The Long Journey to Justice


This was one of the first stories I had read when I first started campaigning for Kashmir. This young woman was 14 when her father mysteriously died at the hands of the Indian Forces.

She has chased justice for years. India relishes in these stories. It makes the lives of victims a living hell with injustice at every step of their journey. Some people have aged and died chasing justice in this quagmire of darkness.

This is her story. Do read and share it.

There was an SOS Call for Kashmir. Did anyone listen?

Kashmir suffers immensely. The fact the Kashmiris are tough doesn’t mean they don’t feel the devastation. I’ve hated the kind of suffering India’s inflicted on them.

The Pakistani media aren’t particularly wonderful at defending Kashmir. It’s probably because India’s infiltrated most of its media houses. Here’s a rare piece outlining the recent emergency situation. Oddly enough they’ve quoted me. This is what I said.

The cycle of violence and deaths in #kashmir. Triggered by India’s draconian policies that are currently in violation of international law.

“Despite being warned by the @UNHumanRights, they continue to inflict harm on the Kashmiri  population. 

— Dr Rita Pal (@dr_rita39) December 15, 2018

So despite multiple quotes and call outs, the United Nations made no effort to respond. It told the universe it was monitoring the situation. It’s been monitoring the situation for years. 71 years to be exact. The public in Kashmir deserves better. Indeed, we all deserve a better world. So it’s January of the next year. Nothing constructive has happened for Kashmir. We’ve all been quoted and the quotes lie in the dust. People lie in the dust. Time moves foward and the same cycle of violence and death continues. That is the saddest part about international authorities. Kashmir had become an after thought and we are all still waiting with the Kashmiri people for truth and justice to prevail. 

I Know him so well. ISI never forgives and never forgets.

The problem with Jasmine DM is she constantly mocks my failed romances with ISI ( Pakistan intelligence) by plastering this song ( see below) everywhere to troll me. It’s become quite a comedy to try and date an ISI agent. It was afterall – Mission Impossible.

Firstly, it was impossible to get a date with a spy and secondly they’ve all got this massive crush on their country ( Mrs Pakistan). Oddly enough, ISI doesn’t have a dating agency. It always amused me to contemplate what characteristics an ISI agent could put on a profile to attract a good woman. They would probably say that a girlfriend or wife would be their second love, their first being Mrs Pakistan always. Effectively, this is a harem of two women. One’s a country and the other could be you.

Pakistani patriots believe anyone in foreign lands in love with them is working for Indian intelligence as a honey trapper. This always lies behind their every move hence most Pakistan’s military feel more comfortable with pretty little Pakistani girls they don’t need to question. There’s a difference between being able to handle girls and real women. Real women fight for the Truth, Justice, Freedom and know about Loyalty and Integrity.

I don’t gloat about my high IQ but I’m not ashamed of it. Much like skinny beautiful women flaunt their beauty, I flaunt my high IQ. The beauty of having a high IQ is that it doesn’t take long to turn into a hot chick if the situation warrants it. That’s the wonders of knowing all about the physics of bra engineering.

My IQ wasn’t enough and it appeared nothing about me as an ordinary girl was ever enough. Not only did I have to cope with a 6000 mile distance, I had to cope with huge trust issues and ISI paranoia. If there ever was an ISI agent in my inbox, he would have long disappeared due to these impossible issues.

I tried pink lipstick, learning Urdu, improving my cookery skills, agreeing to dinner on a mountain with snakes ( SSG commandos eat snakes apparently) on the menu and I was prepared to give up looking at Pakistani Army men on their Instagram account. I was probably prepared to learn or give up most things for a spy as a love forever. Jasmine would be pleased as she thinks my Pakistan Army Instagram addiction causes endless typographical errors. She’s probably right.

The fact that I’m lovely but a bit of fiery here and there escaped ISI’s notice. The patriots and ISI still prefer Pakistani girls who tattoo their makeup on so they look spectacularly more beautiful than the real me. I suppose the bravest of Pakistan isn’t brave enough to date me. I mean what could possibly happen on a Thames River dinner date apart from conversation and food? Did they fear drowning in my eyes and being attacked by a King Prawn on a dinner plate?

Twitter wasn’t enough, writing wasn’t enough, no lip-stick impressed ISI. I was told in order to get a date I had to sell secrets to the Pakistani ISI. The only secret I had was that I wanted to fall madly in love with one. Apparently, they weren’t interested in that kind of secret longing or love.

So Jasmine continues to play this cheesy song. I continue to think about more methods to date an ISI agent. In doing so Twitter bans me for having the temerity to daydream and shockingly write about it. India doesn’t approve of dreaming in green. Every other guy who is caring towards me bitterly complains they can’t live up to the standards that ISI dreams set in my head. Others offer to join ISI for me but I never hear from them again.

I’ve developed a resentment of those in the Pakistani military who distrust me for no reason, adopting a silence or those who penalise me for the distance I exist in. In essence, things haven’t gone well with my efforts to date an invisible man. It became even worse recently when we were told that our enemies had spread around false rumours that we were Indian agents. Jasmine and I felt sick being compared to agents who are thick. Another knife in our fragile reputation. Something else that ruined my love life. After the hours, days and weeks we had spent defending Pakistan and Kashmir, we weren’t even given the benefit of the doubt by the Pakistani military. Eventually, evidence demonstrates our enemies fraternised with the Desperate Housewives of Lodhi Road. So I was left heartbroken really. All my hopes dashed into the dust. That was the only disadvantage of having stupid ugly enemies. They shot through my tortured love life.

Jasmine being my best buddy medicates my longing for ISI by distracting me with Army pictures from their secret WhatsApp group. Apparently, her friends can get hold of them. While I watch Pakistan’s perfectly manicured dressed beautiful girls ( but not very bright) snatch all the ISI agents from me, I just have to hope and pray that one guy is prepared to handle the fire in my soul by using the ice in his heart to tame it. That would indeed be a brave ISI agent. Then again, he would always believe a minor lovers tiff was a disastrous insult to his massive patriotic ego and self respect. So any existence of real love would most probably be assassinated by a spy. His patriotic Pakistani training wouldn’t allow a girl to be right as a gladiator in the arena of love. ISI has a motto ” ISI never forgives and never forgets”. I can’t see that helping in a minor lovers tiff at all.

Tell Me You’ll Stay

Photography by Blood Fountain

Talk to me when darkness falls
Walk with me when twilight calls
Lie with me in moonlight rays
Kiss me in sunlight days
Miss me in summer rains
Love me in seasons chains
Just tell me you’ll stay
Wake me at dawn’s crossed light
Hold me till midnight starlight
Caress my curves, throw the clocks
Whisper your words that lock
My frightened soul in your arms
My heart lives on your shores
For I wait for you on the cliffs of time
Windswept in the summer rains
Saddened in the autumn suns
Frozen in the winters blizzards
Come to me when blossoms fall
Walk in my dreams
Just tell me you’ll stay
For I simply will love you
For always

Ice in your Soul


Winter has frozen you to cut glass
Your gentle soul has turned to ice
Your memories are a tombstone
The stars no longer shine for you
The moon no longer pines for you
You throw ice picks to kill me now
You sharp shoot my shattered heart
You’ve become a killer by nature
The assassin of your love for me
The serial killer of your thoughts of me
The judge, jury and executioner of me
Your dagger ripped through my soul
Your mind’s eye calls me your enemy
As we both die slowly on cold mountain
Remember, I hid my love for you in the stars
It cannot be killed by a common assassin 
It will remain as beautiful as the summer dreams
When you missed my touch in the dawn’s sunrise