Added on June 12, 2020  Khubaib Mujtaba  Freedom

A Long Awaited Freedom

Khubaib Mujtaba

Let’s march,

break free from the chains of curfew,

till every blood drop falls onto the bloodied streets,

till each breath ceases and

Heaven wakes up to our call.

 

In the crowded lanes of Delhi

I hear the unsung

melodies of emancipation,

Koyal adds to the music of Freedom,

the deadly silence before the

storm alarms

and waves of intifada soar up

to the skies.

 

The frozen hearts witness the death of a

million minds,

like late winter nights swallow the warmth of

life,

Summer stands a witness to the coldness of the world.

Dusk carefully listens to the stories of twilight,

and

In every story the Hero dies

-unremembered.

 

Gloom wails, moon shines, and Yusuf still pleads

for his innocence

and in each Yusuf a generation dies.

Idea is a dynamic that flows

like the gardens of my homeland

where Sufis dance

to ecstasy and each swirl is a wave of revolution

beyond the chains of slavery.

 

Have a look my beloved,

at these unread letters, covered

with dust and blood – narrating the fate

of a wounded Vale beyond those mountains

and beneath this mournful sky.

Sit closer by my side

and feel the numbness,

hear the sobs of my incinerated soul.

Like a brook makes its way

around different rocks,

so shall Kashmir,

and

the whole story shall be narrated to the deaf world.

Look into my tearful eyes,

the lost love won’t return… I await none

of your calls

but a fresh breeze from my homeland.

I see, a thousand miles away,

smoke rises behind the mountains

darkening the whole of earth.

I smell

the aroma of freedom,

the chains broken and the pigeons

return from the cage.

 

Regimes are thorns

and all thorns fall away with time

and nothing is left

to puncture the wings of dove

that flies free

in limitless skies, beyond the horizon.

 

Khubaib Mujtaba is a student of English Literature at University of Delhi and can be mailed at khubaibmujtaba216@gmail.com 

 

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