What price for those verdant valleys which my mothers traversed for fire logs
What price for those babbling brooks that watered cattle and crops for centuries
What price for the ever-fertile soil, the one they say delivers gold
What price for the land my grandfathers walked away from with moist eyes, tight lips,
even harder hearts…
This Kashmir, this heaven on earth turned to hell, what price for it?
I really want to know, as you sit there and tell me, you British Kashmiris feel nothing for Kashmir,
I want to know, while you paint green and white tattoos on your face and spit how can you? You’re sellouts.
I want to know, when you mock my foreign accented mother tongue firangi
I want to know, just as your pride prickled tongue condescends to reveal the holy meaning of your country’s name la ilaha il Allah
Tell me, what price have you paid for the independence of a still-slave nation?