Ubaidullah Pandit (عبيدالله پنڈت)

Flip through the blood-soaked pages of history, Vanity and lust, for power and blood, Foolishness at the dizzy heights Clash the bells for Casus Belli. Smell each ink-smeared line from Margin to margin, top to bottom, right to left, Who among us humans wants to fight and See his shoulders burdened with coffins? So let the quill of humanity flow free On dove- pages of the book of love, Carrying on its wings the strings of peace, Flying across borders of every kind. (27-Feb-2019)

I have a particular liking for remembering dates. Not just any date, but those that witness something happy or tragic happening to me or others or the world at large. Along with noting them down, I make a point of remembering certain days of the year. This fourth day of February is also important. Before we see how, I’d recall two days of the Mays of 2017 and 2018. On both these days which were separated by a year the weather was pleasant. Perhaps that was the only pleasant thing. I’d just woken up when my cousin called me and said, ‘Wala SKIMS tamath, Beti Uncles gasov khabri’. It was the May of 2017. When we reached the premises of the hospital, we were denied entry because of some rule that disallowed too many frequent visits before noon. However, we didn’t go back. We managed to sneak our way through power rooms and well into the ward. There he was, sharing the room with five other patients as far as I can remember. I sat beside him. He seemed very well then, giving the impressio...