Days of childhood, essence of my life
The longer I grow, the larger my strife
Standing on a beach, remembering my past
Trying to recollect, those memories I’ve lost
When life meant nothing but too much fun
I spent whole days with my dear ones
Not silver, jewels, neither gems nor gold
I want nothing but my childhood to hold
Those were the days when world looks bright
And everything for me on the height of delight
Naughty feelings, care-free life and bath in rain
Were the chief activities of what I contained
Those days certainly prized possession of mine
When moon smiled at me and stars used to shine
Give me my childhood and take my adult
And I won’t care about the religious cult
Published in Young Nation of daily The Nation, 26 March, 2003, Weekly MAG, Dec 13-19, 2003
Muhammad Mahtab Bashir
ISLAMABAD.
mahtabbashir@gmail.com
Pity de nation dat is full of beliefs and empty of religion. Pity de nation dat wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine dat flows not from its own wine-press. Pity de nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking. Pity de nation whose sages r dumb wid years and whose strong men r yet in the cradle. Pity de nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.-KG
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