I and My Mirror
Yesterday I looked into the Mirror. Tears rolled down my cheeks until silent sobs turned loud cries.
Mirror: Why are you crying?
I: It has been a year or so that I haven’t been home. I miss every aspect of life in Kashmir. Today I couldn’t hold back that is why I am crying.
Mirror: Then you should go, spend some time and come back.
I: I wish I can but I don’t want to. My region was free and now it is under the tight grip of occupational forces who seized it by deceit.
Mirror: So where you want to go instead. Do you have any place in your mind to visit?
I: Home is where your heart is at peace. My heart isn’t at peace though but my heart is in Kashmir.
Mirror: You can absorb in me and I shall take you to some amazing places and you could find some comfort.
I: Will there be my dad waiting for me with a glass of water?
Will I get hugs and kisses?
Deep, serene sleep.
Shall I see happy & blissful faces?
Will the phones work, cars run?
Can I see my kith and kin?
And there won’t be bruised mothers,
Raped sister and trapped youth.
Will there be desolate roads?
Will there be food to eat and medicine to heal?
Would doctors be allowed to move or beaten with an iron fist?
With all my questions, my mirror cried and I became silent as dead because I know there won’t be a place like my Kashmir.
I: Now tell me why should I leave a place where I grew up
With my friends.
With my family.
Playing on those dusty lanes and by-lanes.
With soiled clothes & muddy hands.
With green grass & pink lotuses.
How to forget its unpredictable weather?
Incessant rains, thunderstorms & hailstone,
Green Almonds, juicy apples & apricots.
Everyone asked Lisbeth asked so asked my dearest, Jill.
I would say east or west, home is the best.
Mirror: I have no words but I can say I feel your pain, so have me and cry as much as you can.
I: Thank you, so much for you back and this pat.
Sumera B. Reshi