When the Shikaras stir my pristine waters and create ripples of life, I smell serenity, stability,

inspiration with a whiff of vulnerability and menace.

When my loaded orchards add different hues of love, passion, celebration and flourish my
lands embracing the wrath, perils and the outrage with pride and grace.
The swarm of travelers shroud the mysterious silence that fills my air and for a moment,
making me forget the heart wrenching past with their transitory commotion,
I choose to steer away from the Melange of emotions.

My Pir Vaer, my valley of saints, where Sufism painted the hearts with, love, compassion

and humanity,

Where hands carved out magic with novel crafts,
no one spoke of caste and hierarchy.
I proudly flaunted my sprawling drapes,

woven with the fibres of camaraderie, culture, language and festivities
Who changed the colour of my sky and made my waters murky?
Who mercilessly amputated my own extensions?
When I could not stop the inexorable exodus of celebration,
I chose to steer away from the melange of emotions.
I was beleaguered and attacked
my own goaded by foreign hands,
How did we fail to sense their masked intentions?
that coiled our lands with the barbed wire of hatred,
tightening the noose, penetrating into me, rupturing.

When it was beyond me to see my scars of laceration,
I chose to steer away from the melange of emotions.
Chained by the law, my borders sealed me, alienated me,
Clipping my wings, limiting my horizons.
The sojourn of life here had a tuberous fate,
My fictitious wall had no open windows or gates.
Every face had a story, a tale of melancholy,
it was normal to live with aberrations.

When all my land was sown with the seeds of intoxication,
I chose to steer away from the melange of emotions.
The masterstroke of abrogation that shook the valley,
Slashing the dense, opaque matrix.
The matrix of power, the malign and vicious motives,
self thriving agendas, camouflaged exploitation
The accepted deprivation and the unaccepted devastation.

Now the seasons must change, so the shades of my valley.
The curse of darkness must begin to fade.
The blur in the sky and Kashmir’s eye is must clear,
I want to see my snow-clad mountain tops
Standing tall and proud,

music of the oars steering the shikara through my lakes,

I want to hear it fearless and loud.

The young mind is unleashing, I can sense the reassuring breeze,

I want to feel alive, I want to breathe.

With increased vigil, protecting me day and night with exasperation,
My soldier, my saviour, my armour has put me at ease.
Yet there are turbulent days, there is unrest shaking my faith.
Then, I ask myself, is it a dream or hallucination
And choose to steer away from the melange of emotions.
My resilient laity, inundated with zest and fervour
Have overcome the cruel strokes of infamy
The waves of terror the insanity ripped lives apart
But failed to shake the indomitable spirit
It is the strength of my soil that is in their making
I laud them and pose all my faith in my invincible,
Ask them to rise taller, stronger bonded with tenacity
bury the burden of our macabre past, lift the loads off our chest and rise

Let’s write a new story, lay a new foundation
Let’s embrace the melange of emotions