Her tears may drown us... by Asif Sultan Matta
Her tears may drown us.
Asif Sultan Matta
22-November-2015
A feather in our cap; a great reason to boast about; a milk stream in our owned paradise, without which it is empty and sheenless- Yes Dal Lake. It is what we proudly feign about--- we may not call it a flowing milk stream in the paradise, cause' lake doesn't flow, but it doesn't adorn and deck it less than that shining white stream. Mountains, hills and hillocks beside it would have been colorless and barren without this lake in their lap. Lulling this beautiful inlet causes them brighten more and reflect their beauty more. Dal-Lake serves as the sun to shine our moonlike valley. As sun sets, its water mesmerizes every beholders eyes and gives them a healing soothe.
Ah! More's the pity that we, the custodians of this beautiful chunk, leave no stone unturned in its defilement. This sacred lake in the paradise is secrileged by those who represent it as holy by deeming its dwelling location as a paradise on this planet. The dirt and filth has ruined its sacredness. We are poisining the delicate baby of mountains, which is perfectly catered, fed and taken care by its beautiful mother- the mountains. And in return this baby cools and balms its mother's eyes. I'm afraid of its mother's wailing; I'm afraid its tears, which may drown us all and deluge the valley by its baby's defiled blood. They, mountains, weep; they cry; they mourn and may be cursing the invasions by us of snatching its pampered child from her, by depriving her of its love and to care for it, who was embellishing it better than we do.
Alas! We crave for paradise, yet we ruined its beautiy. Perhaps we long to abide in hell not the beautiful paradise- as it is evident by what we've been doing with it...
Asif Sultan Matta
22-November-2015
A feather in our cap; a great reason to boast about; a milk stream in our owned paradise, without which it is empty and sheenless- Yes Dal Lake. It is what we proudly feign about--- we may not call it a flowing milk stream in the paradise, cause' lake doesn't flow, but it doesn't adorn and deck it less than that shining white stream. Mountains, hills and hillocks beside it would have been colorless and barren without this lake in their lap. Lulling this beautiful inlet causes them brighten more and reflect their beauty more. Dal-Lake serves as the sun to shine our moonlike valley. As sun sets, its water mesmerizes every beholders eyes and gives them a healing soothe.
Ah! More's the pity that we, the custodians of this beautiful chunk, leave no stone unturned in its defilement. This sacred lake in the paradise is secrileged by those who represent it as holy by deeming its dwelling location as a paradise on this planet. The dirt and filth has ruined its sacredness. We are poisining the delicate baby of mountains, which is perfectly catered, fed and taken care by its beautiful mother- the mountains. And in return this baby cools and balms its mother's eyes. I'm afraid of its mother's wailing; I'm afraid its tears, which may drown us all and deluge the valley by its baby's defiled blood. They, mountains, weep; they cry; they mourn and may be cursing the invasions by us of snatching its pampered child from her, by depriving her of its love and to care for it, who was embellishing it better than we do.
Alas! We crave for paradise, yet we ruined its beautiy. Perhaps we long to abide in hell not the beautiful paradise- as it is evident by what we've been doing with it...
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