HOW THE BELLS ARE GONE

LINES OF CONTROL

Lines of control, either you stretch or shrink

But ere that, just , just think

What about the innocent men who reside

Along fences of this and that side?

They are killed with constitutional license

Without any reason and with no offence

From nowhere come a few shells

And of life, gone are the bells.

The hassle of creased uniforms

Almost uncares some of the norms.

"Fire!" roars an official order

And these men are the immediate fodder

Of a few stray bullets

That a man, a child or a woman gets.

The day is dark in the humble huts

With no ifs and with no buts

Who they are and what they have done?

How they survive?

In cold and under blazing sun.!

Somehow, somehow, they still reside

On either this or that side

Of the Line Of Control

Just to keep their soul.

Khan Hasnain Aaqib