A Cry from the Soil to India and Pakistan
O neighbors carved from the same ancestral land,
Why must your hearts be ruled by a sword in hand?
Once you sang in harmony beneath monsoon skies,
Now only sirens answer the children’s cries.
Do the fields not grow on both sides the same?
Must you always stoke this poisonous flame?
Does a flag matter more than a mother’s tear,
Or a child’s last breath, taken in fear?
You quarrel over lines on a man-made chart,
While the earth beneath mourns with a broken heart.
The mountains remember when peace was known,
Before gunfire made the valleys groan.
What do we earn with every shot fired?
A hundred funerals, a thousand dreams mired.
What kind of victory leaves both sides in pain?
What is gained when no joy remains?
A soldier’s blood knows no creed or caste—
It spills the same, deep, slow, and fast.
And every drop is a story gone cold,
Of love unspoken, of hands never held.
Listen, O nations with shared past and tongue,
To the songs of peace that once were sung.
They whisper still through the desert and plain,
Begging you not to fight in vain.
You speak of honor, revenge, and pride—
But who will comfort the widows who’ve cried?
Who will rebuild the schools now ash,
Or feed the orphans from war’s cruel lash?
Hatred grows when bombs are thrown,
But peace is planted where kindness is sown.
You burn bridges and build walls of fear,
Yet forget that your people want to draw near.
For every blast takes decades to heal,
And some wounds never truly seal.
It takes generations to mend what’s torn—
And some children will never be born.
You may sign treaties once blood has dried,
But who will answer the questions of those who died?
Who will speak for the life unlived,
Or return the laughter war could not forgive?
Let us not wait until we’re both too late,
To change our path, to alter fate.
Let us not write history in dust and bones,
But in unity, in hope, in shared tones.
We can rise together, both proud and strong,
Not through war, but through righting the wrong.
Let Kashmir bloom with peace, not dread—
Let prayers be said, not for the dead.
Let Lahore and Amritsar trade in trust,
Not hide behind tanks gathering rust.
Let Karachi’s ports and Mumbai’s seas
Exchange not threats, but harmony’s breeze.
Teach your children to hold a pen,
Not point a gun at fellow men.
Teach them songs, not battle cries—
Give them futures, not tear-stained goodbyes.
O leaders, O patriots, take this stand:
No more war, no more blood on this land.
The past has taught, and taught us well—
Peace is heaven, war is hell.
The world watches, the people pray—
That you choose love, not hate today.
For once the soul of a nation is lost,
It may never return—too high the cost.
So India, Pakistan, heed this plea:
Lay down arms, and set your spirits free.
In peace lies strength, in kindness power—
Stop the war, and heal this hour.
