The sun shines on a land of prodigal people

Not all of them though but still a volume

That can make headlines on television alerts

And as lead stories on newspaper front pages.

I do not know about them who fooled my father

Into moving over to the "Land of the Pure".

Sometimes, we do act like we are tbe masters of our fates

And one man's ambition for his own better luck

Often wrecks the chances of others in his family.

What is pure in the land of the so-called pure?

I would like to be told about just one thing

Not the air or the land, not the hearts of anyone

Calling himself or herself a man or a woman

Everything is polluted and corrupted in this once lush valley

That branched off from the famous mountains of Five Rivers.

You will find no safety of life or property at all

And robbers, rapists, killers will haunt the malls,

To rob you and cheat you with conniving ease

My homeland is infested with despicable fleas.

The mighty ones keep Kashmir divided and spread but grief.

There is no peace in this "kotha-land* of mine

Millions are in buses, trucks and vans,

Trying to denude the beauty of the hills.

O my God Allah! What did my father see here,

Worn-out souls and eyes betraying fear.

No, my God, please! This is not the homeland,

Which Gandhi and Nehru with Jinnah planned.

Author's Notes/Comments: 


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Crystal Sandoval's picture

Enjoyed reading this poem, and the political statement it makes.