A Valley That Bleeds

-
Get hurt every day, bleed everyday
We can’t stay this way, we can’t stay this way.  

I died in December 2019. They took us with them. We got kicked, hit by rods and cables and they electrocuted us. They didn’t want to hear anything; they didn’t say anything. They kept on beating us. They beat every part of our body. When we fainted, they gave us electric shocks to bring us back around. They put mud in our mouths. They used to say, “Don’t scream. Why are you screaming?”. We told them not to beat us. Instead, shoot us. We had a complete lock down for months. Millions of us didn’t have food, clothing. We even had no coffins for our dead ones. 

 They were wearing uniforms on their bodies, helmets on their skulls, shields around them and weapons in their hands. I wondered who the hell they are afraid of? 

 As for me, I belonged to a strange valley, where people’s skins became extraordinary. They had small round patches and scars on them. People said these are injuries from pallet guns and torture but for us it is something we were paying for our freedom. 

I was born in July 1999. The first word I uttered out of my mouth was 'azadi'. My mum told me that our people used to live honorably. People had fair and clear skin, our young ones were blooming peacefully, we used to live in paradise. We were happy with our ruler. Then suddenly, times changed and they changed everything with it. Our paradise got haunted by some sick minded people. Our valley began to demand our blood for its survival, our youth for its well being and our eyes for its freedom. Since then we are living this way. 

 My people have been facing this brutality for years. Our people get hurt every day. They bleed every day. We can’t stay this way. They hunt our mothers and daughters; they injure our youths. This is too much. Every day reporters come to our valley and shoot videos of us. But they all do nothing. We are fighting this battle alone with only stones in our hands. They can injure our bodies but they can’t dare touch our souls.
We Kashmiris were fighting, we are fighting and we will fight till the day we are free.  

By Marzia Ibrahim

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Comprehensive USMLE Guide For Pakistani Medical Students (Part 1: USMLE - An Introduction)

-
Image
USMLE stands for United States Medical Licensing Examination. In order to practice in the U.S., all medical students whether IMGs (international medical graduates) or AMGs (American Medical Graduates) have to give this series of exams. Only then does an international medical graduate become ECFMG certified and legally allowed to practice in the United States. ( ECFMG stands for educational commission for foreign medical students. ECFMG acts as the registration and score-reporting agency for the USMLE for foreign medical students/graduates, or in short, it acts as the designated Dean's office for International Medical Graduates in contrast to the American Medical Graduates). It conducts three examinations: Step 1, Step 2CK, Step 2CS. The ECFMG certificate is issued to a physician if he or she passes the above the three exams within a time period of seven years.) The Following elements are essential in order to secure a residency in the US: Scores Step 1
http://fjjournals.blogspot.com/2017/04/test.html

Reflection of my moon

-
Image
Last night, your faded memory came to me, As in the wilderness, spring comes quietly, As slowly in desert, moves the breeze, As to a sick man, without cause, comes peace! The moon of my night, an oasis for my deserted soul and a heavenly shelter from cold buffets of life, was my mother. It was a scenic day glittering with the serene sunshine in the blue sky. That day, she had completely recovered from the demon of hepatitis. The vivacity of life was sparkling in her eyes. The omen of life had totally exalted her to a novel perseverance. She had grabbed the silky life with her caressing hands. The life to her meant her children. The moon of Ramadan was surely an omen of joy for us. We had scheduled our sister's wedding. In that reference, my father and mother were to leave for another city. I bade them farewell under God's heaven and saw them off. "Life is going to be beautiful," I smiled to myself and went to the bed. Suddenly at midnight, violent knocking at
http://fjjournals.blogspot.com/2017/04/test.html
-
Image
آ دکھاؤں تجھے چیخوں کا خاموشی سے نکلنا، پھر مر جانا۔۔                                                                           زندگی میں جہاں خوشیوں پر رقص ہوتا ہے، وہیں غم و ماتم کا عکس بھی ہوتا ہے، آسانیاں آتیں ہیں مگر مشکلات کے ساتھ۔۔ بعض دفعہ مشکل  نہیں لگتا خود کو درد سے نکال لینا، اذیتوں کے سمندر کی گہرائی میں ڈوب کر کنارے تک ابھرنا اور یہ ثابت کر دینا کہ اگر درد میں دم ہے تو ہم بھی کم نہیں۔۔ مگر ہاں ہر بار، ہر جگہ، ہر کسی کے ساتھ ایسا نہیں ہوتا، جب درد انسان کو کرچی کرچی کردینا چاہے اور سمیٹنے کو شیشہ گر بھی نہ ہو کہ کرچیاں ہی سمیٹ لے، جب ماضی، کسی کے حال اور مستقبل کو اس طرح گھیر لے کہ جینا اور مرنا ایک سا ہو جائے، جب وقت کے جزیرے پر کھڑی، سفید خوبصورت گھوڑے پر آنے والے شہزادے کی منتظر شہزادیاں  مایوسی کی دلدل میں دم توڑنے لگیں، تب درد ، درد نہیں رہتا، "چیخ" بن کر  نکلتا ہے،  گونجتا ہے ، دھاڑتا ہے، سننے والوں کے دلوں کو لرزاتا ہے، دلوں کو موم کرتا ہے  اور پھر کہیں فضاؤں میں تحلیل ہوجاتا ہے۔۔ ایسا درد تو  کسی "بلند چیخ " کا لبادہ اوڑھے راستوں کو ف
http://fjjournals.blogspot.com/2017/04/test.html