Gaza and Kashmir
aren’t different.
Alike in more ways
than your gods in heaven
would dare admit.
Same boots.
Different languages.
Same bombs.
Different broadcasts.
Same blood.
Different narratives.
Yet Gaza lives
in your fragile nuances —
curated grief,
borrowed rage,
secondhand sorrow
tailored for this week’s outrage.
But Kashmir —
just binary.
Black. White.
Ours. Theirs.
A glitch in your map
you pretend not to scroll over.
You pronounce “Palestine”
with a shiver in your spine,
but “Kashmir” clots
behind your tricolour throat.
You forget it
because remembering it
might fracture the spine
of your rehearsed nationalism.
Kashmir is not yours.
Not theirs either.
Yet both flags plant it
like a colonial seed,
each digging trenches
in the name of god,
or peace,
or power.
India in Kashmir.
Israel in Gaza.
One colonised in denial.
The other colonising out loud.
Different history books.
Same erasure.
And America —
arms both ends.
Funds the silence,
and the siege.
Feeds one with patriotism,
the other with proxy wars,
buys peace in dollars
and sells it in drone strikes.
You don’t need
to scroll for proof —
Kashmir is televised too.
But patriotism
is an optic disease.
It trains you to see
what makes you proud,
and blind to what bleeds.
You nod at Palestine
to feel global.
You stay silent on Kashmir
to stay safe.
You outsource morality
to relevance,
and rent resistance
for reach.
You breathe
like a spineless reptile
wearing empathy’s skin.
Is it bigotry?
Or did you just
fail basic biology?
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