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1 Army Man Killed, 4 Injured in Shopian Encounter - Saturday, 12 August 2017 16:16
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60 Students Fuelled the Students Uprising on 2017, Says NIA - Thursday, 28 September 2017 06:29
9000 Injured after the Killing of Burhan Wani - Friday, 12 January 2018 10:29
A Hindu can never be a Terrorist - Thursday, 22 June 2017 11:26
Abu Dujana had become a nuisance for Girls - Tuesday, 01 August 2017 08:00
Adil was never associated to Hizb - Wednesday, 20 September 2017 13:34
Al Qaeda in Kashmir is only a conspiracy - Thursday, 27 July 2017 13:49
All Militants will be killed before this winter - Wednesday, 31 May 2017 03:29
Amarnath Attack case Solved - Sunday, 06 August 2017 10:41
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A Letter to Kashmir from Heavens Featured

September 22

 

(This Fictitious work was originally written and published in 2013)

 

Yunhi Hamesha Ulajti Rahi hai Zulm se Khalq,

Na Unki Rasm nayi hai, na Apni Reet nayi.

Yunhi hamesha khilaye hain humne aag mein phool

Na unki haar nayi hai, na apni jeet nayi.

 

Thus always has the world grappled with tyranny

Neither their rituals nor our rebellion is new

Thus have we always grown flowers in fire

Neither their defeat, nor our final victory, is new!

 

 

My patriots

Hope you still remember me and did not forget my sacrifice like Aasiya and Nelofar or Like Milaad, the 11 Year old kid.  

As soon as I was hit with a bullet in Southern Kashmir, I clogged my eyes, unwrapped them back to just notice myself in a strange land. It was a blissful morning that greeted me with white scattered flowers all over the ground, besides the perfect road a Gushing waterfall, the melody was delightful. The drops of dew fell on my cheeks, on my forehead and the lush green trees spread their arms to embrace me.

I walked a few steps to observe thousands of people looking at me. As I marched closer, the faces appeared recognizable, roughly each and every one of them. But I could not see properly, because while they shot me, my glasses fell down, and they broke into pieces. But I could feel, the faces were full of NOOR (Shine). All these men and women were positioned by the side of the corridor I was walking on. All the men, women and young children were smiling and shaking hands with me. All the faces looked joyous, Free from fear, free from concern, worries and Distress. Then a man known as ‘Sun of Freedom Struggle’, opened his Arms and kissed me on my forehead.

He said “Welcome Brother, Welcome to the Paradise”. He asked me how his Nation was. He enquired about the people of the Nation. He said do people still will to die for the cause of Liberation? Are children still orphaned and women widowed? He asked me if the land is still soaked with the blood of innocents. “Does the innocent blood still fall on the ground? Do the tears of mother still fall down for their bread earning sons? Do Sisters still await their brothers for getting married?

With tears in his eyes, he said he wishes to be born again so that he may sacrifice his life again for the cause of liberation and achieve martyrdom once again.

Aasiya and Nilofar, accompanied by hundreds of Kashmiri women showered flower petals on me.

Tufail Ahmed Matoo looked at me from a distance. I went close to him and hugged him. Tufail said he was not a criminal, he was just passing by, back from tuition when he was targeted by a tear smoke shell which hit him on his head and he fell down and chaos spread. He said he was craving for water, a drop, but all watched him lying down there. Nobody ready to offer a helping hand, he said he lay in the pool of blood, wanting to see his mother for one last time, meet his sisters, go around and play with them one last time, but blood, the blood was oozing from his mouth. He said, “Considering the action around me -- people shrieking and running, gunfire echoing in the street -- there was no reason to believe an errant pebble, some random fragment of pavement, was the cause of my shock. I reluctantly accepted that I must have been shot.

 

Then I fainted. Instead of pain, I remember thinking, "This is it. I'm about to die."

He said he wished to see the resisting streets of Kashmir again. I conversed with many men and women, all of them craved to be born again, not for the reason that they wanted to live, but they wanted to die again for their cause, for their motherland.

Near the gate of my palace I saw a young boy, Sameer Ahmed Rah who was beaten to death. Narrating his journey from the world to heaven he said, he was beaten mercilessly by Troops. “Even after I was beaten to death, the boys lifting my coffin on their shoulders were not spared, my corpse as beaten again.”

A Tearful Sameer said, He said he loves everything about the Paradise but he misses his Mother a lot. He desires to see his mother and father just once. I entered my palace and writing to you now. He told me of his childhood when he went to the nearby pond to swim, to break apples from the nearby orchard. He and his friends secretly went to fields nearby without informing their parents.

 

I have landed in a safe Place and now the nation is yours and to keep it safe is your job.

 

 

Khudayas Hawaal

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