Published On:Saturday, 8 November 2014
THE KILLERS ADMITTED HAVING KILLED THE KILLED...!
(A poem by Mohammad Ulfat Anjan about the killings ,disappearances,imprisonments etc.in kashmir.Army has first time admitted to have made a mistake in killing two Budgam youth)
The Killers admitted having killed the killed ,
And thus made known their crime so wild;
But hundreds of cases await justice here,
And no one cares for the sake of the chair...
Where is the judge selling justice free?
Where is the land ,where the city?
Here all are thieves —the judge and the lawyer ,
Burning dear justice on a blood sucking pyre.
Politics. is played with pure human lives ,
Like carrots they are cut with blood smeared knives.
As potatoes to cooks ,we are to the powers ,
They cut us to take baths in pure blood showers;
They get an opportunity and use wicked gun ,
And enjoy the sport with unlimited fun.
Some are yet to be traced and known,
None to them any sympathy has shown;
Their dear ones wait for justice in vain ,
With patience they hide their infinite pain.
The cases of disappearance have gathered now dust,
The law has lost all its validity and trust;
Some languishing in jails counting last days,
They have missed countless Aprils and Mays;
Waiting that someone would come some day ,
And put an end to their gruesome play.
But that someone only appears in a dream ,
And no ray of hope in darkness does seem.
Thousands of such tales there are to tell ,
Waiting for narrations in the bosom of this hell ;
Oh kashmir is bleeding ,and i bleed too ,
But chained are my hands what shall i do ?
But trust in Allah never goes in vain ,
This is the only relief to my pain....!
The Killers admitted having killed the killed ,
And thus made known their crime so wild;
But hundreds of cases await justice here,
And no one cares for the sake of the chair...
Where is the judge selling justice free?
Where is the land ,where the city?
Here all are thieves —the judge and the lawyer ,
Burning dear justice on a blood sucking pyre.
Politics. is played with pure human lives ,
Like carrots they are cut with blood smeared knives.
As potatoes to cooks ,we are to the powers ,
They cut us to take baths in pure blood showers;
They get an opportunity and use wicked gun ,
And enjoy the sport with unlimited fun.
Some are yet to be traced and known,
None to them any sympathy has shown;
Their dear ones wait for justice in vain ,
With patience they hide their infinite pain.
The cases of disappearance have gathered now dust,
The law has lost all its validity and trust;
Some languishing in jails counting last days,
They have missed countless Aprils and Mays;
Waiting that someone would come some day ,
And put an end to their gruesome play.
But that someone only appears in a dream ,
And no ray of hope in darkness does seem.
Thousands of such tales there are to tell ,
Waiting for narrations in the bosom of this hell ;
Oh kashmir is bleeding ,and i bleed too ,
But chained are my hands what shall i do ?
But trust in Allah never goes in vain ,
This is the only relief to my pain....!
