands. Why? What for? Why did they? Answer! No..., they have no answer. They can't answer it. They might not even know the answer themselves.

Many young little ones were running here and there for their lives, including those who surely didn’t know what a gun might be. In fact, the worst of the enemies are not killed this way. They talk about Islam; in truth, Islam doesn't allow the murder of the child of the cruel most enemy. Oh, they were little angels living in the fantasies of their own and worries of their own. Some of them might have thought to be the Superman, while others were impressed with Spiderman. Some were stuck in Mathematics and some were collecting the beads to make the chains of chemistry. The grownups were in the race to be the future doctors and engineers. Many dreams and many stars are murdered. Our future is ripped off. So much talented lads are taken away. The more we talk about it, the lesser it seems. Nevertheless, today we are still in the trauma, we can't get out of it. Many sleepless nights are passed, with the pictures of the kids saved in the eyes. Now, after some time when we have started sleeping, we see them in our dreams as nightmares. We dream of the butchery at night. I take pity on Pakistani nation who instead of dreaming about their fantasies at night, dream of the nightmares that they would never like to dream about. We dream of the bairns who lie dead, showered in their own red; we see those inhuman barbarians who bloodbath our delicate buds. We see all what happened and what we have heard about, practically at night.

No my dear kids nooo.....! You are not forgotten. You are still in our dreams, in our eyes and our minds. We might have restarted living but our hearts are with you and our minds thinking about you. Your fragrance is still in the air, it’s there. Your sacrifice for the nation is not so feeble to be forgotten so easily. You are still in the air! The air is filled with the fragrance of your blood.

                                     


                   

An Angel Named Moses

"An Angel Named Moses"

An angel named Mosses
was born to us.
He was precious in every sense,
as, he was the only one.
We named him after
a prophet of the earth.



We kept him from
all the storms
that he faced.
Many a times the Angel of Death,
tried to take him out of us,
we would snatch him out again.



Once before, we rescued him
from the darker face,
of the scary whole-gale,
who carried him all away.



Even, the sharpen nails of
the gory flood, once attacked,
tried to drown him inside it.
Though, we sailed quickly in
the boat of prayers,
brought him up, out again.



In the end a message came.
It said,
"No matter what,
O my men!
An angel is never
meant to live
among you human beings. "



The very next day,
the angel named Mosses
flew far away.

                            

                     

The Innocent Faces

“THE INNOCENT FACES”

The innocence on their faces could never be forgotten by our minds. The grieving and longing eyes of their mothers and desperate efforts to catch the sight of their lovely ones would never be appeased. They have taken the chairs in paradise but we as a nation has lost in darkness because of the ferocity of barbarians and apathy towards their security on our side.  Ferocity turned the smile on their faces into fright when raised their hands in horror and wilderness on the demand. Imagining their sporadic crying, running, falling, escaping for survival, when they always looked for warmth of their mothers’ hug, whenever they felt insecure or hurt a little was nowhere. They were vulnerable target of the ferocious attackers and no place for survival have torn my heart into pieces and have perforated my soul. Since that day, I see their faces all the time, my grief sees no limit. I know that they are happy in the heaven but what about me? The scar on my mind has taken me to the desert of grief and driven my sleep off, where I’m lost. In fact, I no more have any interest in worldly luxuries and feel no happiness. I cannot forget you, the little flowers of my garden. My happiness was because of you, my heart was beating because of you,  you were the  source of brightness in my eyes, now like a blind man and deepened eyes, I just find darkness everywhere around me. I have no reason to console myself; I’m embarrassed of myself that I couldn’t help you. I wish, if I could be instead of you in those horrific, blood-curdling and precarious moments and could stop that savagery to see you alive and happy. I wish, if I was instead of you ------ instead of you ------.   

How lamentable it is! When I visualize that your mothers must have been putting your rumpled beds and rooms into  order, where you had scattered your things, with the idea that you would come back  home and must have been about to prepare your lunch and other energetic drinks so that you would be served, after you being languished by curriculum activities . Though, they did not know that the deep rooted hatred had come into contact with the innocence. Your shoes, uniforms and your bags have been bedraggled with your sacred blood, while all these loved to be dusty and smudged with inks of your pens. 

While visualizing some of you playing, laughing and up-roaring, your noisy celebrations in the premises of school, some of you chatting with each other, some of you busy in jumbling and rumpling and some of you engrossed in studying at desks; your mischievous but lucid eyes, your frivolous activities sometimes in classrooms, twisted expressions on your faces after being admonished or punished a little. The naivety on colorful charts pasted on classrooms walls being used of dandling you, of your nugatory activities, of your small but heart- touching demands, of your hands and uniforms smeared with ink and your willy-nilly walk to school, all have turned our eyes wistful and engraved in our minds.

  Let me verbalize, when trees would start dancing to see your scampering and romping about under their shades, the leaves would start tinkling and jingling after being hit by your voices, the colorful flowers would start blossoming and would sprinkle fragrance over you, and in return would absorb innocence and daintiness after being touched and caught by your sight; are now gloomy, mortified, sad and broken by this wide-spread mortality and will surely deplore when won’t find you among the survived ones.

The roofs of your classrooms, always in habit of being proud of your ambitions, didn’t know that one day would see you taking your last breath mercilessly. The rampaged and perforated school where you would learn your lessons with curiosity would become a butcher house. The doors and windows, which you used for your classrooms were the last remedy of your survival and would become walls of martyrs. Your playground, in which you played, which would lighten up its burden and feel relaxation, now is hard-pressed with this heinous act of genocide.  

Daring-do of the exalted ones, laid their lives for dear ones and added another chapter of chivalry and virility in their profession, they sanctified their blood and are successful before their lord. But what about us! We are in great torment.

Tocsin has rung and we are like travelers in a desert, who receive smacks of slashing heat and sands in eyes but with holding their flag and bound to reach the destination in sandy storm by all means. 

                             

                                                

                 Written By: SaifullAh Afridi