'A trampled Snow '

A break from the usual,

We flew across mountains,

Behold we Mustard Flowers,

Each Yellow Petal simmering

Radiance-A Heavenly Delight

Me, my friend and my Vale

A perfect a triad can get…



And while we strolled across

An old dusty road roughed up

In a green pasture, we saw,

An Army convoy approaching,

"Welcome to my Vale, my friend"

I said with my heart pounding fear.



A viscous circle of sorts,

What sort of Relativity was that?

Then, when the Army was only few yards away from us,

My Mind was already making rounds.

I was there and I was not there,

Time seemed meaningless for me…



Far from that scary moment,

I saw myself guiding my friend

To an uphill Mosque…

Knowing well

That he is a Hindu by Faith

Or may be Hindu by name only,

Since "He doesn't pray to Stones"

As he would confess…



And while we journeyed uphill

It was already winter, snowing,

Some mud ridden footprints

Had trampled some fresh snow.

Close to the main gate of a Big Mosque,

A furore had befallen the nearby Graveyard…



It was hard to distinguish

The color of Snow

From the color of the Beard

Of innocent looking old men

Busy mourning the death of a young man.









"While I perform my Ablution,

Stick around on the 'Hamm am'"

I said to my friend.

I don't remember now,

If I offered Salah, Namaz, I mean,

But I do remember the look,

The look of Intrigue on my friend,

"Who are they mourning?

Who is dead?" he whispered to me.



Gripping each others fist,

We marched towards the burial site,

A lot of pushing and pulling,

We even didn't had the chance

To make out hues of the shroud,

But for the chanting Verses,

"La Illaha Illallah, La Illaha Ilallah…"



Unbeknown, The Army jeeps

Were standing around us.

The first bend of the dusty road

Got lost in woodlands,

From where we heard people yelling,

"Run from there, run, run, run…"



Time was Relative for me, I swear.

There was no winter but summer,

There was no snow but mustard,

No Mosque, No Ablution, Nothing

But my Friend,

Sitting besides me, weeping,

In desperation, not knowing

What to do with my dead body!



I was killed by the Army…

I had seen my Burial,

I had seen my Grave…

(by Suhail Akram)