Homeland after Eighteen Years - A 48 hour Travelogue

K L Chowdhury
11 12
Homeland after Eighteen Years
Yes, if we desire salvation
from the tragedy that besets our land
we need Lalla’s divine vision
to tread the path of self-introspection
and cast off the baggage of ignorance.
I see a short stretch of a new driveway
with young Chinars in the divider,
and a new generation of poplars on the sides,
as old as my absence from here.
As we go down the airport plateau
there is no evidence of fall yet,
but dull grey and green leaves in decay,
while new constructions come into view
where paddy fields once held sway –
private residences built in style,
shopping malls flowing over the pavements,
new mosques in green with crescents,
their minaret’s spiking the sky,
and school buildings
rising many floors high.
What a mix of education and religion!
The streets are rather sparse with peoplesome
in skullcaps, long shirts and shalwars,
others bearded, chatting on the shops.
Because it is Friday afternoon,
the driver explains,
people are resting after the prayer.
It also happens to be the third Eid
(the hangover lasts a full week here);
and the call by the Hurriyat
(that conglomerate of many-hued separatists),
for Monday march to Lal Chowk
has cast a pall of fear in the air.
O, where are the fiery Chinars of October,
where the bracing breeze,
and where the sweet nip in the air?
Am I too early in the month here?