POETIC OCEANS 2

I heard stories of my family travelling on horses as we were inhabitants of the mountain valleys of Kashmir.A bride had to ride a horse to reach her destined home.I also heard about donkeys carrying loads and people covering distances on foot and later on bicycles.Then I found myself in a new country with new cars and as a child of five or six I had had a ride in Chevrolet.In old photographs I discovered these special photographs and they prove the love and popularity of the new travelling inventions. My Father with his official vehicle as Director Medical Services Northern Areas Pakistan Willy's Jeep 1950s  My sister Rashda (now Dr Rashda Firdaus MD Cleveland)in front of a Morris Oxford in the 1950s at Rawalpindi.The car belonged to Dr Shafiqur Rehman one of father's class fellows and friends, a frequent visitor. We four sisters  at Gilgit in the 1960s with Toyota Jeep CJ5 .The only vehicle suitable for travel on the roads in the Northern Areas of Pakistan.Father was posted ...

Ah! constant struggle, yet   Cannot reach the flower  because of the thorn  crawling and twisting  trembling, climbing   Up the tender twig,   of wings the insect   is shorn;   sorrow seeps sinks   what does one feel?   Battle, blatant killing   fields and one thinks   why are there flowers,     steel and splinter showers?     'as flies to wanton boys'     are we, the human beings     toys?  In the minds     of sinners and sinning?     When will love again     Be born?     O’ Innocent or knowing  Insect, do you know the Way?     We are lost and gone astray         O Lord, if only I were one-     I would just creep and crawl     nor scream nor moan nor  be forlorn   ...

We used to play and sing and Watch and share 'most everything, We used to taste sweet  lemon drops hunt  treasures  with  sorted props; We used to play  hide and seek behind  the bushes and  the trees; We used to sit on the walls and  talk and play hop scotch drawn with chalk; We used to build castles in the sand and act like pirates with the one eyed band; We used to read stories of wonderland and sing and dance in our little fairland We used to look at the far off stars  unaware of  the terrifying wars;        We used to find love and care         peace and happiness everywhere           We used to …but wait…         I will tell  you more, if it is not too late.

Post 1948 Kashmir StateWar This is the Official Residence Backyard of the 2nd in Command Officer of the Combined Military Hospital Rawalpindi Pakistan-the newly Independent State Migrating from Kashmir,land property was lost but not the culture and traditions Kashmiri Meal 'WAZWAAN ' is being prepared here. The meat is beaten till white, curd is commonly used mostly meat dishes with boiled rice are enjoyed  The Year is 1956

Christmas Time, Christmas Time and  Prayers, Prayers for peace, a peaceful refuge, Welcome Light, with lights on trees, Green and white, in coloured deluge; Décor delight diversity diverted; All hope one, all call one, All pray one; Life to begin, or life , to cease? Christmas Time, Healing Time and Tremors, Tremors of blasts, killing blasts, Farewell Love, with flags on caskets Red and Blue, in deathly solitude, Sacred silence spirit severed; All around flowers, all fresh now All withered now, none in baskets; Christmas Time Christmas Time and Salvation Salvation, for every nation? Salvation Eternal, end of turmoil in blood and sand, c rimson and cream, a moaning scream, a shattered dream? One for one, each kills one, one by one, till none is none. Christmas Time, Christmas Time and Love; Love for All, a Tolerant Love, With Gifts garlands and Gatherings, Silver and Gold, Young and Old, the Brave and the Bold, Weak and Strong...

And then I see you, not your image, but you yourself outlined, smiling quietly, you descend - I wait , trying to comprehend your vision- your thoughts take a form and enter my world forlorn, I have no way to stop or hold the charming intrusion, I just feel the emptiness, filled with silence, cold- I reach out, only to touch Nothingness- Behold! I am engulfed in the fold of a soft serene essence tender, misty , comforting, a sense unexplained, untold is it real or is it a dream I think, I try , I begin to cry and drown into a tingling numbness. Ah! Love's First and Last Visit