The Elegy of a Martyr

I
My world has died
And, I write to mourn its passing
A world – maimed and mangled, with deep scars of abhorrence
Sinking into anonymity
But did it deserve to die?
Did it deserve to be disremembered?

II
The dewy path to Paradise
Drowned in crimson mist and purple smoke
Shadows of living dead walking by
The chaotic madness of violence and intoxicating silence
Treacherous pages of history gnaws deep into my virgin soul
And, I ask, “Kashmir, whose land is it anyway?”

III
Orphaned in childhood, a Jihadi in youth
Inglorious temptation of martyrdom blinds my vision
My mutilated conscience wages a helpless war against the deceitful mind
As I stand vanquished, singing the sinful melody of conspiring fate
With a gun to my head, I slowly trace the retreating steps
The trigger is pulled…..Freedom at last and an ocean of silence


“My world has died/And I write to mourn its passing” ~ taken from Arundhati Ray’s The Algebra of Infinite Injustice