Taught as we talked
Held the hand, as we walked
Told to dream as high,
Don’t fret in case you fell by.
For I shall be here, looking over
Will catch you, else see you fly and hover
The same words now took a turn,
Ask to mute, left to yearn.
Fly alone, caged the dreams,
No regret, no try to see,
The weeping kid who was made to believe,
Glorious tales of courageous men made to relive.
Unstoppable by any force on way,
Now battling with the same faith.
Told to dream as high, said
Looking at the same love now, in dread.
I had been hearing of constant references to Kashmir, whenever anything about heaven was spoken of, endless lauds of its majestic beauty and serenity. What was in this place that two nations have been battling furiously for decades over the ownership of this land, kept me inquisitive till I finally got to witness it myself.
A major zone of conflicts in India, the state of Jammu & Kashmir has troops everywhere, with guns and a vision of suspect at all times on them. It’s kind of frightening to have that kind of constant presence of force over you all the time.
Nevertheless, the trip was a life altering experience for me. Srinagar has a fragrance that I can never forget. And howsoever amusing that might sound, gallivanting through the lanes of the city in a car, witnessing the soothing surrounding, the cultural habitancy of the place, the enduring built of houses, everything about the city feels like a walk down heaven. The place honestly felt like a literal mesmerizing depiction of the term.
Moments spent on a shikara at Dal Lake shall stay with you forever, as reminiscence of a time where you witnessed serenity and absoluteness of nature.
The man, who knew how to look at the sky
Notice the peculiarity of time passing by
Feel the depth of words in verse
Savour the lights and sounds in rehearse
One who never saw the mountains high
Yet spoke of its beauty, acquainted with each stone in its might
Didn’t see paintings as just work on the wall,
Music as an alibi for boredom at all
For he had his own outlook to the world
Nevertheless different, yet completely unheard of
Art was his muse, and words his weapon
A new perspective, awaiting a take over the cosmos.
Perhaps, that’s what
Makes one silent
Incapacitated to speak
When upset, inside dying
For they are incapable of lying
And, telling the truth.
How lights find their way into every celebration.
Every tale been told many times
What different can I put in this rhyme
Craving and yearning for something more,
How to feed this relentless lure
Irreplaceable history to adore
Splendor at its best in every oeuvre
Works of legends to inspirit,
Succinctly murmuring me to quit
Then I look to people around,
All the same, yet different to sound
Classic inspiration in nature’s way,
Beauty of differences in similarities lay.