HOW
THE BELLS ARE GONE ?
Lines of control, either you stretch or shrink
But ere that, just, just think !
What about the innocent men who reside,
Along fences of this and that side?
They are killed with constitutional license
Without any reason and with no offence.
From nowhere come a few shells,
And of life, gone are the bells.
The hassle of creased uniforms
Almost uncare some of the norms.
“Fire!” roars an official order
And these men are the immediate fodder
Of a few stray bullets,
That a man, a child or a woman gets.
The day is dark in the humble huts
With no ifs and with no buts.
Who they are and what they have done?
How they survive?
In cold and under blazing sun !
Somehow, somehow,
They still reside
On either this or that side
Of the Line of Control
Just to keep their soul.
[KHAN HASNAIN AAQIB]
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