By Fida Hussain Sodagar
A tormented paradise is in the embrace of a white veil. We call it “Sheen”. Others call it snow. Sheen or snow, it remains to be a metaphor of a white blessing. A tempting sight is what meets the eye. The flakes of snow falling gently dancing like the petals raining from the sky longing to die in a wonderland. The beauty of silence is encrypted in every fall of a white petal. It is a white magic that buries the wounds of the paradise. Our bruised Souls and hearts are soaked in a perturbed calm. That is our Kashmir; a land blessed with limitless tragedies and battered natural beauty. We are bruised, still blessed. We are devastated; still we can be joyous in the love of beauty of our land. Our hearts are dead; still they beat in ecstasy for the beauty of our paradise. Everything imitates acuity of a fairy tale.
The warmth of relicense and patience of people of the valley melts the snow into drops of pearls. The generosity implanted in Kashmir makes the cold snow as a warm blanket. Snowflakes melt to disguise as drops of rain in the hope to witness the rainbow of solace and peace again. The Smiles of tender souls of the valley creates a sense of being lively. The birds sing the lyrics in praise of the white majesty. The waves of conflict freeze in the breeze of frosty snow. Words precipitate into emotions. That is the beauty of Sheen. It unites the souls in torment. In search of Solace, we are breathing the fragrance of snow. The burning land in rigorous heat is drenched in the lap of white mantle. We search peace in the rain of summer, the glory of autumn and the snow of winter.
The snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.
I stood and watched by the window
The noiseless work of the sky,
And the sudden flurries of snow-birds,
Like brown leaves whirling by.
(James Russell in the First Snowfall)
We are blessed with the persona of patience, resistance, relicense and above all the natural beauty. That is what makes our existence and breaks our pain inflicted relentlessly. We find a piece of peace in serenity. As the snow melts gently and softly, the happiness of the Kashmir fades away. Another blood bath in summer, a red autumn and a consolation of winter that is the cycle that unfolds. The beauty of nature that Kashmir is blessed with is a treasure till eternity.
The author holds a P.G in Mass Communication and Journalism and writes on various issues. He can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org.