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THE PRESENT IS NOT PLEASANT AT ALL
The struggle for survival goes on
For the poor and the downtrodden
And the white-collared working class
The powers that be just don't care!
This is a land which was carved
In the name of peace for all
But it has become a safe haven
For the corrupt and the unfair.
Sixty three years have passed
And everything good is vanishing
Evil, dishonesty are rampant
And sin keeps lurking everywhere.
All are caught in a rat race
Of becoming rich overnight
And those who are not in this rut --
-- For them life is a nightmare.
Can ends justify the means?
Are fairplay and truth meaningless?
If so then this "Land of the Pure"
Is bound to end up nowhere.
This is not what poet Iqbal saw
In his vision of a homeland
For the suffering Indian Muslims --
-- Nothing he envisioned is there.
Nor this is the nation for which
Many sacrificed their where-withal
All that my sad eyes can see
Are scenes which I can't declare.
Divided is this Pakistan
And divided are its people
A nation which professes Islam
Is like a wild, unbridled mare.
How will God listen to us?
Hollow are all prayers!
The hearts have become hardened
And brotherly love is very rare.
O loved ones close to my heart
And O you closest of them all:
I have to keep toiling daily
Putting up with ghosts that scare.
My body and mind long for rest
Yet there is no respite for me
I long for some more hours of sleep
But there is no moment to spare...
(Written by Muhammad Naveed Ahmed/Emmenay on Sunday, March 20, 2011).
