—In memory of the innocent lives lost in Baisaran Pahalgam, Anantnag, and a voice of truth by Dr. Bilal Ahmad Bhat
In a land where snowflakes kiss the pine,
And saffron dreams in silence twine,
Where every whisper in the vale is lore,
Peace was painted on a bloodied door.
They called it ‘Mini Switzerland’—a name
That sang of beauty, not of shame.
Baisaran’s meadows, green and wide,
Now cradle echoes of those who died.
In the hush of twilight, laughter flew,
Children’s giggles, lovers too.
Tourists came with hearts unarmed,
By Kashmir’s splendor deeply charmed.
But beneath the blossom, beneath the smile,
Lurks a truth that spans a mile.
For normalcy—so loud, so staged—
Hides the storm that’s barely caged.
And then it struck—the silence torn,
A coward’s act, a soul’s scorn.
Innocents gunned, their journey ceased,
In a land that once whispered peace.
They came as guests, with no demand,
Just a dream to touch this fabled land.
But bullets answered innocence’ song—
A tragedy vast, a wound so wrong.
Dr. Bilal Ahmad Bhat raised his voice,
In the darkness, he made a choice—
To not stay silent, to not look away,
From the horror that shattered our yesterday.
“I condemn this cowardice,” he cried aloud,
“This veil of peace—a murderous shroud.
The blood of tourists, unarmed, betrayed—
Shall not be brushed, nor truth delayed.”
He speaks for souls who now lie still,
For dreams unspoken, time can’t fulfill.
He calls out lies dressed in calm attire—
Masked smiles concealing fire.
To those who wave the flag of peace,
Yet hush the pain, demand its cease—
He says, “True healing begins with light,
Not hiding wounds in cloaks of night.”
Oh Kashmir, your valleys still weep,
Where promises die, and memories sleep.
But voices rise, and hearts still feel—
The need for truth, for wounds to heal.
Let not the silence be mistaken for calm,
Let not the blood be soothed with a psalm.
May justice roar where evil tread,
May memory honor the fallen dead.
And as the chinars sway once more,
May no child fall on crimson floor.
Let peace be more than a poet’s plea—
Let it be lived, let it be free.
