The Enchanted forest where the fairies live, The princess waiting for her prince to rescue her. The villains who take so many exotic shapes. The epic battles between truth and lies, Greatest sacrifices made with slightest of hesitations. The great love that the King and his queen shared. The colors that would blind the sun. The clouds which is softer than the cotton and you can fly on it to the end of the world. Stories of Sinbad, adventures of Ali Baba and princes from Persia doing the impossible. Friendly dragons and wonderful wizards battling the evil witches. Oh Child of Kashmir, I wish I could tell you the wonderful tales of fantasy. Tales that take us to a world where only truth is victorious. Tales where love is valued above all else. Tales where peace and tranquility is preserved at any cost. Oh how I wish I could you tell you the stories which shape the minds of young. I wish I could start the evening with the tale of valor and end it with tales of victory. I wish I could. The stories of the mighty tiger and dainty fawns of the forest would also not make much sense to you. For all you will see are the heavy boots of the soldiers and their evil guns pointed at you. Tales of Tarzan and the Jungle Book are just a fantasy which will have no meaning for you. Because all that you will ever see is Animals in green uniforms roaming the streets of Kashmir.
Alas sweet baby you were born in a troubled age and in a troubled land. Kashmir is not a place for fantasies any more. Children like you do not grow as children, you mature too young. Your ears hear the deafening sound of bombs exploding, so where will the roar of a prince reach you. You see your mother crying silently then how can you imagine land of the fairies. You have not seen your father ever since you were born so how would you know the love of a King and a queen. You open your eyes and close them again because there is nothing to see in the middle of teargas smoke. Dear baby I will not tell you the story of justice and truth because you will never see it in Kashmir, so it would not make much sense to you. You hear the wails and cries of people without a pause, so how can I tell you the tales of Happily ever after? Do you want to know the adventures of princes or would you like to learn the shouts of freedom. Would you like to know how dwarves mine gold or would you like to learn how to wipe tears of your mother.
Alas sweet baby, stories of Alladin on his magic carpet is not for you. Rescuing the caged princess is not for you. Neither are the endless rainbows and the dancing fairies. You will be forced to grow very soon. You will mature much before your time has come. You will need to stand up for yourself because no one else will. You will need to learn the ways of Khalid bin Walid and Saladin Ayubi. You will need to follow the steps of your father who set an example for you. You will need to learn to hide your tears and bruises. You will need to learn to face the atrocity head on, So tell me how will the stories of Giants and Unicorns help you. It breaks my heart to tell you that we don't have childhoods in Kashmir. We can't afford to shut our eyes against the misery surrounding us. Most of us have forgotten to laugh so how can I tell you the tales of the jester whose jokes would win the hearts of cruelest of Kings? The legends that shaped the earth are not for you. We live in reality and die in reality. I am truly sorry for failing to provide you a safe childhood.
No Lullaby For Our Babies
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