This is the first poem ever written by me, dedicated to the victims of Peshawar attacks.
She finished her milk and dreaded the day,
crying out in dismay.
Let me stay home, please. I’ll be no trouble to you.
The usual tentativeness, the doe-eyed look,
was all but known to mother.
The lady kissed the warm forehead of her precious jewel,
Go to school and study well,
and I’ll buy you a pasty or two.
Making a face, she slouches towards the bus,
bidding her adieu, her school bag in tow.
Closing her eyes and cupping her hands,
Oh Allah ! Just this time, she prays.
Looking out of the window,
she finds her wish granted,
Some vehicles have stopped by her school building.
The grim reapers apparate,
and enter the temple built by the teachers,
for worshipping knowledge,
learning things far off,
solving equations, and
memorizing geographical terrains.
They barge inside the classroom,
pitiless masks inciting terror,
and light a fire to Miss Kausar.
The math homework left uncorrected by the teacher.
Screams muffled by gunshots,
songs in the auditorium get cut short.
The school function saw it’s culmination,
with bodies feasted upon,
and gore squirted like wine.
Blood gushing from her own head,
she falls to the ground,
her scream echoing her mother,
and joins the young militia,
In their glory unbound.
The mother stood at the door,
the pasty scattered on the floor.
White as a sheet, lips quivering
tears trickling down her eyes,
television blaring, the telephone ringing.
Jihad, the screen flashed
Her heart sinks, and she lets out a moan
The murder of her child is being called Jihad,
When jihad was feeding her daughter her own piece of bread,
Reading her stories, helping her with homework,
Putting butterfly clips in her hair,
and crowning her a princess.
Her squealing with delight while getting ice creams,
bathing her with her favourite soap and eau de cologne.
But this bath shall be the last bath of her dear baby,
Alas ! The true jihad had wavered, while the false prevailed.
Banging her wrists on the door,
she slides down to the floor,
lamenting her loss, regretting her decision,
for sending her little girl to school.
To read, learn and be a true Jihadi.
P.S Jihad literally means the spiritual struggle within oneself against sin, and taking out peaceful and silent processions.
A woman who takes care of her family without expecting anything in return, who does her daily chores without complaints and makes good and responsible citizens out of her children is a Jihadi. A child is also a Jihadi for trying to learn, enlighten oneself and be a better human. These are the people who will be rewarded by Allah, not the cowards who barge into a school or any public place and commit inhumane acts like killing innocent people.
*Condemning the Peshawar attacks.*