Whispering Loud!

                 The pitter-patter of rain will not lull a Kashmiri to sleep for a long time. For the last two decades we have been touched by almost every shade of tragedy but, not even in our barren dreams did we contemplate that the paisley patterned life-line, roiling itself through every part of the valley, would turn lethal in such a manner. We never saw the scalpel; we never thought it would dagger our hearts . With a new chapter in The Book of Betrayals and river Jhelum as a new conspirator, Kashmir, yet again stands cursed! Believe it or not, we have factually seen it all; the worst of the worse and our quintessential resilience has prepared us as a populace, which has learnt to carry on with life rather exuberantly. Many say our cheerfulness is contagious. May be it is. Our grief, however, always has been our own. Non-contagious. Private. Oblivious of the despair that awaited us all, we embraced September with ope...

I nurture the nestlings and I caress the wings; I fashion the flights and I shapen the lives. Many a thoughts I romance, for I design the dreams; Many a skills I poetise, and thus the dark gleams! I embrace the frail and I unfetter the brave; I polish the rough and I neaten the naïve. Many a boats I anchor, for I brave the storm; Many a blades I steer, and thus shelter the lorn! I capture the dawn and I conquer the twilight; I unravel the mysteries and I enlighten the night. Many a cries I hear, for I bosom the maladies; Many a lines I smoothen, and thus scatter the smiles! I foster the frightened and I frame the fearless; I raise the leaders and I build the Nations. Many a roles I play, for I teach ; Many a souls I touch, and thus I breathe!