Nojoto: Largest Storytelling Platform
Download Nojoto

Install App Get upto ₹ 100 Cash

the streets, filled with impenetrable smoke, Kashm

the streets, filled with impenetrable smoke, Kashmir is burning again, so are tyres, rubber, and logs. The houses are burning. Fire runs in waves. The air, heavy with soot, murmurs death overhead. The lost children of the sad country sprint in alleyways with black balloons. The lost children of the sad country count shadows on the sun. In the afternoons they sleep to the rain’s lalluby. The food is scant. There is no milk. The grain of life shapes itself into a stone we bring home for a familial ceremony. Each evening on the dinner tables we prepare for our little wars we will fight in the morning.” poem on Kashmir
the streets, filled with impenetrable smoke, Kashmir is burning again, so are tyres, rubber, and logs. The houses are burning. Fire runs in waves. The air, heavy with soot, murmurs death overhead. The lost children of the sad country sprint in alleyways with black balloons. The lost children of the sad country count shadows on the sun. In the afternoons they sleep to the rain’s lalluby. The food is scant. There is no milk. The grain of life shapes itself into a stone we bring home for a familial ceremony. Each evening on the dinner tables we prepare for our little wars we will fight in the morning.” poem on Kashmir
davil7172818013132

yaseen mustafa

New Creator