All I dream of; Kashmir

All I dream of: kashmir,

red chinar of autumn,

yellow mustard of springs,

warm peace,

no bitterness,

a pinch-sweet happiness

All I dream of: kashmir;

white snow;

hot kangri;

dark Kehva;

bright safron.

My soul wants to go ‘home’,

‘it is’, of which, every beat longs.

In the moments,

when I’m forlorn,

it is, those streets in which I still roam.

And I dream and I long,

sometimes of red chinars,

and sometimes of safron..

And it goes on and on;

Kehva tastes bitter,

and Kangri no longer keeps me warm.

I dream of Kashmir,

the place, once I called my home.

What else left then,

to just dream,

to just long.

PS: My GrandFather, Pt. Arjan Nath Misri used to narrate bed time stories, which revolved around the place we called “Kasheer”, when I was a kid. Now he’s too old to even talk but still when I remind him of the times when he used tell us all kids those stories which were, though more or less fictious, and were more about the place then about the people and characters, a mystic smile jumps on to his face, followed by a deep seriousness in his eyes. Being unable to talk anymore he just stares straight, may be remembering about the place and past. And it is now that I’ve realized that all those stories were actually the expression of his longing of that place. I tribute this piece of worthless words to him and his silent longings which he suffered in his meekness and never complained..

March 21, 2013