The mountains, meadows and meandering streams.
The land is of peers, sufis and their mystics dreams.
Wanderers and warriors came exploring,
Witnessed this land, both love and warring.
Times were great with affluence, bliss and repose,
Heaven on Earth, it was named, antiquity knows.
From the far-off lands arrived Sufis, who endeared and preached,
In those times, zenith of its cultural grandeur and eminence, this land reached.
Abound was love in society and divisions were less.
Rare were instances of cruelty and excess.
Air was pure and scented and waters sweet and clear,
Four seasons blessed the land, round the year.
Inspired this beauty, bards and saints, like of Lal Ded and Habba Khatoon,
Blessed was angelic land, by Almighty’s exclusive boon.
Disgraced is its beauty, people would talk,
Rightly so, arrived on its doors, deadly conqueror’s walk.
Killed they mercilessly and savagery gained ground,
In these tough times, a King was crowned.
No respite to the people’s miseries, this change brought,
Into the vicious cycle of brutality, the masses were caught.
Time passed, Kings changed and time for independence came,
A line was drawn and two countries claimed their name.
Given the choice to join one, but the King decided to remain free,
The country on the west preempted and attacked the land with violent spree.
Overwhelmed and outnumbered, King acceded to the other,
For this divine land fought a violent war, embittered sons of the same mother.
Thrown were the invaders out and peace was restored,
Prosperity returned to the heaven and happiness scored.
But this came at a cost, a boundary was drawn,
Divided the families, few members here and others, on the opposite side gone.
Fought for this realm, two countries, number of times,
Conflict is on and tranquility has no visible signs.
Divisions created differences and perceptions of youth brainwashed,
Many lost their lives and the poor families squashed.
On the name of Almighty, they picked up the gun,
Not realizing the truth how great harm to their Heaven, they have done.
Like a phoenix, the land and its humanity will rise again,
To regain the old glory and discard the historic bane,
The brothers who left, will return to their home,
With freedom, in this heaven, every soul will roam.
Musings of a Wanderer 