A spec in the dust
raises a storm
of its sand.
Carries with the wind
a whistling whirlpool
of dying roots
and staple citrus rind.
An arid land,
thorny bushes and cacti.
Changing hues of the sky,
from blues to grey to tan.
Topography changing hands
where past and present blend.
Mirages of civilization
in the narrow alleys of palaces
tourists smitten by eerie fascination.
Copper pots and pans
women adornd with silver embellishments
men with overt masculine demonstrations
a culture entrenched in rich tradition.
Fascinated | Animated | Digital Enthusiast | Stoked by Ideas | Forever Abecedarian | Road Tripper | Smitten by Art of Storytelling | Tickled funny bone | Kindled by Random Conversations | ISB Alumna | Marketing Professional at Microsoft
Friday, February 12, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Srinagar Days
On countless occasions I have wanted to be inspired
Twirled a pencil
Doodled on paper
Stared at the laptop
and just when I wanted to send a "wassup?" sms I could not stop myself
Inspired in the parking lot... on a mobile
There I was reliving my stay in Srinagar!
An ivy covered bungalow
icicles of its roof.
Mulberries, cherries, apples, apricots, almonds, pears
and many other fruits,
French windows with a panoramic view.
A bed of strawberries,
A slope covered with wild lilies.
Pebbled backyard,
Lush green front lawns with brick boundaries.
A turquoise swing
and wanting puppies.
Magnificent Chinar tree,
generously lent its golden leaves to the entry.
Glass room with bukhari,
Overlooking the Pehelgam, Gulmarg pahadi.
View of Shankracharya from the driveway,
A kilometer from the gate which kept the militancy away.
A ninety degree drop over which I saddled over soldiers bikes
much to their agony.
Sworn to never cross the sacrosanct boundary
Sneaked a glance at boat houses on Jhelum
and its vicinity.
Frisked in school as a part of security, daily
The favorite friend’s secret corner- a pipe
along which grew bichu butti.
Two daily needs markets,
the owners of which one knew personally.
Our only associate from the Valley,
a Kashmiri shawl vendor Nur-u-din.
A small town cantt theatre
with a smaller gentry.
Huffed and puffed paddling,
triple knit handmade woolens,
A troop of soldiers to make our lives easy.
A neighborhood where we knew everybody,
A gardener's family held to ransom
to cause destruction to army premises
A life where entertainment was sans devices
Some stray thoughts on a random day
Of childhood memories, in Srinagar
the year I turned eight.
Twirled a pencil
Doodled on paper
Stared at the laptop
and just when I wanted to send a "wassup?" sms I could not stop myself
Inspired in the parking lot... on a mobile
There I was reliving my stay in Srinagar!
An ivy covered bungalow
icicles of its roof.
Mulberries, cherries, apples, apricots, almonds, pears
and many other fruits,
French windows with a panoramic view.
A bed of strawberries,
A slope covered with wild lilies.
Pebbled backyard,
Lush green front lawns with brick boundaries.
A turquoise swing
and wanting puppies.
Magnificent Chinar tree,
generously lent its golden leaves to the entry.
Glass room with bukhari,
Overlooking the Pehelgam, Gulmarg pahadi.
View of Shankracharya from the driveway,
A kilometer from the gate which kept the militancy away.
A ninety degree drop over which I saddled over soldiers bikes
much to their agony.
Sworn to never cross the sacrosanct boundary
Sneaked a glance at boat houses on Jhelum
and its vicinity.
Frisked in school as a part of security, daily
The favorite friend’s secret corner- a pipe
along which grew bichu butti.
Two daily needs markets,
the owners of which one knew personally.
Our only associate from the Valley,
a Kashmiri shawl vendor Nur-u-din.
A small town cantt theatre
with a smaller gentry.
Huffed and puffed paddling,
triple knit handmade woolens,
A troop of soldiers to make our lives easy.
A neighborhood where we knew everybody,
A gardener's family held to ransom
to cause destruction to army premises
A life where entertainment was sans devices
Some stray thoughts on a random day
Of childhood memories, in Srinagar
the year I turned eight.
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