An ode to the LoC
We can never really rest easy
As long as we have this LoC
A flimsy line that divides the valley
Where a moment lost is a big folly
Firing across the shadow lines
Rich with deodars and pines
is a pity in a place so beauteous
when someone may suddenly shoot us!
Oh, Kashmir! The curse is on you
It’s a pity you caught the military flu
Artillery and mortar, shelling and guns
Is not good where flowers bloom by the tonnes!
Peasants and boatmen, traders and clerks
Mauled by a history of Dogras and Turks
Too much history where beauty should be
Too much culture where nature is free!
Where glaciers slide in gentle grace
Ought to be an enchanted place
Different gods should not really matter
Where Nature seems like God on a Platter!