Sheltering Memories.

Over two decades ago on a Saturday morning,

We were off, just as the Sun began shining,
Two friends and I with my mother in charge
To explore the greens of Lalbagh by and large.

A short climb up the stone hill,
Rushing downwards was a playful thrill,
Walking along the lotus pond,
And waiting for touch me not plants to respond.

A gigantic tree towering over us with shade,
With words etched upon its bark that refused to fade.
We climbed its trunk and scaled the boughs
A tree which had seen many an unfulfilled vows.


A lot has changed since that Saturday morning in the park
Some friends remained, some relatives stayed
Yet the only entity that made its mark
Is an old tree that watched as history was being made.

Children of Gurez

 Far away in the midst of the snow clad mountains,

Exists a piece of land descended from the heavens
Nestled in the valleys in tiny hamlets,
Amidst flowing streams and rivulets

A meadow of green in the warm summers
Myriad hues during the monsoon showers
A carpet of snow beside the melted glacier,
Each day was a new chapter for nature.

Little ones who grew up in these lands,
With no gadgets but snow and flowers in their hands,
Away from the chaos of distant sands,
With only basic needs and no lavish demands.

A shepherding life for the summers,
A dormant life for the cold harsh winters,
Little ones living in a far away land
Where life has a different story planned.

In the midst of man-made borders and beliefs,
That only give rise to dispute and grief,
Children with their pure innocent soul,
Perhaps bear the heaviest toll.