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One Word Prompt: India

My country is a beautiful country. It has high mountains and deep valleys full of thick, lush vegetation. There are lovely crystal clear lakes, like the one by the village where I was a small boy. It is, anyone would say, an idyllic paradise.

It is beautiful. I know it is. I remember that it is, but when I see it now, I only see the smoke. The smoke from homes burning, from explosions, from gunfire in enclosed spaces. Instead of the fresh, clean air, all I taste is that acrid, bitter smell. It hangs over those splendid mountains and valleys like a thick, dense fog, choking everyone until they are all unable to breathe be they Muslim, Sikh, or Hindi. Alike the smoke stains the white walls of the mosques and temples. It leaves nothing untouched.

This is my country, and I have known it like this for more than ten years, when the smoke first clouded my vision and choked me. By law it is split in two, and that toxic smoke hangs heaviest over the side controlled by India. Until that country cedes its grip on mine, be it peacefully or by force -- and I doubt it will ever be peacefully -- that cloud shall remain. India oppresses us. India forced this war. India is also to blame for killing my family.

As I will take my revenge on Khan-saab, I will see Kashmir liberated from those infidels in Delhi.


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Altaaf Khan

November 2012

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