Written by Kokila Gupta
Of pastel arrays, of water-lilies
And fields of cardamom spice
Of gurgling brooks by a windmill,
The Palanquin carrying beautiful brides
Purple carpet of saffron blooms
Amid Jasmine scented hills
Rainbow palette of brocades,
and peacock feathered quills
Of graves under the Chinars
Lost lullabies, songs of spring
Of desolate banks of Jhelum,
Deserted orchards swings
Heal my plundered valley once more,
Take crimson out of silver rills
Breathe in the whiff of hope in the burnt charred air ,
And childhood’s laughter unbridled
O Lord! Let me wake up
In her lap of honey green gold,
Her bodily scents intoxicating me,
Old stories under mulberry trees retold.
