Inner voice

I Wait for a Peacock

All mornings, slow and unending
I spend breathing the air’s freshness,
Feeling the roses’ aroma
Talking to grass green
And listening to fruit trees:
Thanks to the lockdown.
Lazy afternoons
I spend under a loquat tree:
Eying my fruit’s youthfulness,
Wondering when they ripen
And fall into my lap.
Thanks to the lockdown.
There is now a koel in my neighbourhood,
A squirrel in my lawn
A lizard or two in my kitchen garden.
Shrikes and pigeons fly through the day.
I now wait for a peacock in my backyard.
Thanks to the lockdown.
Pramod Jain
Former Senior IAS Officer Jammu

YEARNING FOR MY ROOTS

In the clock back,
Those were the balmy days
of late summer,
aromatic apple orchards
waiting to be plucked up,
spreading its blanket of
shade-bewitching me,
chirping of “katteijj” pacifying
my wild heart,
deep deep mystery behind the “yaarii kull” and” fraess’t” alluring me at every turn,
gulping down the “doon- gooj”-
mesmerizing my taste buds-through
the bracing breeze blowing.
Out of the blue, a turbulent
boom was overheard;
chills ran down my spine,
rushed towards my “mouj”,
hinding me under her “pheran” and
bolting all the doors,
she kept me safe.
We were uprooted,
the land of heaven transmuted
to a land of misery;
humanity was drowned,
death was raining,
not a man left standing,
tears rolling down the cheeks,
blood spurting out everywhere,
corpses rolling down the streets,
not a soul left to tell the tale.
Balmy days were overtaken
by the ghastly smells,
my orchard is now a burial chamber,
my house is crushed to smithereens;
ears are pierced by the cracking
sound of guns,
I am now alarmed by the
woods that haunt me everytime
I drift my eyes over them,
It was the dark night 19/01-
anxiety was at its peak,
no hope was in sight,
not knowing what is waiting for me,
I left my house pinning a hope
that in the fullness of time,
I will hark back.
Ah! I am desperate in my exile.
Yes, it is #30 years.
I crave for my “Resh-waer”.
Can I revert?
Roopanshi Bhat

A PRAYER FOR CORONA

Oh! The Maker of Adam, Eve,
Oh! The creator of creation.
Pay a heed to mine petition,
Show thy mercy on my nation.
I admit that we are sinful,
I confess we are ungrateful.
We were careless by Yer affirmation.
Show thy mercy on my nation.
Give a concert of forgiveness,
Show Thy Good heart by willingness.
Bestow the ailing Yer medication.
Show thy mercy on my nation.
You are helper of powerless,
You the feeder of hungry one.
You nurture the whole creation.
Show thy mercy on my nation.
I beseech Thee to descend Thy saviours,
In the name of Thy Holy Spirit.
And for those who got your admiration.
Show thy mercy on my nation.
That to theworld from All ills redeemed,
With eyes sunk in water of despair.
And with heart heavy with desolation.
Show thy mercy on my nation.
Oh! God come to rescue of those,
Whose efforts have now ended in remorse.
All with regret bow your domination.
Show thy mercy on my nation.
For you being the most merciful,
With all strength of earth and heaven.
Bow down for the help of creation.
Show thy mercy on my nation.
Nighat Naz
Gups Halaran Doda

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