Crimson Gharara – tragedy in Rawalpindi

3Nov/093

I am posting a lovely poem by Foqia composed after the horrible tragedy in Rawalpindi.

I queuing at the Bank,

for my monthly salary.

Image of crimson gharara, its goata lace,

dancing before my eyes.

My four year old Sara in my arms,

I saw it in the market a week ago.

Am waiting for new bank notes,

their smell of freshness, welcome to this clerk’s nose.

The sound of them being counted a break from my mundane life of office sounds,

The thought of buying groceries for Eid,

And then a thundering jolt broke me into pieces,

My body scattered hundred yards,

What will it wear now but a shroud,

The Crimson ‘gharara’ hangs for another buyer in a small shop in downtown Saddar.

3rd November, 2009

Edit: Isa Daudpota

Rehan Qayoom
November 8th, 2009 - 02:41

Powerful Words. Thanks for posting.
Abdul Nishapuri
November 9th, 2009 - 01:18

Great poem. Thanks for posting.
Dr Amjad Siraj
November 28th, 2009 - 11:25

Reminded me of the blast of 18th october where I actually saw all this happening to people including me, only difference was that my fate was slightly different!
Actually a powerful mind has written these powerful poem