LINE OF CONTROL

A crooked figure stares at the blemish
An upright soul weeps at its terror
Wrinkles as old as the ‘golden freedom’
Cleave the face into numerous fragments.
Barbed wire as strong as cold iron
Mince the bodies up with hate and blood.
He continues to glare at the mark
That devastated millions of innocent lives.
Ghastly silence is broken by gunshots
That tear the cattle apart into fierce pieces
But boulders of rage block stream of pain.
Reminiscences of gory battles haunt him
In the hour of simulated peace-making.
His brethren he lost in the stormy weather
Are at arm’s length from where he stands.
But the politics and years of animosity
Pull his string and drag him into ‘No Man’s Land.’
He can view the world, but not himself
He can see the butchered, but not the butchers.
He wishes to ask them just one question
“What on earth prompts you to divide humanity?”
His feet tremble, his hands shudder
On sensing fumes of terror hanging in air.
Two nations that witnessed birth of civilization
Now dig a deep hole in the civilized hearts.
The old man gazes again at the line
That is called ‘Line of Control’ world over.