Water dives down, then guffaws
on a dark rock, where in the rapture spray,
he holds her arm to hook it on his shoulder.
Far away from the melancholic mist,
they fathom the depth of peace
in a serene stream in God’s own country.
As the sun sometimes disappears for sometime,
their faces fade, for his cart with apples
rolls again on the terror tarred road,
and her canoe with lovely flowers
floats again in a bloody lake ;
for they see their valley sown with mines,
where the cruel eyes await the horrible harvest.
Saffron sun hands the scepter over to the oil lamps,
near which they enjoy a rural dance
on an open stage under a banyan tree.
The dancer’s face gradually grows grim
in tune with the music of a drum and a cymbal.
And the finger signs draw in the air a sad saga,
which widens this Kashmiri woman’s eyes.
They pack the pearls of peregrination to return
the valley where missing targets extend lifespan.
FABIYAS M V
Background of the poem
Kerala, a southern most Indian state is known as God’s own country
for its natural beauty and serenity. Kashmir , a beautiful valley with lakes,
often misty , is in the northern most part of India. Being on the sensitive
Indo- Pak border, Kashmir valley often faces terrorist attacks, infiltrations
from Pakistan, gun fires etc. This poem is penned, inspired by a Kashmiri
couple’s visit to Kerala.