All Bare

To the boy who bathed in the manhole



Not a stitch to hinder me.
Not a care but the rumble in my stomach
I dive into heaven
Bliss and nothing more
The stink invades my thoughts
Mouth shut, eyes clamped
Ground touches my toes

Cool after the burning
As though banished from hell
Sunlight beckons, breath runs thin
I must reappear
Must head back to the burning
Pushing with my feet
Reaching and breaking through paradise

Brother hauls me out
There is room only for one
In the hole that leads to heaven
But smells like hell
The pavement feels sharp
It pricks a thousand times
Into the soles of my feet
As I run to mother
To eat from the bag
Someone's meal from a few days

44 days without you

To the children we lost on 16-12-14


I eat and sleep and pray,
Like I did everyday,
But I have not breathed properly,
Not since you went away,

The air seems thin and vile,
I cannot fill my lungs,
There are thorns behind my eyes,
Since the day you went away.

I bathed you and fed you and held you,
Each day that you were near,
But now my days are empty,
Please come home my dear.

I still remember the first time I kissed your angel feathers,
The day I had delivered you,
With pain, and strength and tears.

I wander to your bed,
I touch your pillow daily,
Can you feel my hands in heaven?
Running through your hair?

Your father always felt left out,
Ever since you came in our lives,
He has all my attention now,
But he doesn't seem to need it.

Can you see the culprit?
The one who made you bleed?
Ask him this from me please,
Has he a mother too?

Only in Pakistan....

The following are some of the things that will only happen in Pakistan in great abundance.

1) One out of every three motorist will, at some point of even a short journey, spit out their window. You may choose to look away but you cannot miss the expertise with which a glassful (no exaggeration) of liquid will spew from their mouth, miss a passing car, defy all laws of physics and splatter onto the newly washed pavement or wall. It's a form of sport that will soon be recognized I'm sure. As for now these 'spithletes' practice their art regularly and without fail. Only in Pakistan.

2) Whenever there is a need for a vertically straight line there shall be a horizontal gathering of humans. It is almost like an unspoken law in this country. We are just not built to make lines. Ask us to elbow, plough through, or generally disrupt a smooth process of 'first come first serve' and we come out on top, but make a line? Never! We can stand next to a fellow Pakistani, whether on their left side or right. We can stand in front of them, heck even on their toes, but behind one? Never! If there is a ladies only line and we are forced to stand behind a fellow human we will stand boob to back! You see it has been noticed that the rate at which the line will move forward is directly proportionate to how close we stand to the person in front of us.

3) If there is something interesting happening in the world it is meant to be ogled! A foreigner, for example, shopping for groceries is the epitome of entertainment for us. We will forget our own shopping list and start following them in the aisles. If not that we shall make sure we reach the check out right after them so we can see all that they have purchased. If they are in shorts, we are in luck. More foreign legs to see. Don't get us wrong we also indulge in staring at our own people. It is a national pastime really.

4) Crossing streets is for cavemen. We stroll, amble, plod, prowl, drift, linger, traipse across the busiest roads of our cities. You just can't touch this. And if you do, we can throw an unmatched hissy fit! After all it is our fundamental right to take our sweet time crossing a busy main road. Especially if we are ladies. A lady never runs, or even trots. Therefore, keeping to the code, we as Pakistani ladies like to take a nature walk down traffic laden lanes all the time. And let anyone tell us otherwise.

5) Talking softly is for pansies. We must alert the entire vicinity of our presence. If something has to be uttered it has to be utterly loud. Whether we are telling our husband's off or just our kids, it has to be done at a volume that grabs the attention of all and sundry. Even our whispers are done with fanfare. We have mastered the art of being loud and uncouth in public and therefore can be spotted anywhere in the world.

6) We become dyslexic when faced with sign posts. If it says 'do not spit,' it actually tells us that they have selected this very spot for us to spew our guts out. "Be quiet," turns us into a herd of banshees. "No smoking" reads "why not light 'er up." What you can't read won't harm you!

7) A wet toilet is the best toilet! That is the philosophy of most Pakistanis. Therefore the most hardworking of all our labour force is that lady or gent who stands inside loos in malls, at airports etc. They quickly hand you a tissue as you come out of the stall but little do they know that the stall has now become a flood zone, only after your worthy 'efforts.'

8) A dustbin is a Pakistani's worst enemy. We either choose to ignore the blatantly harmful thing or we taunt it by surrounding it with the stuff that it was made for in the first place. As anyone can see that due to our sheer hard work we have made Pakistan 'Trashistan.'

The list is quite extensive I can assure you. These are just some of the things popular among our educated classes. Imagine the achievements of our less erudite countrymen.

I promise.....

For you my children of Peshawar.....

I promise to remember this day,
Till the day they lift me on four shoulders and carry me away,
I promise the sight of your blood,
Will forever stay in my mind,
Forgive me for waking up,
And going about my business of living,
While your graves turn cold.
I apologize for being able to hold my children,
While your mother looks for you desperately,
Hoping that you might come home.
I don't deserve to taste the food that I swallow,
I don't deserve to behold the colours of this world.
I promise to remember,
The white shrouded bodies of all your classmates,
The bullet riddled walls of your school.
Please forgive me for breathing another day,
While your young father carries your body away.

Here I go!

In memory of my little children in Peshawer
Rest in peace babies......

Cricket, hockey, my cell phone, girls
Exams, friends, playing hooky, holidays
Growing pains, heartaches, hair in strange places,
Shaving like dad, glasses like big brother,
Batting like Afridi,
Boxing like Amir Khan.
School assembly, the last days before winter break,
Passing notes to buddies, waiting for the lecture to end,
Here is my wish list mother,
There could have been more,
I had no time,
Lay me down now I have to go,
My blood has been pouring for far too long,
I give my life, my wishes, my hopes,
I don't need them where they have sent me,
Tell baba not to cry for my friends accompany me,
I am not alone,
the little girl from fifth, the boy from sixth,
Here I go!

Eid Saeed

Look at those soft round heels
They can sure kick when angry,
Have you seen the tiny fingers?
Curled into fists when fussed.
Look away
There's baby blood everywhere!
I cannot tell if it's a heel or a hand anymore

Big brother tugged at those naughty ears
Little sister patted her sticky cheeks,
Father used to run his hand through her soft curls
Mother kissed that warm forehead,
Look away
There's baby blood everywhere!
Daddy has to hold her limbs together.

Nothing stopped him from kicking that ball
Other boys are also playing outside
The surf beckoning,
The sand spraying as they pelt after their rolling target,
Look away
There's baby blood everywhere!
His legs lay askew as they took them to the morgue.

Eid Saeed oh children of Palestine!
I hope there is peace where ever you are now
This was no place for children
There's baby blood everywhere!

‘Raped’ Teen Dies of Self-Immolation

'A mina' incident
Take me home mother for the deed is done,
I have completed the task myself
The burning that begun with brutal thrusts
Has now engulfed me entirely,
I am free
Take me home mother for the deed is done
The skin they devoured has melted off
There is nothing left to turn them on,
I have made sure I look as hideous as death
God should make us all like this
Dripping with our own flesh and blood
Then perhaps they will leave us be
Or maybe not
Like vultures they will come
They have, can you see mother?
I told you I was telling you the truth
Now they believe me as I light the torch
As I am licked clean
They believe me mother and so do you
As I bid adieu 
O! Mukhtaran
I know what you meant
There is no pain like the one we tasted
But I cannot live with the shame
Take me home mother for the deed is done,
I have completed the task myself.