The cry of an Afghan poetess! .

- Internet Poetry - Anil Chawda

Login:

O my people lost in the mountains of oblivion,

Oh my jewels!

Why are you sleeping in this swamp of peace?

Hey my people, your memories are gone,

Memories of your light blue sky!

Our brains are full of mud,

And you have disappeared in the waves of the sea of ​​oblivion.

Where did your ideology go?

Where did the bright ideas go?

Which robber robbed this charu of true gold?

Which was saved in your dreams.

This is the time of the storm,

It is from this storm that pain and oppression have arisen,

Where is your ship

Where did the silver spacecraft go?

After this drastic stem which gives birth to death

If the sea falls into a deep sleep

And will become lifeless and filthy,

If the clouds do not open the lump in the heart,

If the moon does not smile

And will not share love with himself

If the hard heart of the mountains will not melt

And it will not be covered with greenery

So does your name shine like the sun on the mountains

Will that ever happen?

Will your memories be regenerated?

Memories of your light blue, sky?

Surrounded by flood waters

In the eyes of the fish

There is a fear of oppression and repression

Will there be a glimmer of hope in these eyes again?

O my people exiled in the mountains of oblivion!

- Nadia Anjuman

A woman's condition is getting worse and worse. At such a time, a woman writing a poem, going beyond the Taliban law imposed on her and seeking help in words, is considered to be writing against a gun. The poet longs for peace as much as a bird can build a nest in a cannon barrel. The fire is constantly burning in him out of his own hatred. Victims of such hatred are always innocent.

Nadia Anjuman was born in 190 in the city of Herat, Afghanistan. In 19, the Taliban captured Herat. In the Taliban regime, a woman's wings got a cage, and her legs got a bed. Schooling for girls was discontinued. But Nadia was not so frightened. She, along with other local women, started studying in a secret school run by Professor Mohammad Ali Rahiab of Herat University. Here he found many new caddies of literature. Its winged wings began to flutter in the sky. Poems began to explode in his chest. A forest of thoughts arose within him. He adopted the path of poetry. Poetry in the Taliban regime! And also by a woman! Where does it come from? But the ink of the pen became sharper against the barrel of the gun.

Nadia wrote poems. Collection also printed. Which had a few ghazals and nazmo. These compositions gave him a lot of fame, and even death. Because he had the audacity to write. Probably his biggest motogun was to be born in Afghanistan and write poetry during the Taliban regime. Her husband and in-laws considered Nadia's fame through poetry to be a great insult to her. Her husband killed her so badly that she died. He is said to have been poisoned before being beaten. Truth always has to drink poison. As Socrates drank. As Mira was sent a cup of poison. But Krishna was there to protect her, the cup of poison became nectar. There was no flute player to protect Nadia. He was surrounded by gunmen. Dhanya ... Dhanya ... Where do you hear the sounds of the flute ...? Poetry ban ...? But can a true poet ever be unfaithful to a pen? Don't even dare to hide the pen for fear of death!

In the poem above you will see Nadia's cry. Complaints will be heard. A loud cry will be heard against atrocities, oppression, pain. He asks the people living in his time where our heritage has gone. Is our culture lost against the Taliban? Our morality has been taken hostage? Born in 190, Nadia passed away in 2006. But in the meanwhile, many of them were awakened. Let's logout from one of their other creations.

Logout

I am not a fragile tree

Let it be shaken by a gust of wind

I am an Afghan woman,

Its essence can only be found by shouting!

- Nadia Anjuman