A letter to God

I am not even allowed to garland their young bodies with flowers nor am I able to throw the almonds and sweets on them while they are being carried for their last journey because I am being caged and confined. 

Kill me or let my children live, Nida Rafiq Shiekh laments

Dear God,
My name is Kashmir. I am a mother like the great ‘Bharat Maa’ and like all mothers of the Universe, I love my children and they too love me.
 I know you hate ungrateful people so to begin with I acknowledge that you blessed me with things that others crave for. Some dream of me, others fantasize me while many just desire to touch me to believe I am real. I accept the fact that you showered your choicest blessings on me in many forms. But, today all those blessings are of no importance since they are of no use to my children.
I have everything that one needs to sustain and survive. I have splendour that others yearn for. I am a mother to children who can do anything to prove their love for me. I have all the means to feed myself and my children. I am affluent and famous. 
But, today I fail to understand your indifference to me. Either you have forgotten that you created me and my children somewhere in this World. Or may be my sins have exceeded your set limits and its time that I pay for them but, whatever is the case I request you to put an end to my ordeal now.  I plead you to cease it. I can’t take this pain anymore.

 It is said ‘beauty of a woman is at times her worst enemy.’ Similarly, you have laid a curse on my beauty and splendour today. I may be the most beautiful and famous but there are deep wounds and scars on my heart which are making my existence unbearable.  Every breath that I take is choking me. 
My children are laying their lives for me and I am not able to do anything for them. I am losing my kids who haven’t seen much, who have just opened their eyes and are closing them forever for my sake. 
I am not even allowed to garland their young bodies with flowers nor am I able to throw the almonds and sweets on them while they are being carried for their last journey because I am being caged and confined. My children are even denied their right to speak for themselves.  They are getting choked dear God. They want a vent to their feelings to their suppressed emotions. Don’t deny them that or otherwise they will throttle.
I am not able to bear the death of my young kids and as they rest in my embrace forever my heart calls out to them to wake up.  You know it well that they are not meant to be lying in the eternal sleep so soon.
 When they were born, I dreamt to see them playing on the streets, eating the street food ( Masale chuthe and Teli Kare), exchanging smiles, growing up, marrying, having children,  and most importantly I dreamt of seeing them alive and making me proud like all mothers do. I dreamt that they will carry my name far and wide. They will make a name for themselves and for me. 
But, I just saw pain in their eyes, deep emotions and love for me, passion for fighting for their caged mother and for their siblings and eventually their end and submergence in my warm embrace forever.
My children are not terrorists neither are they doing a trade of their emotions and their mother as the world is accusing them. They are just the loyal sons of grieving and enslaved mother who only desire to see their mother ‘Free’.
Their desire to free their mother is costing them their life. I don’t want to see my sons die young. No mother can ever think of it and you are making me witness such an ache. Please, don’t test me like this. This is not the age for them to recline down in perpetual slumber.
Now, since you have left thinking about me and my children. I request you to guide me dear God. Please tell me what to do? I can’t see my children dying anymore and I can’t bear the agony of those whom you have left alive. My house is on fire and nobody is offering help to turn it off. My dreams are shattering and have no ounce of hope left in me.
 I am not able to hear the screams of my daughters who have lost their young sons dying for my freedom. I can’t bear the pain of my children and you don’t seem to be doing anything about this colonial epidemic that you have inflicted on me which is wiping the population of my entire family slowly and steadily. 
 Stop taking my children away from me or kill me instead. I don’t need the beauty, the fame, the resources that you have blessed me with. I just want my children to be happy and in peace.
If you can’t do this then I will be forced to end my life. I want to commit suicide but am scared since the holy scriptures you have sent call it a sin. I wrote this letter to you just to seek your forgiveness but just cant take this pain any more.
Either you kill me or I will kill myself and put an end to the hell that I am giving my children in inheritance.
Regards,
Kashmir – The wailing mother. 
(Feedback at shiekhnids@yahoo.co.in)