[email protected] Majeed

Few days back, I had a reverie while strolling on Bund. I saw Jhelum’s serpentine movement below bridging the gap: the gap between two Kashmirs; the gap between separated loved ones on both sides of wall. And yes, the gap of one homeland. But then, I was told: reveries are forbidden fruit, better not taste them. I soon ended trance and disappeared beyond Chinars.
Few days back, I had a reverie while strolling on Bund. I saw Jhelum’s serpentine movement below bridging the gap: the gap between two Kashmirs; the gap between separated loved ones on both sides of wall. And yes, the gap of one homeland. But then, I was told: reveries are forbidden fruit, better not taste them. I soon ended trance and disappeared beyond Chinars.
And then my steps led me into the garden full of flowers and fragrance. The sun was shining, but bees weren’t hovering around. Birds too were silent. No mortal was inside the garden. I paused and pondered over the irony. “Garden is full of life, yet desolated,” I thought. But soon Aga Shahid came to my rescue: They make a desolation and call it peace.
And then my steps led me into the garden full of flowers and fragrance. The sun was shining, but bees weren’t hovering around. Birds too were silent. No mortal was inside the garden. I paused and pondered over the irony. “Garden is full of life, yet desolated,” I thought. But soon Aga Shahid came to my rescue: They make a desolation and call it peace.
I returned to Bund. Sun was setting. And in the middle of Jhelum, boatmen were heading towards home. The scattered red around submerged my mind into the memories of that afternoon in 1995. That day I saw human blood flowing through open sewage channels. Then I was hardly 6-year-old, when I saw my neighbours being slaughtered. My mother cried a lot that day. She sobbed and hugged me as red scenes had unnerved me. I dread red since then. So I walked away.
I returned to Bund. Sun was setting. And in the middle of Jhelum, boatmen were heading towards home. The scattered red around submerged my mind into the memories of that afternoon in 1995. That day I saw human blood flowing through open sewage channels. Then I was hardly 6-year-old, when I saw my neighbours being slaughtered. My mother cried a lot that day. She sobbed and hugged me as red scenes had unnerved me. I dread red since then. So I walked away.
Next day, I saw mud all over the hands of my little sibling. She was cut off from her surrounding while planting that yellow flower. I wonder, why only yellow? But that glimmer of hope in her amber eyes said it all. She chose yellow as it is a colour that creates enthusiasm for life. It awakens greater confidence and optimism. Yes, she has a hope...
Next day, I saw mud all over the hands of my little sibling. She was cut off from her surrounding while planting that yellow flower. I wonder, why only yellow? But that glimmer of hope in her amber eyes said it all. She chose yellow as it is a colour that creates enthusiasm for life. It awakens greater confidence and optimism. Yes, she has a hope…
To paint hope, I stroked brush on canvas. This time I wasn’t in the middle of reverie. I was visualising and projecting Kashmir sans concertina wires. Hope was only ascending and racing towards crescendo. And then, like that Italian genius, Leonardo da vinci who brushed out masterpiece Monalisa, I painted out my masterpiece. I portrayed the valley (breathing free) on canvas.
To paint hope, I stroked brush on canvas. This time I wasn’t in the middle of reverie. I was visualising and projecting Kashmir sans concertina wires. Hope was only ascending and racing towards crescendo. And then, like that Italian genius, Leonardo da vinci who brushed out masterpiece Monalisa, I painted out my masterpiece. I portrayed the valley (breathing free) on canvas.
And few days after, I was heading towards hills. This time my stopover was Ladakh. In that cold desert, where grey, blue, and brown shades dominate, I look for green. I look for a symbol of the master healer and the life force. But the road in the middle seemed endless. Surroundings seemed sans green but full of saffron. But I wasn’t disappointed. I had hope in my eyes.
And few days after, I was heading towards hills. This time my stopover was Ladakh. In that cold desert, where grey, blue, and brown shades dominate, I look for green. I look for a symbol of the master healer and the life force. But the road in the middle seemed endless. Surroundings seemed sans green but full of saffron. But I wasn’t disappointed. I had hope in my eyes.
After dusting miles, I spotted a field full of green. I punched in air jubilantly. After all, I wasn’t an obscure optimist. And then, I touched green and felt the velvety touch of nature. In the far end of the field, adjacent to towering peak, I saw a hut overlooking me. Heaving with hope, I peeked inside and found a farmer sitting at one corner. He was drenched in sweat. His hands soiled and his forehead folded. He smiled when my shadow fell on him, and he said: “We sow hope here. The same hope, which is reflecting from your eyes.”
After dusting miles, I spotted a field full of green. I punched in air jubilantly. After all, I wasn’t an obscure optimist. And then, I touched green and felt the velvety touch of nature. In the far end of the field, adjacent to towering peak, I saw a hut overlooking me. Heaving with hope, I peeked inside and found a farmer sitting at one corner. He was drenched in sweat. His hands soiled and his forehead folded. He smiled when my shadow fell on him, and he said: “We sow hope here. The same hope, which is reflecting from your eyes.”
As I came out, I saw sun slowly slipping behind Chinars and Peaks. That crimson shady sky wasn’t scary scene anymore. That old dread had sublimated. I was sighting a new dusk. And I was hoping for a new dawn with new beginning. “Hang on a second, mate,” I was interrupted by dear pal. “You seem riding mindlessly with hope. Have some reality check. It is no utopia.” Awakening from his side, you know. But I refused to hit back old track. “Naysayer,” I concluded.
As I came out, I saw sun slowly slipping behind Chinars and Peaks. That crimson shady sky wasn’t scary scene anymore. That old dread had sublimated. I was sighting a new dusk. And I was hoping for a new dawn with new beginning. “Hang on a second, mate,” I was interrupted by dear pal. “You seem riding mindlessly with hope. Have some reality check. It is no utopia.” Awakening from his side, you know. But I refused to hit back old track. “Naysayer,” I concluded.
And then, in the dead of the night, I opened the window of my abode. Moon was posing behind bushes. There were no sounds around, except beats of longing emanating from my throbbing heart. In those of hours of solitude, I lifted my eyes towards sky. It was all light. I couldn’t withstand the gaze for long. And soon, I lowered my eyes, only to glimpse garden full of graves below my balcony
And then, in the dead of the night, I opened the window of my abode. Moon was posing behind bushes. There were no sounds around, except beats of longing emanating from my throbbing heart. In those of hours of solitude, I lifted my eyes towards sky. It was all light. I couldn’t withstand the gaze for long. And soon, I lowered my eyes, only to glimpse garden full of graves below my balcony
In the morning, I head towards woods. I hugged towering pines, as if in longing. I didn’t break free myself for hours. I was there in the company of green gold. They aren’t enough now in our terrains. They fell to greed. They fell to search. They fell to security. They are being axed by marauders. Somebody, please break the ice before they would create desert out of deserted valley. Hope we have, but mope we haven’t, yet!
In the morning, I head towards woods. I hugged towering pines, as if in longing. I didn’t break free myself for hours. I was there in the company of green gold. They aren’t enough now in our terrains. They fell to greed. They fell to search. They fell to security. They are being axed by marauders. Somebody, please break the ice before they would create desert out of deserted valley. Hope we have, but mope we haven’t, yet!

(Aadil Majeed is Srinagar based MBA passout from SSM College, who loves to click abstract images)

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