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Posts Tagged ‘brutality

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In memory of innocent children of Qandoz Afghanistan who were celebrating their Quran memorization certificates when bombarded and more than 100 children killed and many wounded.

Eyes shed tears to see massacre of angels

Heart deeply hurt seeing blood on angels

The universe jolted hearing by the weeping of angels

Callous offender didn’t feel pity on angels

Quran enriched hearts cruelly massacred

Knoll and land  felt agony on this massacre

Flames burned and disfigured so ruthlessly

Like grass and trash burned by fire cruelly

The bloodbath may stir negligent to stimulate

May Almighty enlighten them to be vigilant

the valiant and promising youth may rise up

Bringing joy to hearts; richness to brighten up

We must now make a move, never to be rueful

Plains or mountains may not hinder or be rueful

O, God the children who were killed in Qandoz

give patience to parents and lighten their grief

May each soul be elevated to crest in heavens

May their thirst be quenched with water of Kauser

This is just poetry, it’s concern for the homeland

Every grief stirs Fareedi to write for homeland

******

آہ قندوز کے شہیدو !

قُندوز ، افغانستان میں دستار بندی کے موقع پر امریکہ کی بمباری سے شہید ہونے والے ننھے حفاظ وقُراء اور انکے لواحقین کو ،،، درد و غم اور آنسوؤں سے بھرا ہوا نذرانۂ عقیدت …..
شاعر: حافظ محمد سلمان رضا صدیقی فریدی مصباحی

پھولوں کا قتل دیکھ کے آنسو نکل پڑے
سینے میں رنج و درد کے چشمے اُبل پڑے
معصوموں کی پکار سے تھرّائ کائنات
بے شرم حاکموں کی جبیں پر، نہ بَل پڑے
قرآں کے حافظوں پہ ہوا اِسطرح ستم
کوہ و دَمَن بھی دیکھ کے جِسکو، دَہل پڑے
شعلوں نے آہ … پھولوں کو ایسے کیا تباہ
جیسے کہ آگ سے خس و خاشاک جَل پڑے
اِس سانحے سے غافِل و بَدمَست جاگ جائیں
یا رب نِـگاہِ قـوم میں نــورِ عمـل پڑے
ہو جِسکی تازگی سے دِل و جاں میں انقلاب
مِلت کے گلستاں میں وہ پھول اور پھل پڑے
معصوموں کا لہو، اے خدا رائگاں نہ جائے
اعدائے دیں کی جانوں پہ بَرقِ اَجَل پڑے
اب ہم نکل کھڑےہوں ، نہ رکنے کے عزم سے
رستےمیں چاہے دشت ہو ، چاہے جَبَل پڑے
قندوز میں خدایا جو بچّے ہوئے شہید
اُن سبکےوالدین کے سینوں میں ” کَل” پڑے
ہر ایک کا ٹھکانہ بہشت بریں میں ہو
انکی زمین پیاس پہ کوثر کا “جَل ” پڑے
یہ شاعری نہیں ہے ، یہ ملت کا درد ہے
ہرغم پہ اے فریدی، قلم کیوں نہ چل پڑے

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Sometimes he looked out of the window at the airplane on the runway or stared at the ceiling of the office where he was. There were three other men besides him in the room. They were wearing uniforms of three different colors. It was obvious that they belonged to different agencies. Awhile later the man in light blue uniform said to him; “if you admit that you are a Pakistani national and sign this paper that says that you are Pakistani; we’ll deport you to Pakistan with a request to the concerned department to treat you humanely”

Turning his face towards the man who asked him to sign the document, he looked at him for some moment and without saying a single word he looked out of the window and at the airplane. The man’s silence provoked the soldier in dark uniform to pull his hair and snarled; “While searching your clothes we found things that prove that you are a Pakistani. You traveled without visa and passport to Iraq and then to Syria. You worked in Syria for an NGO to serve the war stricken people. Both Syria and Iraq has confirmed that you are neither a born Syrian nor Iraqi or Arab. But you are a Pakistani”

The man looked at the man in uniform with any expression on his face and went back to look at the airplane on the runway. The third man fully clad in khaki uniform who was listening quietly lost his temper at last and howling at the man hitting the table said; “Go to hell man! We’re least bothered who you are or where you come from.“Our government doesn’t acknowledge you as an Iraqi or Syrian refugee; you are a Pakistani for sure. We will send you to Pakistan in the air plane you see there on the runway” he then looked at the two officers. Those two men took him to the Immigration Investigation office in hand cuffs then towards the airplane standing on Budapest airport. They handed the man over to the captain of the plane and came back to the same room.

While the plane was waiting to take off, the airhostess brought him a glass of water

The airhostess brought him a glass of water without his asking for it. She kindly said in English to him to drink water. He looked at her gratefully.  She understood his helplessness and heartrending story from his silence. His silence exposed his unaided vulnerability to her. So she assured him more gently that she’ll take care of all the way during this flight from Budapest to Islamabad.

After a while, the plane speedily took off

He was feeling worn out so he closed his eyes and rested his head against back of his seat.  He didn’t know his destination. His thoughts floated same like the plane in the sky. Memories ran on his mind screen one after the other.

Due to bad weather the plane getting imbalanced bound into an air pocket and within no time alleviated again. With the jerk he also emerged from the unfathomable ocean of thoughts. He looked out of the window but there was nothing except sheer darkness.

Rohingya children have been beheaded and civilians burned alive, according to witness testimony amid claims that Burma’s military and paramilitary forces are committing “genocide” or a “pogrom” against the Muslim minority in the country’s western Rakhine state.

 

giving-hands1

I confess I love you, any means to let you know?

I feel I’m imperfect, anyway for aptness knows?

Love, the only salvation for all torment, but alas!

My compassionate belief is, just to be devoted

Madness, now insanity, return to normalcy doable?

Barn on words, lips silent, yet I know few orators

Any way out to realize dreams for unaided soul?

Everyone lost in his utopia, assuming liberated

Heart’s fallacy to be gratis, any way, be truly free?

One is in ardently affectionate, yet loathing reigns

Wish affable love overrules, to show peace reigns

Union and parting soul of love observe me to know

My looks, my idiocy my state, isn’t enough to show?

Silence considered my weakness, people still rate me

What is happening in Ghaza is sheer shame?

Can humanity be more humiliated than this?

All shroud less corpses of patriot cruelly killed ask

O’ humanitarians you are eyewitness of violence

Any defense for this callous act of offensiveness

Alleyway of love and compassion is illuminated

Though it’s thorny to walk on this path however

Humdum, anything more lustrous than my heart

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