On her frail shoulders, the threads of Pashmina talk. Of a valley, of heaven, of a moonlit night. Demure, she froze amidst the discordant noise, Charred bodies around her, her flesh and blood died. On moonlit nights, hence she walks barefoot on the snow, Suffering within and out, I can listen, what her silence speaks out loud. Deranged, Demented, She drags her body around, Unaware, Listless, what she has lost can never be found. I call her, whenever she passes by me, I have been piling up sorrows as debris. Come! My child Let me hear your pain, Let me soothe your wounds, Let me jostle your soul, So you shed a tear. I know your pain, I have done all this myself, And I have been there. This poem narrates the sufferings of women who lost their families in Kashmir Valley. *Disclaimer - Title is inspired by Sonnet 30 of Shakespeare.
It’s all about creating magic in words!

One Feels divine experience in Himalayas !! Great Words
ReplyDeleteI agree. It's heaven on earth.
DeleteWell said!
ReplyDeleteBahut sahi kaha 👍👍
ReplyDeleteShukriya
DeleteVery nice.
ReplyDeleteThanks
DeleteA perfect description of Himalayas in so few words!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, sir.
DeleteIt's humble magnificence!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jaishree.
DeleteLovely depiction Saru!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Saurabh.
Deletenice one
ReplyDeleteThanks
Deleteawesome ! isn't that heaven !
ReplyDeleteIt is indeed.
DeleteHeaven!
ReplyDelete:)
DeleteI can totally visualize what you mean. Have been to places where the only sound I could hear was the waves hitting the sea shore or the sound of birds chirping nearby. It was truly beautiful.
ReplyDeletePeace in few words :)
ReplyDelete