Our celebration of Eid this time again is enveloped by turn of odd events which instead of leading us to #EidYards reach us to grave yards .
Instead of wearing colourful dresses ,we are content with black tops.
The colourful dishes mock at our faces and remind us the people who lost their dear ones to odd conflict.
Our near ones may be around , pulsing the palm and forehead of people who have nobody to feed them or accompany them disappears the very aroma of festival.
We either have to shoulder the coffins or visit grave yards to bury our own celebrations.
You write or not you are labelled a conspirator journo thus gun down .
We are now left with nothing but daily routine of losing innocent souls to conflicting environment
God has His way of treating us since we deserve to be marooned as our conscience had busted out of ceiling tops which is cause of our present status.
Anyways with a heavy heart let us proceed ahead and whipe the gloomy faces who have been muzzled by brute forces of our adversaries.
People always look to their festivals for rejoicing the Moments but in Kashmir it is reason of our agonies
The marooned race can not afford to go to Eid grounds to offer prayers since here again conspirators play rule and people rained with bullets.
People from all corners of the world visit people on Eid to offer pleasantries but we visit to offer condolences.
We have forgot to embrace county men after Eid prayers as do others since people look for shelter after prayers.
The invisible forces have now make it mission to disturb our religious activities and Friday prayers.
It is difficult to locate our enemy since they have worn on dress with our own identities.
Whom to catch hold and whom to set free tantamount to our real confusions
We have lost connection with our youth as conspirators have corrupted their mentalities
Skies oftentimes burst into tears to be on our side during our agonies.
Our race and new generation is in dangers and fail to get answer to our prayers.
The womb is in danger so is our life ,finding outlet confuses.
One day we may be called the generation of utter neglect and race of mourners
Let us prostrate fully and let skies intervene and shore us to peaceful banks.