By Mufti Jameel Farooq
When you are with friends who are so decent that decency stops before them, then one contemplates that one is blessed with the holy-light which falls on the only persons who are bestowed with the mercy of sovereign benediction—that some people though crave for but seldom get.
The Arabic quote that I once eyed which read, “A tree is known by its fruit, so is a person known by his friends”, has a resonance for me now.
The missile-man of Indian writes, “the best book is equal to hundred good friends, but one good friend is equal to a library.’
We, the three friends of college, decided to meet on the 25th of March, 2018. The day was not a customary day as that day, the gate of “Tulip-Garden’ was opened up; so , we the trio , decided to pay a visit since we hadn’t visited the congenial place; the place which soothes the souls and sieves the heart from grime and grunge.
So, we boarded our car and reached the Boulevard, from where it took almost one and a half hour to reach the destination which we were heading towards due to the traffic mess. With tiresome efforts, we finally reached the ‘Tulip Garden’ at around 16:30, but thankfully the garden was still let in.
As soon as we entered the garden, we saw many tulips in abundance; they were so much transparent which didn’t leave any stone unturned to make ones eye ‘transparent’. The tulips were surrounded by the beautiful and soothing mountains; the mountains would act as shield to those tulips.
When we entered the gate we were surrounded by so many people; the people who were there had worn beautiful smiles on their faces which otherwise is absent from the faces of people in Kashmir. I pushed myself to talk to some of the tulip garden visitors who were in the beaming with happiness. “We are coming here to smile; this moment makes us forget the pain and suffering we are going through since ages”, said one of the visitors. The question which I had posed them carried pain and suffering which I could overtly read from their face. “The war between two countries has eaten up my son; while looking at these tulips I get the joy which once I used to share with him ages and ages ago.” He added while gazing at the tulip as if venerating his son.
I could not ask him more questions and left soon since I too was the resident of Kashmir and my birth year was ample to apprehend what it means to suffer and lose a son, the son and the sons.
I too tried to forget the pain and tumult and moved hither and thither with my friends who were enjoying the soft music which was being played on big bulky woofers. Though, a friend of mine had his say against the music which was acting as a background like blue sky to the snow clad mountains or like green leaves on the apple tree. “When you visit nature, it has its own music which an ordinary person cannot hear.” He further added, “It’s the music of silence.”
As soon as he mimed the word ‘Silence’, I was reminded of the quote of Moulana Rumi:
“SILENCE IS THE LANGUAGE OF GOD
ALL OTHER IS POOR TRANSLATION”
The dusk was shrinking faster and faster, but the twilight was yet teaching something which big bulky books botch to bring in a person.
EVERY DAWN HAS ITS DUSK
We tried to enjoy each moment, thus each moment brought in us the bliss which Wordsworth would find in nature. We stopped every moment and tried to make them ever lasting on our DSLR- camera, as they say Camera is the only thing which stops the time and make the moments to recall with the same intensity as they were.
We didn’t only capture the moments but went live also on Facebook to instigate the friends to visit this beautiful garden of ours which keeps our head and brings solace to heart which otherwise has been pierced from every side from where nothing oozes now than blood. We finally left the garden at around 19: 15 o’clock , but before leaving I observed that people were thronging in the tulip gate to enjoy the benediction of this beautiful garden surrounded by beautiful tulips which were different in colour, different in taste, diverse in emotions and unlike in sentiments. I stared at the ‘Red Tulip’ which reminded me of the blood which I see most often on my streets and then I caught an eye on the ‘white Tulip’ which calmed me and gave me reprieve that someday we would visit the garden with full equanimity and tranquility then I won’t make the semblance of roses with the situation and my heart would be at peace to just observe and get fiddled in the world of Utopia where nature and I will be alone like Wordsworth and his composition.
“If winter comes can spring be far behind “
Singing the line in soliloquy, my friends and me left the gate of tulips with the question in mind:
“When a leaf falls from the tree during winter does it feel defeated by the cold?”
—The author is an M Phil student. He can be reached at: Mufti.email@example.com