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Archive for the ‘Peace’ Category

“O God, to those who have hunger, give bread, and to us who have bread, give the hunger for justice.” ~ Prayer from Latin America


A PLEDGE:
Let us make this Ramadan,
special,
by making our Iftars,
simple,
So that we may,
share
with the hungry and the poor
some food
and loads of love.


FOOD FOR THOUGHT:

“Eating alone is a disappointment.
But not eating matter more,
is hollow and green,
has thorns like a chain of fish hooks,
trailing from the heart,
clawing at your insides.
Hunger feels like pincers,
like the bite of crabs;
it burns, burns,
and has no fur.
Let us sit down soon to eat
with all those who haven’t eaten;
let us spread great tablecloths,
put salt in lakes of the world,
set up planetary bakeries,
tables with strawberries in snow,
and a plate like the moon itself
from which we can all eat.
For now I ask no more than the justice of eating.”
~ Pablo Neruda, Chilean Poet

“A hundred years from now
it will not matter
what your bank account was,
the sort of house you lived in,
or the kind of clothes you wore,
but the world may be much different
because you were important
in the life of a hungry child.”
~ Author Unknown

“To a man with an empty stomach food is God” — Gandhi

Category:

Food, General, India, Indo-Pak, International, MOVIE, My world, Pakistan, Peace

Mr Edhi, I know what you mean.


I am really perplexed at the naivety of some of us interpreting Edhi’s statement.

They just choose to pick up the punch line of “killing the politicians” and preferred to ignore the other valid statements he made in which he said, “Political parties are in the opposition or in power, both of which are sides of the same coin. They have been involved in killing thousands of citizens.”
“All tax thieves and zakat thieves live freely in the country. All killers are free, 95 percent of Pakistanis are living in miserable conditions,”

He even made clear, that he has no ambition to come into politics or power, but he would continue to serve the people of Pakistan.

Whatever little I know of Edhi, he is a simple man who knows no mincing of words. He is neither a diplomat with polished demeanour nor is he a politician with twists and turns. Neither does he have any hidden agenda in life. His life is an open book. And above all he has nothing to fear.

It is needless to narrate, but I shall to remind ourselves how noble yet down to earth the man Edhi is.

In a country infested with apathy, he is a man who keeps oceans of empathy for the common man. I stress on the word “common man’. He is the one who has gives shelter to the homeless. He and his wife are the ones who receive illegitimate abandoned new born kids with open hands.

He is a man who does not vie for any foreign funds, or high positions in the pretext of philanthropy. He does not call for press conferences or photo shoots when he launches any project for the poor and the needy. If you ever happen to visit his place on Rashid Minhas road, Karachi, you would find him sitting outside with the drivers, in his simple attire. Anyone unaware of the man would not be able to pick him out from the group sitting there.

The point that I want to make with all this is that if such harsh words come from a man with these above credentials, then there must be some plausible explanation behind it. Anyone with an iota of common sense knows that what he said is undoable.

These words simply reverberate the pulse of the common man, with whom Edhi deals with 24X7. It is his ambulances who reach the site of a blast and keep the unknown bodies for days and months in his morgue. It is he who shelters the orphans from the families whose father dies in the blast or target killings. It is he who shelters the women, young or old, who are left helpless when their husbands, sons, or brothers get killed. He actually witnesses every day what it means when a nameless and faceless poorest of the poor is killed. Most of us just hear it as a statistic on the TV sets. He is a man who is more in touch with the ground realities and common man than even the smallest of politicians.

His words should not be taken in the literal sense. Nor should they be flouted or ignored as insane. These harsh words are the wails of all the dead who fell prey to the violence and of those alive who lead a life worse than death . This is the voice of the pain, frustration and helplessness of the 95% of the people he mentions, who see no hope and respite from the corruption, lawlessness and the injustice.

His words are a red flag for the current situation prevailing in the whole of Pakistan. They speak volumes of the impatience that the masses now have against the corrupt politicians. It signals the lava that is boiling in the volcanoes within each Pakistani.

In fact, this is his simple way to caution the politicians to mend their ways, or else it will be too late. He chooses such cacophony because he knows very well that any words less acrid than this would fall on deaf ears.

I am afraid, Mr Edhi, even these harsh words would fall on deaf ears too.

Reference: http://www.pakistantoday.com.pk/2011/07/kill-all-politicians-edhi-demands-of-kayani/

Category:

Pakistan, Peace, Politics, Social Issues

Dreaming of a world without hatred


The day for me, yesterday, began with the news of Mumbai blasts. Being an Indian origin who migrated after having married a Pakistani 20 years ago, first thing that occurred to me on hearing the blasts was that again the Indo-Pak peace talks shall be stalled and the same cascade of blame game, public statements from both sides, mudslinging, demanding ‘do more’ shall start. All it will serve to do is to reset the peace talks from the scratch. Spurts of cortisol laden with anxiety were rushing through my veins. As the mound of dead in the blasts were piling up, so was my fear in me, that a statement would come blaming Pakistan directly or implying of some group trained there. I knew it would be a sleepless night for me, following every minute of the TV coverage.

Later in the evening, Mumbai incident instantly vanished. There was an instant focus on the venomous words wagged by a rabid tongue. What was tragic was the cascade of events that took place, not just on land but on the walls of various Face Book friends.

It was not just the streets and the vehicles which were torched in anger, but many of the FB friends came out in the open, on their walls, in agreement with these insane words and splattered their share of fuel to the fire, against a whole community.

Within a couple of hours, one could see virtual borders drawn between the various ethnic groups, on a borderless virtual world of Face Book.

The frenzy of mindless hate did not spare me either. As I heard the statement, there was a severe convulsion of the ethnic Urdu speaking aka Muhajir in me. As if all of a sudden a sleeping immigrant woke up overpowering the ‘me’ in me, who till a moment ago took pride in rising above all kinds of differences. I never felt so much rage in me as at that moment. The hate in me wanted to avenge him.
I could sense the positivity drained out of me and replaced by an intense negative feeling of hate and loathing for this man. I would be lying if I would say that my mind did not wander trying to attempt hate for the community to which this mad man belonged. But thankfully, I still had intact memories of wonderful friends and great personalities from the same community and they kept my hateful sentiments in check. However hateful thoughts of this man kept jolting my head. I wanted him and all the ‘virtual’ friends on FB, who agreed with him, to be taught a ‘real’ lesson.
As if commenting on their walls wasn’t enough, I wanted to burn down their walls. In a couple of hours there was so much of energy drained out of me that instead of having spent this night in insomnia ( which is generally the rule when anything like the Mumbai blasts occurs) that I lay listless, and did not realise when was I lost into sleep. It was a restless sleep with visions of fire and blood splattered all over , on streets, on the FB walls. For a change these images did not make me sick. It did not make me feel good either, but it certainly wasn’t a sick feeling.

As I woke up in the morning, I reflected on my thoughts. I did not feel myself. This certainly was not me,.The monster of hate had engulfed me, last night.
After ages, I wept like a child. I cried how 25 years of my upbringing by staunchly secular parents and the rest 20 years of my own strong conviction in humanity as one were undone in a fraction of a second by the blurting of thoughtless statements by an insane man. I could see clearly now that it was a racist slur by a singular man not a community. I was grateful to my conscience, that the ‘me’ in me , who is blind to any color or creed, is taking control of me again.

I now realise exactly of what we read in history, of how passions go out of control, when incited with hateful words.

I also know now, first hand, how the feeling of intense loathing weakens a person physically and mentally in contrast to the strength of soul one gets in loving the whole humanity.

I also know now, first hand, how much of a sense of right vs wrong is blurred when one is overwhelmed with hatred.

I know now that my dream of a world without borders and a world without wars, on which I grew up, shall only be realised if we dream of a world without hatred.

I know exactly what do Pakistanis need, they need to shun hatred of all sorts.

Ilmana Fasih
July 14, 2011

Category:

My world, Pakistan, Peace, Personal, Social Issues, Uncategorized

When kids teach us lessons.


I know not what the name of this boy is or how old is he. But this picture, speaks a million words about his dreams and aspirations.

The comment along with this pic on Facebook, apparently written by his father, said:
Load shedding Schedule in Lahore: 01:00 am to 02:00 am 09:00 am to 10:00 am 02:00 pm to 4:00 pm 08:00 pm to 10:00 pm.

My son wrote this without any assignment. No one asked him to write but he expressed his feelings. He didn’t know that the power is a federal issue…oh! May be he’s right after 18th amendment. This phenomenon of electricity is leaving a deep and darkened effect on a child’s psychology. They can’t have sound sleep. Especially when they used to come back from school at 2:00 pm there is no electricity so they can’t have their lunch properly and same is at night when it goes from 8:00pm to 10:00pm. It also cut down somewhere in midnight in very hot conditions. From poverty to terrorism & economy to education it’s a root cause of many ills & evils but the stone heart leadership is silent on every public issue.

Perhaps good news and Pakistan aren’t friends any more.

The hope-hopelessness curve keeps convulsing with its aberrant spikes and dips in every heart .

After reading the note,jotted by these tender hands, the flame of hope rekindles. Kids are simply amazing. They teach us a million lessons of endurance and hope amidst adversity.

It is their aspirations and faith in their future which is perhaps the only flicker of hope left for us.

Syed Sher Ali’s (the boy in the picture, aged 8 years and a 4th grader–I come to know later) scribbling screams aloud the optimism, that millions of other kids like him whisper each moment.

I just wish that he remains as firm and steadfast in his resolve for all times to come. Let the whip of time not corrupt him, like it has corrupted us. Let the lashes of life not make him a pessimist, like it has made many of us.

Havent we, the grown ups, let them down by what world, what environment and what history we have offered to them?

What have we given them?
Nothing but misery and suffering.

And what do they give us?
Nothing but hope, hope for a better tomorrow.

The picture reminds me of the first half of Kahlil Gibran’s poem on Children:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday

Category:

Pakistan, Peace, Personal

Voices of Ganga Jamuni Tehzeeb


Ganga-Jamni tehzeeb ( गंगा जमुनी तहज़ीब, گنگا جمنی تهزیب,    Ganges-Yamuna Culture) is a  euphemism for the mutually participatory co-existence of  Hindu and Muslim  culture of through the fusion of Hindi and Urdu. (Wikepedia) .

 

 

First example  is a Bhajan sung by Farid Ayaz  & group  (I wonder if it’s MeeraBai’s) sung in a Qawwali form is an excellent example of that Ganga Jamni Tehzeeb.

It was the first time a Muslim Pakistani singer sang a Hindi Bhajan inside a temple in Montreal, during  Kabir Festival in 2008.

Farid Ayaz and  entourage never fail to amaze listeners. Farid Ayaz is  a magician  more than a musician and this passionate rendition is no less than a magic spell…

 

 

Not behind in this tradition of cross culture reverence, Shanker Shambhu brothers sang  in praise of Allah, Prophet Muhammed and Imam Ali.

They were known to be singing with their souls pouring out in their voices and was hard to miss their reverence to the kalaam, said those who saw them sing live.

One of their master piece is the Mun Kunto Maula, sung by many others but this one has it’s own charm, and best of all, I have been listening to this since I can remember….

 

 

These  are but two true examples of music beyond beliefs and borders.

Category:

Farid Ayaz ka Jadoo, Hindi Poetry, India, Pakistan, Peace, RELIGION

Tell me why?~Music Without borders


This post is dedicated to these beautiful little angels who could be our role models and teach us lessons in many many ways.

Childhood is the world of miracle or of magic: it is as if creation rose luminously out of the night, all new and fresh and astonishing. Childhood is over the moment things are no longer astonishing. When the world gives you a feeling of “déjà vu,” when you are used to existence, you become an adult.
~Eugene Ionesco.

Singer: Declan John Galbraith (born 19 December 1991). More than his own country, Englnd, he is famous in China, where his songs were chosen as part of the Chinese education curriculum for learning English. Galbraith’s songs are used to help Chinese children learn English as his songs are easy to remember and suitable for children.
He was not even 14 when he sang this song.
Tell me why?
(Lyrics)

In my dream children sing a song of love for every boy and girl
The sky is blue and fields are green and laughter is the language of the world
Then I wake and all I see is a world full of people in need

Tell me why (why) does it have to be like this?
Tell me why (why) is there something I have missed?
Tell me why (why) cos I don’t understand.
When so many need somebody we don’t give a helping hand.
Tell me why?

Everyday I ask myself what will I have to do to be a man?
Do I have to stand and fight to prove to everybody who I am?
Is that what my life is for to waste in a world full of war?

Tell me why (why) does it have to be like this?
Tell me why (why) is there something I have missed?
Tell me why (why) cos I don’t understand.
When so many need somebody we don’t give a helping hand.
Tell me why?

(children) tell me why? (declan) tell me why?
(children) tell me why? (declan) tell me why?
(together) just tell me why, why, why?

Tell me why (why) does it have to be like this?
Tell me why (why) is there something I have missed?
Tell me why (why) cos I don’t understand.
When so many need somebody we don’t give a helping hand.

Tell me why (why,why,does the tiger run)
Tell me why (why why do we shoot the gun)
Tell me why (why,why do we never learn)
Can someone tell us why we let the forest burn?

(why,why do we say we care)
Tell me why (why,why do we stand and stare)
Tell me why (why,why do the dolphins cry)
Can some one tell us why we let the ocean die ?

(why,why if we’re all the same)
tell me why (why,why do we pass the blame)
tell me why (why,why does it never end)
can some one tell us why we cannot just be friends?

Personal Note: Few things in life have made me cry like a kid, and this song was one of them.

Category:

Earth, Music, Music Without Borders, Peace, Social Issues

The real fight we need to fight


First published in Aman Ki Asha, The News, 29 June 2011
http://www.amankiasha.com/detail_news.asp?id=483


The news didn’t cause much of a stir. After all, it wasn’t a buzz about Bollywood beauties — say Katrina, Kareena or even Veena — or about an Afia Siddiqui, or even a Baba Ramdev or some other ‘hot’ icon that triggers off all-day media coverage. This news report was all about the faceless, nameless women, not one, not two, but millions. But who cares, when there is no nametag, or brand associated with them? Perhaps not many will guess what I am referring to.

Perhaps ignorance is bliss.

I noticed a few tweets, even fewer facebook statuses, a handful blogs that made a passing mention of this ‘news’ which perhaps for many was not much newsworthy in Pakistan, although on the Indian side it was mentioned in quite a few articles and caused relatively more concern.

The news item in question was the recent Thomson Reuters Foundation report according to which Pakistan and India were ranked third and fourth respectively as the world’s most unsafe places for women. If it wasn’t for war-torn Afghanistan and Congo, we would have topped the list. The fifth country in the club was Somalia.

Is it not ironic that India and Pakistan, which also belong to the elite club of the world’s ‘nuclear powers’, also find membership in a club of countries like Afghanistan, Congo, Somalia, and that too on the issue of mistreating women?

The Thomson Reuters Foundation surveyed 213 experts from around the globe, on the five continents, to decide the ranking of the most dangerous nations based on six parameters — health threats, sexual violence, non-sexual violence, cultural or religious factors, lack of access to resources and trafficking.

According to the report some 90 percent of Pakistani women are subjected to domestic violence, a further tragedy being that not even a quarter of them are aware that what they go through is a crime and that there are laws to protect them. They are taught from childhood to bear the marital violence and pressures as culturally appropriate or in the name of religion. Talking in terms of numbers in a populated country like Pakistan, this means a huge figure, to the tune of 80 million or so.

The situation is not much different in India where, despite all the development and booming economy, 100 million poor women are subjected to sex trafficking. The myth is that most of them go into the sex trade voluntarily; the dark truth is that most are lured or kidnapped, and forced into it. The target girl is from the low castes, from the poorest of the poor families — families that can ‘dispense’ with a missing daughter (not a son) and do not make much effort to track her down after she goes missing. What the report did not mention is that 40 percent women trafficked are minor girls.

In both India and Pakistan, rape, dowry deaths, acid attacks, kidnapping, and domestic violence continue unabated and gender inequality persists, although the degrees may vary. And in both, only a handful of such crimes get reported and even fewer are punished.

Both countries can boast of having elected women prime ministers to office decades ago, but in both tens of millions of women today, lead lives worse than cattle. The health and education statistics from India and Pakistan speak volumes for the plight of their women. Their female literacy rates are 54 percent and 35 percent respectively (compare Iran: 73 percent and Sri Lanka: 90 percent) while maternal mortality rates are 230 and 260 per 100,000 respectively (Iran: 37 and Sri Lanka: 60) (Source: http://www.mrdowling.com/800literacyfemale.html).

These statistics follow reports of a 12 percent rise in the defence budgets in both countries. India and Pakistan already spend about 18.6 percent and 23.1 percent, respectively, of their allocated annual budget on military expenditures. Compare this to their budgets on health — 3.5 percent and 13 percent — and on education, 12.7 percent and 7.8 percent respectively (Source: http://www.visualeconomics.com/how-countries-spend-their-money/).

What is the point of harbouring illusions about being secure from the ‘enemy’ neighbour, when one’s own house remains unsafe for millions of one’s own women?

For its part, Pakistan is embroiled in a war situation rife with extremism and violence — but India has a booming economy, and is considered part of the BRIC club (Brazil, Russia, India and China, all deemed to be at a similar stage of newly advanced economic development). What will it take to understand that the key to a real development lies in three words: ‘INVEST IN GIRLS’.

Investing in nuclear warheads for “deterrence” is a poor investment. They shall never be used.

But investing in girls’ education and health will bring phenomenal returns, going a long way towards improving the social and health indicators of the region. The link of women education and empowerment to population control and reduction in poverty is well documented.

According to the WHO website: “There are several compelling benefits associated with girls’ education, which include the reduction of child and maternal mortality, improvement of child nutrition and health, lower fertility rates, enhancement of women’s domestic role and their political participation, improvement of the economic productivity and growth, and protection of girls from HIV/AIDS, abuse and exploitation. Girls’ education yields some of the highest returns of all development investments, yielding both private and social benefits that accrue to individuals, families, and society at large. Girls’ education and the promotion of gender equality in education are vital to development, and policies and actions that do not address gender disparities miss critical development opportunities.”

Perhaps the key to the peace and prosperity of the region lies in prioritising in the empowerment of the women through education and better health, rather than through piling up arms. That might also save us from the international embarrassments like this.

The real fight that the two neighbours, India and Pakistan, desperately need to fight is not with each other, but together — for peace, prosperity, and women’s development.

Dr Ilmana Fasih is gynecologist and health activist of Indian origin, married to a Pakistani

Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Link: http://www.amankiasha.com/detail_news.asp?id=483

Category:

AmanKiAsha, India, Indo-Pak, International, Pakistan, Peace, Politics, Published, Social Issues, Women

The Violin


The bow of my thoughts,
Glides hard
on the strings
Within the chest.
Triggers a convulsion
Fatal fibrillations ensue.
‘In arrest’ go
The pulsations of peace.
The notes scatter
helter skelter
Vexing with cramps
Of violent agony.
Music, is it?
Or cacophony perhaps?
Even I can’t decipher
From the violin
Of my heart.

Category:

MY POETRY, My world, Peace, Personal, Poetry

If I ever met God…


If I ever met God
I would hug Him
For making me ‘me’.
And would thank Him
Over and over a million times
For granting me
Eyes to see the beauty of nature
Ears to hear the melodies of joy
Senses to give and take love
But shall return Him with ‘Thanks’
My bundle of conscience
And walk back merrily.

If He said, “No”
I would leave at his feet,
My eyes, my ears and my senses
For I have endurance no more
To look into the eyes of hunger
Or hear the clamour of hatred
Or sense the angst of pain

If He still said,”No”,
I would pull Him by his hand
And bring Him down on Earth
To face it all ‘first hand’.

Category:

MY POETRY, My world, Peace, Personal

Kabir a day keeps radicalism at bay


First published in english daily, The Islamabad Dateline on 26th June, 2011

Almost 700 years ago, when religious polarisation in the Indian subcontinent was at its helm, a preacher was born. He was named Kabir and he spent the rest of life trying to bind Hindus and Muslims together. Today, as religious hatred is bred into masses and intolerance is injected into young minds one finds it necessary to bring forth Kabir, the champion of religious tolerance and interfaith harmony.

The mystics from united India are more relevant to us than Persian or Turkish voices as they spring from the culture we own. For a relatively more radicalized society in Pakistan, these pluralistic and tolerant voices need to be disseminated vehemently. These great men seemed to be far ahead of their times and Kabir is no exception. Kabir stands tall, in the line of greatest mystics of all time with St. Augustine, Ruysbroeck, Buddha, Rumi, Emre and Hallaj

Kabir’s vision, though timeless in its essence when transformed into simple poetry addresses the basic problems humanity faces today. His message was simple and straightforward — that God is perceived in different forms by different people, but in essence they all talk of One supreme power.

Koi bole Ram Ram, koi Khudai

(Some call him Ram, some name him Khuda)

His honest message offended both Mullahs and Purohits for it challenged their stakes. He was persecuted by both to which he screamed:

Sadhu dekho jag baurana / Sanchi kaho to maran dhawe /Jhoote jag patiyana

(O gentleman, see the world has got mad / I say truth but they run to beat me and believe the fake.)

His intent was not to offend anyone and he made it clear:

Kabira khada bazaar mein mange sab ki khair / na kahoo se dosti, na kahoo se bair

(Kabira Stands in the market place( the world) / Asks for everyone’s prosperity. Neither special friendship nor enmity for anyone).

His mission, through his vision was to promote brotherhood, unity, love and forgiveness beyond regions and religions.

The Hindu says Ram is beloved, the Muslim says Rahim / They fight and kill each other, no one gets the point.

And the point that no one got was:

Maatii Aik Anaik Bhaanth Ker Saaji Sajan Haray
(The Clay Is The Same, But The Designer Has Designed It In Various Ways)

Kabir through his words challenged the authority our society has given to clerics quite audaciously:

The spiritual athlete often changes the color of his clothes
& his mind remains gray and loveless.
Or he drills holes in his ears, his beard grows enormous
People mistake him for a goat.
He shaves his skull & puts his robe in an orange vat,
Reads the Book & becomes a terrific talker.
Kabir says: the truth is, you are riding in a hearse to the country of
death, bound hand & foot.

He even warned against the mindless following of religious preachers and to use one’s own conscience to decide what is right or wrong:

Jaka guru hai andhla, chela hai ja chandh / Andhe andha theliya, dunyu koop parent
(If the preacher is blind (unrealized) and the disciple is also blind, how can they progress further? If a blind shows the path to the other blind, they both are bound to fall in some dead well at some time).

To those bigoted who would not understand this, he remarked:

Phootee aankh vivek kee, lakhe na sant asant
(People have their inner eyes of conscience blind; they don’t see who is real and who is fake)

“What can one do, if, with lamp in hand, one falls in the well”

Bura jo dekhan main chala bura na milya koi / Jab man khoja aapna mujh se bura na koi.

(I went on the search for the Bad Guy, Bad Guy I couldn’t find. / When I searched my mind, Non one is Nastier then Me)

He lived to restore the confidence in the common man against the elite clergy or the rulers, who claimed their superiority by virtue of their status. He explained:

Bada hua to kya hua jaise ped khajoor / Panthi ko chhaya nahin phal laage ati door.

(If You are Big so what? Just like a date tree / No shade for travelers, fruit is hard to reach).

He used simple vernacular language, with metaphors from common examples to engage the people around him. People were fascinated by the deep moral messages contained in his simple poetry.

Kabira Garv Na Keejiye, Uncha Dekh Aavaas / Kaal Paron Punyah Letna, Ouper Jamsi Ghaas

(Kabi , Don’t be so proud and vain, Looking at your high mansion / Tomorow you’ll lie under feet, On top will grow Grass).

Ab Tun Aaya Jagat Mein, Log Hanse Tu Roye / Aise Karni Na Kari, Pache Hanse Sab Koye

(When you came in to this world, Everyone laughed while you cried / Don’t do such work, That they laugh when you are gone)

And that it’s not one’s status but one’s deeds which pay off ultimately:

Ek daal do panchi re baitha kaun guru kaun chela / Guru ki karni guru bharela, chele ki karni chela.

(Both the preacher and the follower are together / but both will be dealt according to their deeds.).

The Purohits and Mullahs could not tolerate his audacity, and how he influenced the common man. His words had already penetrated into masses and exposed the self-righteous claims of every clergy. He got expelled from Kashi. He roamed around Benaras preaching his message and passed away in Maghar.

After his death both the Hindus and the Muslims both claimed ownership over him. There are a few legends but one wonders how was the matter resolved. As for now, there exists a Hindu shrine and a Muslim Dargah adjacent to each other at the place where he died.

Kabir’s words are very pertinent to current Pakistan, where religion is manipulated for political ends and justify acts of violence. Voice of Kabir needs to be resonated in our academia and society being the need of time. Why did not we own Kabir like India? – I leave this question to be answered by the reader.

Co written: Ilmana Fasih with Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi.

Category:

Hindi Poetry, India, Indo-Pak, International, Kabir, Pakistan, Peace, Poetry, Politics, Published, RELIGION, Social Issues

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