My Name Is Hiba Nasir I wasn’t pelting stones Ten years ago I didn’t even know what protesting meant I was Kashmir’s youngest pellet gun victim Only 20 months old then I lived with my family In Shopian I was playing inside my house when the army sprayed teargas All around Grey smoke entered our…

Kasheer Saleem morukh Salaam morukh Habeeb morukh Heshaam morukh Ye shahar morukh Ye ghaam morukh Kasheer hund Subh o shaam morukh Kashmir They killed Saleem They killed Salaam They killed Habeeb They killed Heshaam They killed this city That town they killed — All of Kashmir’s blood They spilled *** By Abdur Rehman Rahi (b.…

Son, I Again Dreamt About You Last Night A version after Iqbal I couldn’t find the road in the dark, my every hair bristled but I dared myself and walked on, saw boys swaying in single file, each holding a Diya lamp in his hand, their clothes glowed like emeralds— God only knew where they…

Phoenix after Iqbal Unveil your face A star is witness Stop flickering Blaze How long will you beg like Moses on the mountain? Fan the flame within you Create a new Mecca with every speck of your embers Rid yourself of idolatry Observe the limits in this temple Even if you want to boast First…

Dear Rafiq, I just received your new book of poems, “My Mother’s Scribe,” and was delighted to learn your mother’s name is Maryam. My maternal grandmother was named Maryam. My mother (Araxie, ten-years old) last saw her and her 3 younger brothers in Urfa on the Death March in 1915. They were in bad shape.…

The Brothers Kathwari after Iqbal You know the secret I lack depth You have a home I’m a wanderer You control the sky I’m prisoner of desire You profit by interest earned I’m losing the race Your ships float in the air My boat is without a sail Restless, you’re spring I’m fall You’re weak.…

Ardor after Iqbal Her seduction keeps him fluid as mercury Has she taught him the rules of passion? Restless, he finds comfort yearning Is she his eternal flame? Is he a lover of ancient beauty? She, small Sinai; he, small Moses His search for illumination — An insect longing for light   By Rafiq Kathwari. His…

She Drives as I Scribble on London I wear my French bodice and you don’t even notice I dread turning into a submissive housewife Will you still hug me after we are married? I understand the off-side rule in football better than many men I know When I’m premenstrual, I want to smash glass I…

by Rafiq Kathwari If you go to Kashmir today this is what you will see. As you drive away from Srinagar’s Hum Hama airport, a large green billboard with white lettering proclaims, Welcome to Paradise. You will whip your head from side to side absorbing the sights and sounds of heaven: men in khaki in…

  Buddha died and left behind a big emptiness — Allen Ginsberg   Vale of Kashmir 700,000 jackboots fill the emptiness — Rafiq Kathwari  

by Rafiq Kathwari “Battle of Algiers”, a classic 1966 film directed by Gillo Pontecorvo, seized my imagination and of my classmates as well when it was shown three years later at the Palladium in Srinagar. A teenager wearing bell-bottoms, dancing the twist, I was a Senior at Sri Pratap College, named after Maharajah Pratap Singh, a…

by Rafiq Kathwari Dapaan, Rama saw Sita bathing nude in Sitaharan, a spring near the Line of Control in Kashmir. It was lust at first sight. Dapaan, the demon king Ravana abducted Sita to Sri Lanka to avenge a previous wrong. Rama flew in anger south to Sri Lanka in his glitzy winged chariot. Dapaan,…

by Rafiq Kathwari Before the Modi regime annexed Kashmir on August 5th last, Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first prime minster, in fact annexed Kashmir in 1947 just months after India partitioned herself to create the new state of Pakistan. Delhi flew in a regiment of troops to Srinagar as soon as the Maharajah of Kashmir signed…

Mother Writes to the ‘Lion of Kashmir,’ Long Deceased February 2020 Dear Sheikh Sahib, They tell me, you are buried on the left bank of Naseem lake with views of Hazratbal shrine, your tomb guarded by India’s troops. I tell them, this represents one of those paradoxes’ history keeps throwing up: the same people who…

Mother Writes to the Turkish Ambassador in Karachi 17 April 1958 Your Excellency, thank you for the portrait of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk who yanked women of Turkey kicking and screaming into the 20th century. Please accept this modest shawl I promised. Every stitch has been hand-embroidered by the blessed women artisans of Kashmir who have…

by Rafiq Kathwari Mother passed away in her sleep at Hebrew Home, The Bronx. The last time I visited her was on 7th March. Hebrew Home locked down on the 10th. Mother died alone on 31 March. She was 96. Mother’s caregiver, Sabila from Nepal, who over the last 10 years created an extraordinary bond…

Mother Writes to Admiral of the Fleet Louis Francis Albert Victor Nicholas Mountbatten, 1st Earl Mountbatten of Burma (born Prince Louis of Battenberg), Last Viceroy of India, Cuckolded by Nehru,  Assassinated by the IRA. 27 August 2019 Dear Lord Louis, Last night I dreamt we were flying on an Oriental rug above graveyards of the Kashmir valley…

Mother Writes to the Lion of Kashmir, Long Deceased 5 August 2019 Dear Sheikh Sahib, daring son of Kashmir’s soil. They tell me, you’re buried on the left bank of Naseem lake, with views of the Hazratbal shrine, which you rebuilt, your tomb guarded by India’s paramilitary troops. I tell them this represents one of…

Your laughter was a car engine sputtering. Your peers were whiz kids in the dot com world. You showed me notes you’d made in the margins of all seven volumes by Proust. You said Sentimental Education wasn’t sentimental enough. You rolled your own leaves reading Ulysses, finishing it in three nights flat, but you wished…

Last Night I Dreamt I Was in Kashmir Again “May our Chinar last a thousand years,” Grandfather said, clenching a cigar. “Chi means What, Nar: Fire: What fire!” Rustling boughs reigned above the tin roof of our home where I was born a Scorpio at midnight. It’s Fall. Each leaf burst into a flower. We…