Goodbye to a mother

Azaan Javaid

 I know when you find the letter the least you should expect it to be is a goodbye letter. But I tell you it is more than that. So do gather all your courage and read the letter aloud. If you can’t do so read it to yourself and even if you can’t do that then read it in your heart.

Even though I am young but it seems I have spent a millennium in this forsaken land. I have seen my brothers beaten to death, my sisters molested and our elder humiliated every single day I lived. Now it seems impossible to take it anymore. I am tired of staring at the helpless boy in the mirror. I am tired of convincing myself that everything will be fine and I am tired of actually accepting each day that I can’t do anything about it. Not anymore.
Papa had told me once that Kashmiri’s might lose everything but we won’t ever lose our self respect. I believe in every single word he said and I am no way on earth willing to lose it either. So I have decided to fight. I know some people may call me a miscreant, an agitational terrorist, lunatic, funded by external forces and what not. But you tell them what I am-a Martyr. Tell them I was too proud to run away so I have decided to face the heat. Tell them no doubt a stone versus a bullet is no match. It might seem madness but if protesting for the agony of people is madness then yes, your son was the maddest person they had ever come across and so are the thousands on the streets. I might not be a good son and I am not able to give you the happiness of what a well educated son with a classy job could have, but a satisfaction of your son being brave and just. I leave you with the moments so you hold your head high . It is said that the best thing that you can do for evil to prevail is to keep silent and mother I won’t be silent, we won’t be silent. We will yell at the top of our voices, we will yell till the soul of our enemies is moved, we will yell till every human ear hear us, we will yell so that our voices echo forever.
Mother, my friends have already departed. Everyday they come in my dreams with desperate eyes and ask me am “I fighting for them”. I am tired of saying no to them. They hope that their hopes to come true. But how can I answer when all I do is to weep in my bed and watch as more of us fall. I want to smile back at them and say I am fighting. I want to tell them that I don’t know if we will get what we want but yes we will not stop trying. I will not stop trying. I want to tell them that we will fight till last soul and even till last breath.
There are few things I want to tell you. If my little sister asks for me tell her I am watching her, if father gets depressed tell him that his son was brave lad, give him strength, if daadi’s (grandmother) heart can’t bear the pain tell her that it will hurt me more to see her like this, tell her to be happy that she has seen a generation awaken. Give all my cousins, my little brothers and sisters’ examples of what we have accomplished. Tell our people not to waste our blood. Pray to God to give strength to us especially to those who have lost their young ones. And for you mother I don’t  have much to say just do not see me when they bring me on four shoulders because I want you to remember my smile even though in a place like Kashmir it was rare to see. Do not weep when I am being taken to my grave because your tears might weaken my fellow brethren.  Yes it did pain when I was hit but believe me that pain is nothing compared to what we experience throughout our lives. Mother I know you  won’t  have anyone to feed  with your warm hands, I know you will have no one to wake forcefully to go to school and no one to wait for after the sun sets. No one will sleep in your lap and you won’t have a strong hand for your old days. But you will have pride. I am sorry for depriving you from all the things you had wished for me but remember I am gone for a greater good, a glorious cause. I will not apologize for the path I chose and I expect the same kind of understanding from you, after all it is your upbringing that has made me to think in a righteous way. Your son was just like the others who fell along the way and he wasn’t special than the rest of them even if I meant everything to you.
Make an example of me as my fall is not the end but a beginning of an era where we would live happy for ever. Make sure that our sacrifices do not go waste and it serves as oil to the burning flame that has been lit. Pray that our aspirations and our dreams come true; so that there will be a very little difference in heavens-one above and the one on  the earth.


About theparallelpost
The language of words is more heavenly than the language of tongues and lips. The Parallel Post is a forum to offer a space for people who dare to speak through their words. The intention is to create an environment to share in words what we perceive in our minds...

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