This poem was written as originally I was writing the slogans for the demo on Sunday. As i went through the whole metamorphsis, this poem was being formed in my mind regarding Dr Aafia, Amina Masood’s husband’s and all the other missing people. Also added all those issues which we are surrounded with.

We want answers
Pakistan and its people
Where are those souls?
The missing people
Dr Aafia, Amina’s husband
Where are they all?
Only in echoes and memories
The missing souls
Abducted and tortured
Through years of absence
From their homes and loved ones
Through years of solitude
In distant lands, in distant hands
For crimes not proven
For games, not ours
In our names, for your gains
We want answers
Pakistan and its people

We Want Answers
Pakistan and its people
To all what you have done
To all what you have destroyed
In our names, for your gains
We want answers
Pakistan and its people

We want to hear
The truth and justice
For all what you have taken
From our lands and taxes
In our names, for your gains
We want answers
Pakistan and its people

We want answers
From all what you have taken
From our banks and resources
From all the loot and plunders
In our names, for your gains
We want answers
Pakistan and its people

We want answers
To the crumbling infrastructure
The roads, rails and transport
The deteriorating systems
Health and education and your policies
In our names, for your gains
We want answers
Pakistan and its people

We want answers
Pakistan and its people
What you have done
In our names, for your gains
To PIA and Steel Mill
What you have done
About electricity and flour crisis
What you have done
About sugar crisis and death all around
In our names, for your gains
We want answers
We want action
Pakistan and its people

We want answers
For all your lies
In our names, for your gains
For all your promises
For 62 years of invasion
By your greed and plunder
We want answers
Pakistan and its people

We want answers
Pakistan and its people
How you destroyed us
Our dignity and our soul
For all your promises
For all your lies
In our names, for your gains
We want answers
We want action
Pakistan and its people!

Kashkin

In old pages and pictures of my existence
Lurks somewhere, the old tales of purity
The river that flows across those valleys
Where I once grew up in protection

Through its peace and tranquillity
The old valleys, sheltered in my books
Stand there by its side, from years of travel
Stand there by its side, the old monuments
The old stories of blunder and danger

Travels with me the people of that land,
Strange and few, the beauty and its demise
As I breathe that air from years of distance
As I grow old, with memories of separation

Never there dwells darkness only the light
The silence in that land, where once fairies grew
So I thought as my desire to grow old embolden
Walk as I towards those places, in hesitation

Will I find what I left behind?
Will it find me as I move away from its tranquillity?
The old lake saif-ul-malook and its serenity
As Indus snares in its awake, all that arrives

The old imprints within my mind, as I travel
From footsteps of Kashmir to Sindh,
To meet its creators, to meet the creation
The adventures of distant times of nature and mankind!

Kashkin

In the bars of Havana, let’s sit down together
Let’s stumble upon conversation of new dimensions
Let’s go fly fishing, in the deep blue ocean
Where once characters were drawn
The old sketch book and its torn pages
Let’s see it ourselves again, through antiquity

Echoes that are drawn out from that stillness
Inside you, the celestial objects, as I turn to look
As dolphins follow the human touch, amidst that chaos
As tales of laughter and journeys return to paper
Relief from the episodes of madness, the momentarily bliss
The old sketch book and its torn pages,
Let’s see it ourselves again, through antiquity

As I make notes in haste, as I write on yellow sheets
All that destruction that the mind has created
The old relationship of the intellect and reasons
As the old butterflies find refuge in metaphors of deserts
The masses on the move, stories of revival and its spirit
As moons follow us in its stupor, as I walk out in Havana

Let’s roar ourselves into these deep blue oceans
Let’s speak of the world and its clocks in between
The beautiful faces entombed in its own reflections
In bars of Havana, let’s sit down together
You catch and I watch, through spider’s web
The old moons and the world in between
The old dust as the characters begin to born
Let’s see it ourselves again, through antiquity
Stands there alone, with all the stories of time
In the bars of Havana, as I watch the distant moon
From the days of the desert to the eternal times
Through spider’s web, for momentarily bliss!

Kashkin

I received this poem in one of the Email FWD.It is in Urdu titled ” Baba, Mujhko Dar Lugta Hai”…Its a beautiful poem- a poem to reflect how children see the situation around them and how these children willing to trade in their presents to avoid this danger.

I wanted to keep the originality of the poem in translation. So its a very simple translation. I did add two lines in the end. Once you have read the Urdu version, you will know where I made the addition in its English version.

Baba,
My teacher informs me
All children to remain
At home, and study there!

Baba
I have heard
A monster of a man
With black moustache
Will explode the bomb here
All children will die!!

Baba,
Why are they going to kill us?
What is our mistake?
Why angry they are with us?

Baba,
Shall I give him my doll?
Or all my rainbow colours from the blue box
The one I received from you, the present
On my last birthday

Or my hair band, the beautiful one
Imbued in red, with butterflies
Shall I give him that one as well!
Will that be enough for this man?
Not to kill us

Remember Baba, my hands,
The old injury, once
The excruciating pain
As little blood flowed through
Torrents of rain in my eyes

What is this bomb like?
Will the damage be huge?
Will it hurt more?
I guess the pain will be more
Baba, will I be there to cry for
My own pain or will you?
Baba, fearful I am of this monster!

Kashkin

Wrapped up
In delicacies and intricacies of life –
As the morning mist clears
Whatever thrown at me,
At us as a nation.
Every day I die,
Every day I born
Amidst all this terror and turmoil,
As the blissful peace shatters
As this trail follows me
Into deep sinking sadness,
As I awake from my slumber,
With renewed spirit to fight
With all I have at my disposal,
With all whom have plundered
In all those moments,
Drawn and extended,
As history recalls,
As I remain indifferent to myself,
As I remain in madness
For something so dear and precious,
As I ask questions
To the very existence and purpose,
As I find answers within myself,
All that is there
Through centuries of its reminders,
All what has been given,
The years it took to create this land,
The years it took to destroy,
All I see with my eyes,
As I pick up my pieces,
In places
Where we once worshipped and learnt,
In places where once peace was,
As I pick up dead and injured
Missing hands and faces,
Through the rubble of our times
As I remind myself,
All will change, there be light,
As I see in frenzy, my reflections,
My being,
As I see those messiahs and monsters,
In our land, without light and wisdom,
As I break free in my sight,
As I see them dance,
In silence of the music,
All there was once,
As these feuds bring home,
The truth, the change,
Remain in questions my being;
What purpose will I serve?
All those moments of history,
In questions, from Iqbal to Jinnah,
As I float through this landscape
My home and land,
My peace and my solace
My corners and quarters
My sanity and happiness
It’s all I desire,
It’s all I seek,
Options not many but only two-
Give it or we will take it
Our rights, our moments of future
As million voices explode into ecstasy!

Kashkin

My interview on Venus TV discussing Pakistan and its turmoil

Badalti Seyasat – 15th October 2009 Asim Khan from PTI and G.M Khan PTI in fresh episode of Badalti Seyasat with Dr Zia Samadani.

http://ptiuk.org/blog/badalti-seyasat-asim-khanpti–15th-october-2009-p186.html

Kashkin

This poem was written as a ” colloborative” effort by myself and young PTI activist Furqan Nadeem. All the credit goes to him for all the effects and initial work.

Kashkin

Do we need?
The Prime Minister House
The President’s palace
The great old parliament
The Muppets of our bureaucracy
The old feudal lords,
And the thousands acres
The old hands of dictators
And the warmth of lies
From the leaders of our present

Do we need?
The ruins of our existence
From one crisis to another
In the land enriched in its soil
From the fertile plains of Indus
To the rivers of the north
The old seasons of harvest
In the mockery of our times
From the creation of promise
To the hardened crimes of our elite

Do we need?
The remembrance of our times
From the questions of the youth
To the analysts of the past
The words in abundance
The absence of action and work
Delivered for the benefits of our hearts
The rotten souls and their dreams

Do we need?
The education and our health
The dream of our existence
Or the reliance on the west,
From its mercenaries to its aids
The disease, inhabited in our land
The crisis of the times, our lives engulfed

Do we need?
The question on their lips
The hatred in their hearts
As they died in the stampede
Of our failures and demise!

Kashkin

There remains a mystery to our questions
Of who we are and where we belong
Of all our quests and questions,
The miracles we perform through science
Through words of literature and philosophy
Through years of humanity and its demise
As we ponder in silence and as we reach out
There remains a spectacle, far from our wisdom
The mankind only to serve, the purpose
Of the creation and of our Creator
How we live and serve, how we kill and maim
In the name of humanity, in the name of religion
The stars are so distant, never will we know
In this lifetime, only our souls, travelers of light
To experience, through moments of infinity
The stars are so distant, as the mist draws its curtains!

Kashkin

They say inspire us, will you hear them?
Will you travel with the wind and the moon?
Where dreams are high as the minarets
As the sky opens up where the eagles fly
Near the old ruins, where rivers flow

Help us and we will lend you all you need
Let that spirit of ours be yours for a change
Feel how is to live with days and nights
As we extend, as we move, for oasis unknown

As our hearts filled with pride, in broken light
From the promise of youth to the wisdom of time
Remain where you are, where nothing will change
If we are the nation, then where will you find
Us, near you or far apart in deserts remains
Feel that pulse, as the clock ticks away
In those hours, in that distance, in that silence

Will we ever hear words, – those words of comfort
Of change from you, near you we remain
So far apart, as our souls collide, in fury
All we have is ourselves, these days and nights
We are still humans, the last of the fire
There you will find us, perhaps in distant time

The screams are all gone, only the empty looks
As the rivers run dry, as our fate collides
Will you return to us what belongs to us?
The promise of the pride and the light to lit
The old caravans of light with the moon!

Kashkin