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A rain of blood fell from the sky on a valley

A sixteen year old boy cried in pain when his eyes were hit with pellet bullets

`But why?’ He asked the soldier who shot him

`You sold our country to another country’

`To which country?’ the boy asked with tears of blood

`To Pakistan,’ said the soldier confidently

`And where is that?’ asked the boy

The soldier looked at him, without knowing the answer

`Do not take it personal. I have my orders.’

From Delhi which controls this country.’

`Will your country open your eyes if I go blind?’

`Our vision is different. We wish we could see what you have seen.’

`Of the dead body of my father or the pain of mother for my missing brother?’

`Can I take you to a hospital?’ Asked the confused soldier with concern

`Can they give our freedom back?’

One more shot was heard in the valley

The soldier dropped his gun from his own head

The boy could only smell his blood dripping on his uniform

`Forgive us for our sins,’ the soldier whispered in pain.

`My son is of your age

And your brother was shot by me!’

Drops of blood came from the boy’s eyes.

`I am glad you can not see me dying,’ struggled words came from the dying uniform

`Your eyes will see your freedom soon.

If more like us open our eyes.’

A medal from his uniform merged with the sand

The echoes of his last sigh remained in the valley.

K.P. Sasi is a writer, cartoonist and film maker


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2 Comments

  1. Dr. P. S. Sahni says:

    If I were a kashmiri facing the atrocities on a continuous basis for decades this poem would act as a healing balm; my pain and suffering would be halved .Innumerable articles on kashmir would not provide the succour as much.

  2. Dear Dr. P.S. Sahni. Thank you very much for your kind words. The situation is disturbing for many of us. We can only express through whatever form we can. I do wish, more and more people would express their need for an existence of peace, justice and harmony.