AUGUST 5, 2019

My dreams were shattered on August 5, 2019, when Article 370 was revoked.
All the gods and goddesses were invoked.
For living, I died.
For survival, I crawled.

I had hopes to be dashed.
The hopes were pointed to make holes in my soul.
My skeleton-like father began to haunt me;
My almost-blind mother started staring me.

My two sisters began to curse my soul;
My relatives were on prowl.
Sleepless nights became my routine;
But now, for sleep, I am longing.

Our mud house bore 2014 floods,
But scrapping of Article 370, killed us and what to talk of mud structure.
Reading The Hindu, The Indian Express, The Asian Age, The Times of India, etc., are hated by me;
India Today, Outlook and The Economist have taken away my solitude.

Teaching students has become a disaster for me,
Looking at books have become strange for me.
Receipts of employment forms began to stare at me,
Craving for a class-fourth job, became a nightmare for me.

I slept in others’ houses to forget life,
I listened to Rashid Hafiz to know life.
Lale Argam became my favourite author.
I forgot to distinguish between Allah and Ram.

I entered into Masjid as well as Temple,
To know Him, the world and me.
I became a wanderer, always on move.
Money was lacking and I was not to fit.

Living life was forgotten,
So was dying.
Now, I neither live nor die.
I am breathing, without life.
I need money and money.
Life is money.