MY DREAM

In this hustle and bustle,

In my world of tussle,

Still beauty of my homeland,

Stands as beautiful as beauty itself,

The raised mountains,

The green plains,

The shining glaciers,

Waters clear like mirrors,

Day starts with the piety of devotion,

Almighty showering pure dew drops,

Each petal and flower in ablution,

Where commitment is honoured

With guests we are pleasured

Love is our style

Sorrows and joys are shared

Where just dreamt is peace!

Day and night keeps no barriers

With the open ones and with the closed ones

Dreamt is only peace

Rich and poor dream a common dream

But to them comes the same night

Where also dreamt is only peace!

I too see a dream

Where I see no hopeless mother

Standing on the desolate land

I hear no cries and see no tears

I look in to the eyes of a hopeful bride

For the arrival of her coming groom.

In the severance of his son

I see no father in destitution

No person entangled in the tangles of agony

No person lost in his undecided destiny

No bud trampled before its bloom

I see a blessed sister

Blessed with her brothers blessings

I see no orphaned sibling

I see no gloom of widows

I hear no bang on the street

My people smile with a hearty smile

My people dressed in the dresses of peace

My people secure in the security of peace

My people dressed in white and blue

Where fragrance of dignified peace blooms

No farms under destruction

No homes ablaze in encounter

Colours of calmness scattered there

With no presence of reds and blacks

As red haunts me now

Won't you ask me why?

Or here also people like me are stoned?

The hearts have stoned now

With those dreadful bloodshed sights

In this valley of my illusion

Yes this world of my dreams

I dare to dream peace

You all pray for my dream to come true

It is Ghazal's belief dreams are dreamt to come true!

Gazala Hassan

" How does feel away from home"……

Still I feel the incompleteness in completing these verses…

(read in Urdu)

shamey firaq ab na pooch ki dag-e -dil humko yaad aanay lagay

kuch mehaktay kuch sisasktay andaaz yaad aanay lagay,

hum to khud ko bhulanay chalay thay,

is bhoolnay kay andaaz main kon bhoolay huway yaad aanay lagay…

Kuch beetay huway pal,who guzray zamanay

Is raat ki tanhayee main,kya is zamaanay say kahain

Kis ka anhaar samjayay Kis kis ko hum batlayay

aisay main kon yaad aayay…

Khud say hee saree baat huwee

Aap main hee kuch gum say gayay

Saray zamanay ki roshni main Saree umr ki tanhayee

Kuch sitaroon say bhi kahee, yeh ajab chup see raat huwee

Saree raat janay kuyn who guzray pal yaad aayay….

Ajab yeh manzar,aaraam say yeh baat huwee

Hum baykaraan huway jo…

Who chand karaar kay zamanay yaad aayay…

Jo hum pai guzree who raat bayaan na huwee…

Jo na guzree aisee raat huwee…

Aisay main hum batlayain kya Koyi bala kuyn kar yaad aayay

Ranjish ka yeh ehsaas,yeh waqt ka shayed hai takaza

Hum bhoolna to chahay par yaad aayay

Mayra maula aisa kabhi to ho, Mushkilain kuch to aasan hojayain

Is bhoolnay ki koshish main mumkin hai nakaam hum lotain

Ab janiyay ghazal kya bhoolee aur kya yaad aayay.....

The distinction of being a Kashmiri…
Gazala Hassan
I sincerely fail to distinct between having this ‘distinction’ of being a Kashmiri-is it good or bad, positive or negative, critical or beneficial, usual or unusual, whatever, but bizarre at least when you are living with a cosmopolitan gathering.Let me not generalize this opinion of mine neither can I .But it has always been something quite difficult for me and ultimately I find myself in a fix. I am caught in crisis or more specifically identity crisis. ”Who am I”?-An Indian? An Indian Muslim or a Kashmiri?
It was not just for the first time, but many times now I had confronted it and thankfully so as every time it kept me wondering and I delved deep and deeper, shared with few and more. It always happened when I was asked to introduce myself and tell something special about my native place-my beloved homeland!I was so and so from---???I belonged to---???The most difficult situation which entangled me and deep inside my heart I bewailed .At times it was easy to escape but sometimes it was not really easy and lots of tricks were needed and traps could trap you simultaneously.
The people easily identified you and related you to the “Apples of Kashmir”. Then I asked myself: Was it all only about apples, almonds, snow caped mountains, gushing waters, scenic beauties, glittering glaciers rather melting….or more!
Undoubtedly it was far more than all these things to me and most of the suffering kashmiris. For us it’s about a bloody valley, silent sufferings, tyranny, oppression, lacking leadership, broken trust and concocted truth which was exported to the simple masses of India who knew very well about the apples, scenic beauty and the “terrorists” but were kept miss informed. Perhaps, they (big bosses) knew that masses were equally sensitive if ever they came across the atrocities Kashmiris were facing .Indeed they were sensitive enough as tears rolled down their cheeks and you felt that surge of affection and support from their side too .Not their mistake as they were only told about the bollywood films which were shooted in the valley and they also knew about some mayhem prevailed, but why who and what were kept away from their reach and understanding.
Despite every odd I strongly felt how true was this distinction, the distinction of being a Kashmiri!
My agony and ecstasy, the beautiful and ugly.....the greenery and the dirt....the passionate believer and the eternal despondent....my country, my land, my world, my home...

The pain of missing

Gazala Hassan
The pain of missing perhaps is the only pain which medicines can't cure, doctors can't diagnose, words can't say and intellect fails before it. Perhaps the real testing times for you.I wonder if there is any commonness in how people perceive the pain of missing, how they define it for themselves and how they suffer in the hands of this pain. You may deal with it miserably, silently, blissfully, overtly, covertly or whatever, but agonizingly.
The seconds seem to be quite long and slowly these prolonged time slots find their place in your routine. We try and apply new remedies for this sweet sorrow of missing knowing it's all in vain. We try and console ourselves saying that time is the great physician and a great healer…But passing moments only add to our solitude. Distances only add to the pain and put our strengths to a test thus all our apparent vigor is washed away.
The pain of missing those you love and find close to your heart is an experience never to be experienced, but at the same time this experience tells you the hidden secrets, the deep emotions, the sense of belonging, the responsibility of safeguarding the trust, the aim for which you actually accept this pain, the unruffled feeling of being loved and the sentiment of loving others in its own unique way, no doubt-the toughest one.
Indeed, time has never stopped for anybody nor will it. It has a one common understanding for all of us:"Time waits for none" or does it?
Again we learn to live or honestly we succumb to the circumstances and then what else can we say than-"Life has to move on or is there any alternative!"If there is any let's find out…to overcome this pain of missing my people but,in agony and the guilt of being away, but ,for the dream I weave for my people.