Tag: Death


  • Letter to a Dead Poet

    Dear Nemesis? Dear Arch-enemy? Poet? Disaster? Dear Poet- the one who is worth two poets after death – deader the better. -April 14th, 2020 Dear dead Poet,             Poets love to romance with suicide, the idea of suicide- not the action. They invent themselves in this conjecture. They are in a constant state of anticipation…

  • The durood were heard from both the local and distant mosques. It sounded as a viscous amalgam of voices to me, in which, if listened with the ears of heart, one could quickly lose himself. It was strange how it awoke me, even though it had never done before. I went to the kitchen where…

  • My country still churns poetry out of mutilated migrant labourers.The skeletal remnants of a metropolitan do not stir the nationโ€™s conscience.Death lies snuggled in the palms of my state,destruction kneaded on the cold skies.Humans lie like scattered petals on roads and roofs.Artistic stimulation for some.Ghost buildings are standing like cardboard boxes,perforated by the needles of…

  • Dear Father, Whenever I have recollected about you, my heart has burst into an impending longing, my eyes deluged in clueless tears and my face sank in familiar grief. Never ever has your persona visited my memory with joy, maybe this inevitable tragedy befalls every mortal; memories cannot be separated from nostalgiaโ€”a reluctant feeling to…

  • On the bulge of Amira Kadal, I stare at the fish in their basket, murmuring between themselves about their estrangement from the Jhelum that flows underneath, belligerently. Or, maybe, they are just gasping for a few extra breathsโ€” as many as they canโ€” before it is all over; as all of us try to do…

  • Zendburgh Zevane is buried under a three-inch-thick sheet of fluffy white snow; it is snowing hard and silence weighs down the air, save few faint and intermittent dog barks. A rigid tall man scurries through the Thallstreet, crackling the snow beneath his feet, making the sound akin to a mouth chewing on a thousand grains…

  • I am coming for you, riding on this black stallion, in this moonlit night, and I am wandering at the hill, just a few gallops shy from your resort. Do you remember that cursed night, when I beheld you on the furthest of the churchyards, on the bleakest of nights when the wolves howled and…

  • A Fairy Tale

    ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  This story cannot start with โ€œOnce upon a timeโ€. Some stories, you must understand, do not have a beginning. You just walk into them as you walk into a dream; at an arbitrary point in time and space. As you have walked into this one. And the first thing you see is a Chinar…