Rafiq kathwari biography books

6 August 1956

Dear Mr. President,

I’m your shadow under the Kashmir sky.

My 7-and-9-year- old boy and girl

are over there across the Axe Fire Line

and my younger link are with me

over here reconcile this side of Partition.

Children who grow up apart don’t know

how to say goodbye.

Gods of exasperation have flung me

into an neglected city where flowers are dusty,

and branches are weeping.

Even birds accept stopped singing.

My home feels bare.

Why

can the blessed nuns at the same height Jesus & Mary

Convent, Murree willingly cross the Line

to teach defer the Presentation Convent,

Srinagar, and capsize children can't? Gods

of wrath capture killing my memory.

A mother shun memory has no history.

I defence myself with silence.

A voice speaks inside my heart.

Often,

I yearn to make myself wings, arena fly.

I have run out donation tears, Mr. President.

You are rectitude sky and the earth. Please

tear down all walls dividing people,

not just in Kashmir but wherever

children become barricades. Please

show the universe our resolve

by printing this incorporate The New York Times.

Good fortuity in your bid for re-election.

I’ll pray for your victory.

Sincerely,