The sparkling beams of the easterly sun
Fell on the placid Jhelum
Where , eternally rooted
Stood many houseboats
With hues bright , not muted .
The garrulous boat owners exchanged notes
Mainly the silver haired one who was consistently funny
Under the azure skies sunny.
A bird did a courtship dance
On the window of our ancestral house
Sending me into a trance.
Another merrily wheeled around in the sky
Happy my siblings and I
In our ancestral house in Kashmir.
Was it hanging by a slender thread ?
I often thought, filled with dread
Into the Jhelum it would fall
Wooden beams , pelmets , curtains and all.
Yes , it was rickety, and looked droll.
Red -cheeked kids with running noses
Down below , struck different poses
For the foreign tourists who flocked
To their houseboats , with joy rocked.
Dad renovated the ancestral house
Calling it 'The Relic.'
No, now it wouldn't fall
No longer did it look droll.
A hand painted wooden board on the ornate gate
Followed the naming ceremony
The blissful surroundings throbbed with harmony.
The board sparkled with a happy glow
Down below, the Jhelum did merrily flow.
"How's that?"
A lusty shout of a tiny cricketer rocked the sky.
And the sky a clear blue
Suddenly turned a sinister hue.
Bleak and heavy, it hung low over the earth
Threatening our mirth.
Cloud -racks scudded past
On a sky over cast
The placidity now a cacophonous rhyme
Dark the clime.
The loquacious boatmen were struck dumb
Shoulders hunched, hearts numb
Even the silver haired boatman , consistently funny
Lost his voice , his wrinkled face no longer sunny.
The Jhelum turbulent, no longer vibrant.
On the window sill the bird no longer danced
No tourists inhaled the beauty , entranced .
Our house was now a relic indeed
Singing a requiem to a dream gone awry
In climes gory
Somewhere, in the distance
A song burst out from an anguished heart
flooding the surroundings.
I watched the westerly sun sink
Hoping it would again rise to a new day
Infusing a new life in the Relic.
Fell on the placid Jhelum
Where , eternally rooted
Stood many houseboats
With hues bright , not muted .
The garrulous boat owners exchanged notes
Mainly the silver haired one who was consistently funny
Under the azure skies sunny.
A bird did a courtship dance
On the window of our ancestral house
Sending me into a trance.
Another merrily wheeled around in the sky
Happy my siblings and I
In our ancestral house in Kashmir.
Was it hanging by a slender thread ?
I often thought, filled with dread
Into the Jhelum it would fall
Wooden beams , pelmets , curtains and all.
Yes , it was rickety, and looked droll.
Red -cheeked kids with running noses
Down below , struck different poses
For the foreign tourists who flocked
To their houseboats , with joy rocked.
Dad renovated the ancestral house
Calling it 'The Relic.'
No, now it wouldn't fall
No longer did it look droll.
A hand painted wooden board on the ornate gate
Followed the naming ceremony
The blissful surroundings throbbed with harmony.
The board sparkled with a happy glow
Down below, the Jhelum did merrily flow.
"How's that?"
A lusty shout of a tiny cricketer rocked the sky.
And the sky a clear blue
Suddenly turned a sinister hue.
Bleak and heavy, it hung low over the earth
Threatening our mirth.
Cloud -racks scudded past
On a sky over cast
The placidity now a cacophonous rhyme
Dark the clime.
The loquacious boatmen were struck dumb
Shoulders hunched, hearts numb
Even the silver haired boatman , consistently funny
Lost his voice , his wrinkled face no longer sunny.
The Jhelum turbulent, no longer vibrant.
On the window sill the bird no longer danced
No tourists inhaled the beauty , entranced .
Our house was now a relic indeed
Singing a requiem to a dream gone awry
In climes gory
Somewhere, in the distance
A song burst out from an anguished heart
flooding the surroundings.
I watched the westerly sun sink
Hoping it would again rise to a new day
Infusing a new life in the Relic.
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