The Children of Peshawar wake up to an easy morning
It is just another chilly day where
The cold is the villain, the saviour is the blanket
And when a tired walk to the toothbrush is
The hardest exercise of all.
The morning is fun, the birds are still chirping
Your friends gather round, exchanging jokes when
The bus arrives and all of you run inside
And then you realise, that undone math problem is
The most difficult homework of all.
In the school, with your prim uniforms you sit
Waiting for the teacher to scold you when
Instead of the school bell you hear a boom
And then you suddenly realise the walk to the gate is
The most difficult escape route of all.
They fire in the name of God, they kill, they maim
You wonder, why me? Why us? Why in the name of God?
Why are they killing? Will it be me next?
And then you see how the biology teacher you hated is
Helping you and your friends find the easiest way out of it all.
Your friend, the boy you played cricket with
Is lying on a mattress of red, unable to move, to respond
He's dead. The girl you had secret crush on, she's dead too
And then you see that the face you see in the mirror is
The face of Breaking News. It's bloodied? Ah, that's better
One by one, they kill a hundred, and then they kill more
One by one, we go numb, and then the TV microphones haunt
What do you feel? What do you feel?
What do I feel? I really do not know what I feel
What does one feel when your world has crumbled.
The children of Peshawar are just children, aren't we?
The children of Peshawar want to just brush their teeth
The children of Peshawar want to just wear prim uniforms
The children of Peshawar want to just be scolded by teachers
The children of Peshawar want to just have a secret crush
The children of Peshawar want to just board the school bus
The children of Peshawar want to just play football
But we are not the children of Peshawar, are we?
We are your children.
Sachin Kalbag is the editor of Mid-Day.
We welcome your comments at
letters@scroll.in.
It is just another chilly day where
The cold is the villain, the saviour is the blanket
And when a tired walk to the toothbrush is
The hardest exercise of all.
The morning is fun, the birds are still chirping
Your friends gather round, exchanging jokes when
The bus arrives and all of you run inside
And then you realise, that undone math problem is
The most difficult homework of all.
In the school, with your prim uniforms you sit
Waiting for the teacher to scold you when
Instead of the school bell you hear a boom
And then you suddenly realise the walk to the gate is
The most difficult escape route of all.
They fire in the name of God, they kill, they maim
You wonder, why me? Why us? Why in the name of God?
Why are they killing? Will it be me next?
And then you see how the biology teacher you hated is
Helping you and your friends find the easiest way out of it all.
Your friend, the boy you played cricket with
Is lying on a mattress of red, unable to move, to respond
He's dead. The girl you had secret crush on, she's dead too
And then you see that the face you see in the mirror is
The face of Breaking News. It's bloodied? Ah, that's better
One by one, they kill a hundred, and then they kill more
One by one, we go numb, and then the TV microphones haunt
What do you feel? What do you feel?
What do I feel? I really do not know what I feel
What does one feel when your world has crumbled.
The children of Peshawar are just children, aren't we?
The children of Peshawar want to just brush their teeth
The children of Peshawar want to just wear prim uniforms
The children of Peshawar want to just be scolded by teachers
The children of Peshawar want to just have a secret crush
The children of Peshawar want to just board the school bus
The children of Peshawar want to just play football
But we are not the children of Peshawar, are we?
We are your children.
Sachin Kalbag is the editor of Mid-Day.
