THE DARING DAUGHTER OF DESTINY...
Ah! A prodigy,
She made history,
I study her name in golden books,
Printed as the Daughter of Destiny,
Yes! She’s The Champion of Democracy,
There’s no exemplar to her gallantry,
For she gave her blood for her land, so valiantly,
Ah! The Daring Daughter Of Destiny…..
Trying to highlight her struggle,
I move on to pen her life,
But then view her incredible greatness,
And then her meekness,
Her demeanor with the commons,
And her thrash against panic,
Her services for the People,
For her country,
To bring in it democracy,
And put an end to the rule of tyranny,
To bring about the rule of justice,
Of parity for all,
To make this land, that section of world,
Where the world can find harmony,
Can see the doves in the air,
Rather than war aircrafts,
Where the youth is handed books,
And given pens to write,
Instead of bullets,
And guns to slay their fellow men….
Then, I hold on giving a depiction to it,
But all of my effort goes futile,
For I stumble on, no word in evaluation to it…
I watch Benazir speaking for the rights of women,
To make this land, that portion of world,
Where women are given obsequiousness,
Where the girl child is valued,
Where the females are educated,
Where they’ve no fear of “Black Laws”,
Where they can stand up for getting righteousness,
Where there is no gender bigotry,
Where they’re not treated as chattel,
Her dream of a Pakistan,
Where women are bold enough to make choices,
And work for the wellbeing of their state…
I watch her, moving with her aspirations,
And just because of her endeavors to hand over power to the people,
I see her existence,
Packed with hardships,
Occupied with concern,
And Thereby, I view her valor,
Her audacity,
The resilience, with which she faced all obstructions,
Carrying heavy saddles of responsibilities,
And focusing on each of them faultlessly,
I then desire to portray her,
But defining her takes me to a world of “Impossible”…
For I’m too short of words…….
When I watch her,
Returning to her motherland,
The dust of her ancestors,
To vary its malicious system,
And get its natives, free from the vicious rule of totalitarians,
That land,
Which is quite bleak,
Where lies an eccentric fiction,
That it needs not water,
For its flowers to bloom,
Rather, it requires blood….
My leader,
Who even if away from it,
Had her compassion and essence in this soil,
Felt the quandary of its dejected ones,
And wanted to perk up its conditions,
Lighten every house,
With the glow of education,
And bring up the future scientists from this state,
To employ the youth,
And make Bread, Clothing & shelter available to all,
To do politics, not as a business,
But as a means to aid the disheartened ones…
She came with an ever enduring belief,
She strived with an eternal struggle,
And finally, gave her blood,
Got a long-lasting life,
Left deep-seated marks in the annals of history,
For democracy requires the support of her name,
For Pakistan requires its distinctiveness,
Which was granted to it by Benazir….
Aah… My Mentor Benazir…..
Then I crave to describe her,
For the reason,
I go through all the books,
Numerous vocabularies,
And end of tearing all dictionaries,
As are of no use,
For they consist of no words,
To describe her…
Regards,
Saria Benazir.
She made history,
I study her name in golden books,
Printed as the Daughter of Destiny,
Yes! She’s The Champion of Democracy,
There’s no exemplar to her gallantry,
For she gave her blood for her land, so valiantly,
Ah! The Daring Daughter Of Destiny…..
Trying to highlight her struggle,
I move on to pen her life,
But then view her incredible greatness,
And then her meekness,
Her demeanor with the commons,
And her thrash against panic,
Her services for the People,
For her country,
To bring in it democracy,
And put an end to the rule of tyranny,
To bring about the rule of justice,
Of parity for all,
To make this land, that section of world,
Where the world can find harmony,
Can see the doves in the air,
Rather than war aircrafts,
Where the youth is handed books,
And given pens to write,
Instead of bullets,
And guns to slay their fellow men….
Then, I hold on giving a depiction to it,
But all of my effort goes futile,
For I stumble on, no word in evaluation to it…
I watch Benazir speaking for the rights of women,
To make this land, that portion of world,
Where women are given obsequiousness,
Where the girl child is valued,
Where the females are educated,
Where they’ve no fear of “Black Laws”,
Where they can stand up for getting righteousness,
Where there is no gender bigotry,
Where they’re not treated as chattel,
Her dream of a Pakistan,
Where women are bold enough to make choices,
And work for the wellbeing of their state…
I watch her, moving with her aspirations,
And just because of her endeavors to hand over power to the people,
I see her existence,
Packed with hardships,
Occupied with concern,
And Thereby, I view her valor,
Her audacity,
The resilience, with which she faced all obstructions,
Carrying heavy saddles of responsibilities,
And focusing on each of them faultlessly,
I then desire to portray her,
But defining her takes me to a world of “Impossible”…
For I’m too short of words…….
When I watch her,
Returning to her motherland,
The dust of her ancestors,
To vary its malicious system,
And get its natives, free from the vicious rule of totalitarians,
That land,
Which is quite bleak,
Where lies an eccentric fiction,
That it needs not water,
For its flowers to bloom,
Rather, it requires blood….
My leader,
Who even if away from it,
Had her compassion and essence in this soil,
Felt the quandary of its dejected ones,
And wanted to perk up its conditions,
Lighten every house,
With the glow of education,
And bring up the future scientists from this state,
To employ the youth,
And make Bread, Clothing & shelter available to all,
To do politics, not as a business,
But as a means to aid the disheartened ones…
She came with an ever enduring belief,
She strived with an eternal struggle,
And finally, gave her blood,
Got a long-lasting life,
Left deep-seated marks in the annals of history,
For democracy requires the support of her name,
For Pakistan requires its distinctiveness,
Which was granted to it by Benazir….
Aah… My Mentor Benazir…..
Then I crave to describe her,
For the reason,
I go through all the books,
Numerous vocabularies,
And end of tearing all dictionaries,
As are of no use,
For they consist of no words,
To describe her…
Regards,
Saria Benazir.
