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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