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Prof. Tariq Mansoor is presently serving as the Vice-Chancellor, Aligarh Muslim University, Aligarh. Previously he has also served as Principal, J.N. Medical College, Chief Medical Superintendent, J.N. Medical College Hospital and Chairman, Department of Surgery. He is also the member of Medical Council of India since March 2015 for a period of four years. He is product of the first batch of prestigious Our Lady of Fatima Higher Secondary School, Aligarh. During his school days he has served as House Captain as well as School Captain. He did his MBBS and MS in General Surgery from Jawaharlal Nehru Medical College, AMU, Aligarh. A surgeon by profession with special interest in Breast and Thyroid Diseases, Prof. Tariq Mansoor has 33 years of Teaching and 35 years of Clinical experience. He has 90 publications to his credit and has guided 49 Postgraduate Medical Students for their Thesis as Supervisor / Co-Supervisor


I was labelled with the word ‘Paradise’ on landHowever, I lost the whole lot but never my land
My surface green, misshapen into a crimson rainHow could I revive the happiness again?
I lost my son, I lost my hearts’ veinI played friend to foe, and I shed the scarlet rain
I witness my waters reflect the bruised PalestineYou would spot in every street and stream the gushing pain
I enthralled the world with snow and spring rainI stood firm for my freedom yet to stones in the rain
When tyrants put my son to death, I wailed and cooked the painwhen my Noor (son) was sent to gallows, my eyes to dark even to vainMy son, a would be doctor, will serve his nation, I thoughtalthough, his dreams, Oppressor laid to rest as soil does to rain
Behind the bars, my son lamenting and sobbing in painIn the dead of night I witness him crooning freedom to every sane
Don’t tell me what happiness stands for Listen, it stands for freedom, and for freedom alone
Miserably I reduced to pieces when I observe my land it’s altogether shattered and crumpled in all planeIn every corner, grows a humming buzz, of the pale blue dotand nobody is even pondering for my bruised land
My Dal goes stagnant with maples withered bordering itIts finger foliage’s have breached down to the surface
I made tough efforts to grow the grains of peacewhile reaping the plants, my hands shed blood, with sterile beans
Oh world you are gifted with so called ‘Brain’Let me touch the lofty heights akin to an Avian

The author of this peom Irfan Bashir from a small village of District Baramulla kashmir presently pursuing MSC in Aligarh Muslim University Aligarh