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Kashmir Quotes

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Kashmir Quotes

“Blinking and it's dripping, the wet eyes The cold tears or foggy breath Pitter patter, but the melting one The deafening silence, shining My amusement, my curtains The cold, behind the landscape The conscious of aftermath Missing, night lamp lighting A symbolic gesture, raising my arm My bewilderment, this work done The cost of life, my uneven quilts These slurks of cold air, slowly entering By and by grabbed, a handful of curtain Failed to judge, the end of same Eventually, discovered the light Flashing my eyes, my un-dilated pupil The pane partiality covered, but visible The range of Bimar Narsar, like a bride It's blanket of white, flashing everywhere It's been snowing throughout the dark”

“South Indians are a diverse group of people with diverse cultural traditions, including rich temple architecture, unique cuisine, and vibrant classical dance forms. They are often characterized by strong family values, a deep respect for culture and religion, and a reputation for hospitality. Ordinary Kashmiris have immense sympathy for people from South India, even though they may not understand the South Indian language. Many Kashmiris have an undying respect for people of all faiths in South India.”

“Kashmir issue was created out of fear, mistrust and animosity and it should be solved through courage, trust, and friendliness. It should be solved from the ground of development of brotherhood, education and prosperity and not from the ground of religion, terrorism or military actions. It just needs more character, more courage and more compassion.”

“night has enveloped, to give me some relief now invisible are walls of separation, and thy grief where blood quenches the thirst disloyalty is faith last and first is the religion my beloved belongs to I beckoned, red and black robed lady with a wand let me take her by the hand heard of her about sorcery her powers useless, and witch now about to succumb from just a gaze of eyes filled with Kohl of Leila my nights worthless, body breathless every moment, feeling restless be silent and hear, hear me, my cries don't forget the promise you swore I have lost my childhood over you don't know, how these years left me alone sufferings, separation, theft me alone I never knew how pain excrutiates sometimes, i enlivened you my dear Love is a blessing, and not a fear in a melancholy cloudy day, I mourn glistening eyes, weeping sky, and heart torn I gaze from a window in Kashmir For a moment, condoling the tragedy, sighing In sombre time, lifeless, as if dying”

“I thought maybe if I looked ugly and less pleasant, the men would not look at me and I'd be safe. I wouldn't wash my face for days. I didn't want to look attractive in any way, at all, lest it invited undue attention and that indescribable guilt. I wanted to somehow become invisible.”

“Srinagar is a medieval city dying in a modern war. It is empty streets, locked shops, angry soldiers and boys with stones. It is several thousand military bunkers, four golf courses, and three book-shops. It is wily politicians repeating their lies about war and peace to television cameras and small crowds gathered by the promise of an elusive job or a daily fee of a few hundred rupees. It is stopping at sidewalks and traffic lights when the convoys of rulers and their patrons in armored cars, secured by machine guns, rumble on broken roads. It is staring back or looking away, resigned. Srinagar is never winning and never being defeated.”

“There were people dying everywhere getting massacred in every town and village, there were people being picked up and thrown into dark jails in unknown parts, there were dungeons in the city where hundreds of young men were kept in heavy chains and from where many never emerged alive, there were thousands who had disappeared leaving behind women with photographs and perennial waiting, there were multitudes of dead bodies on the roads, in hospital beds, in fresh martyrs' graveyards and scattered casually on the snow of mindless borders.”

“N O T H I N G I would like to write one of those sophisticated stories in which even though nothing much happens there’s lots to write about. That can’t be done in Kashmir. It’s not sophisticated, what happens here. There’s too much blood for good literature. Q 1: Why is it not sophisticated? Q 2: What is the acceptable amount of blood for good literature? y”

“But you have no understanding of the depths of Kashmiri duplicity, Musa thought but did not say. You have no idea how a people like us, who have survived a history and a geography such as ours, have learned to drive our pride underground. Duplicity is the only weapon we have. You don’t know how radiantly we smile when our hearts are broken. How ferociously we can turn on those we love while we graciously embrace those whom we despise. You have no idea how warmly we can welcome you when all we really want is for you to go away. Your thermometer is quite useless here.”

“Why are people okay with not walking? Does Father not miss his daily walks to the shrine and his shop? What about Mother and her long walk to her parents' home? Does Bobeh not get bored now that she can't kill time watching people walk on the streets? What happened to my sister who lived her life outside; going to college with her friends, walking long distances to make umpteen visits to her tailor? I miss playing hopscotch on the streets. I miss walking in the courtyards and the run to buy kyencza. Why can't I play hide-and-seek in with Mogli's daughter in our courtyard again? Who walks in the by-lanes, on the bridges, outside the school? Who can walk to the bakeries? These are not built for walking.”

“Could represent a bio-inspired, eco-friendly or stealthy aircraft—elegant and efficient. Ginkgo trees, native to China, are highly valued for their longevity, resilience, and cultural significance, and are often called the "tree of youth". They have been cultivated in China for thousands of years, particularly in ancient temples, and are known for their ability to thrive even in harsh conditions, making them symbols of hope, longevity, and peace.”

“Monsters do exist, but dolefully, they aren’t as appalling as portrayed in horror movies. They have very human physiognomies and oft have lived all too human lives, sporadically pronounced by conflict, antipathy and pain, but not always denuded of endearment. Humanity may not perpetually be able to prognosticate who among us will turn out to be a monster and why but after witnessing the barbarities and villainies perpetrated by 'the notorious ogres' on the innocent populace, the resolve to avert such trepidation in future must be strengthened.”

“If you could go anywhere, where would you want to go?” “Could we find a map of someplace perfect?” “Like paradise?” I asked, teasing. “Here? No.” He stared upward, the first stars shining in his eyes. “A better place. Someplace where nothing goes wrong. There must be a myth like that somewhere.” I bit my lip; my shoulders fell. “Navigation involves the beliefs of the Navigator and the mapmaker. And I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who truly believes in a world without suffering.”

“Partition tore India into three pieces. Disaster struck. There was East Pakistan, there was West Pakistan, and there was the rest of India. Millions of people were uprooted from their houses, tens of thousands massacred on both sides. It was one of the greatest mass migrations and killings in human history. People today do not realize the tremendous trauma of Partition, whose negative vibrations continue to haunt us even today.”

“Poet's Note: Kindly do not use my poem without giving me due credit. Do not use bits and pieces to suit your agenda of Kashmir whatever it may be. I, Srividya Srinivasan as the creator of this poem own the right to what I have chosen to feel about the issue and have represented all sides to a complex problem that involves people. I do not believe in war or violence of any kind and this is my compassionate side speaking from all angles to human beings thinking they own only their side to the story. THIS POEM IS THE ORIGINAL WORK OF SRIVIDYA SRINIVASAN and any misuse by you shall be considered as a violation of my copyrights and legally actionable. This poem is dedicated to all those who have suffered in Kashmir and through Kashmir and to not be sliced and interpreted to each one's convenience. ---------------------------- Weep softly O mother, the walls have ears you know... The streets are awash o mother! I cannot go searching for him anymore. The streets are awash o mother with blood and tears, pellets and screams. that silently remain locked in the air, while they seal our soulless dreams. The guns are out, O mother, while our boys go armed with stones, I cannot go looking for him O mother, I have no courage to face what I will find. For, I need to tend to this little one beside, with bound eyes that see no more. ----- Weep for the home we lost O mother, Weep for the valley we left behind, the hills that once bore our names, where shoulder to shoulder, we walked the vales, proud of our heritage. Hunted out of our very homes, flying like thieves in the night, abandoning it all, fearful for the lives of our men, fearful of our being raped, our children killed, Kafirs they called us O mother, they marked our homes to kill. We now haunt the streets of other cities, refugees in a country we call our own, belonging nowhere, feeling homeless without the land we once called home. ------------- Weep loudly O mother, for the nation hears our pain. As the fresh flag moulds his cold body, I know his sacrifice was not in vain. We need to put our chins up, O mother and face this moment with pride. For blood is blood, and pain is pain, and death is final, The false story we must tell ourselves is that we are always the right side, and forget the pain we inflict on the other side. Until it all stops, it must go on, the dry tears on either side, Every war and battle is within and without, and must claim its wounds and leave its scars, And, if we need to go on O mother, it matters we feel we are on the right side. We need to tell ourselves we are always the right sight... We need to repeat it a million times, We are always the right side... For god forbid, what if we were not? --- Request you to read the full poem on my website.”

“Curious Oriental imagery was employed in these documents. In one of his earlier letters the thum asked why the British strayed thus into his country 'like camels without nose rings'. In another letter he declared that he cared nothing for the womanly English, as he hung upon the skirts of the manly Russians, and he warned Colonel Durand that he had given orders to his followers to bring him the Gilgit Agent's head on a platter. The thum was, indeed an excellent correspondent about this time. He used to dictate his letters to the Court Munshi, the only literary man, I believe, in the whole of his dominions, who wrote forcible, if unclassical, Persian. In one letter the thum somewhat shifted his ground, and spoke of other friends. 'I have been tributary to China for hundreds of years. Trespass into China if you dare,' he wrote to Colonel Durand. 'I will withstand you, if I have to use bullets of gold. If you venture here, be prepared to fight three nations - Hunza, China, and Russia. We will cut your head off, Colonel Durand, and then report you to the Indian Government.”

“Kashmir was ignorant and, therefore, unaffected of the happenings taking place behind its lofty mountains. No social or political upheaval was permitted to cross the sky-high and colossal walls of Kashmir. It was mainly because Dogra regime was loyal to the British Government and proved its loyalty in the difficult and testing time of revolt 1857.”

“The whole Happy Valley, indeed, lay beneath me, and I could trace my former journeys, and those yet to come, march after march. There lay the broad expanse of the Wular Lake, with its little island in the middle, where is the ruined temple of the Serpent God, its winding bays and far-stretching promontories; and I could follow for league and leagues the sinuous reaches of the Jhelum, and the other rivers that bring fertility to this fat land from the surrounding mountain snows. No wonder the old conquerors from over the desert northern highlands waxed enthusiastic when they looked down first upon the fair, well-watered vale, and hailed it as the earthly paradise.”

“Indian army camp has picked up civilians of Panchayat banghia from thana mandi area & are withholding information about them. Nor are their worried family members being allowed to see them at the camp who fear for their lives because of the Topi episode where civilians were tortured to death in custody. Request @manojsinha_ji to intervene before a similar tragedy strikes these poor families.”

“Beauty, I am coming. I am on my way. I have not forgotten your fragile pastries. The ridges on your leavened bread. Half-eaten pomegranate in General Sahib's fridge. Cherries so big they redden Rubiya's hands, Irem's fingers. Kashmir, you are real. You are my half-chilled soup, minced cilantro, my zaman pilaf. Bittersweet chukunder. Rista. Aab gosht. Gurdé Kaporé. Kidney and testicle curry. Kaléji. Sheermal. Lavasa. Tsot. Maythi paratha. Kabuli chana. Nargissi kebab. Tamatar muli. You are a sudden red mirchi. You give me pleasure and pain, both at once. You are my dream, my desire. My North, my brain. My pounding headache.”

“Sonnet of Kashmir Mindless nationalists of India shout, India is the greatest nation. Yet atrocities done in their backyard, Make them a symbol of degradation. Most Indians have no idea, How it is to live under occupation. Yet when it comes to the land of Kashmir, They won't make any concession. How can you reason with a deluded bunch, Who value sovereignty over people! They have their comfort and luxuries, Who cares if we lack even life's essential! Where land is more precious than life, There lives no human but termite.”

“The occupying countries, the three nuclear forces, have put everything not on the people of Jammu and Kashmir, but on the beauty of this land of Jammu and Kashmir. They want to occupy this land, not human beings! The day when the three occupiers, Pakistan, India and China, any one of the occupiers tried to conquer the people here, then positive results can be obtained, hatred can be erased, but it is not possible for the three occupiers to have anything to do with the people here. No, but it should be green land”

“The primary infrastructure projects facilitating a Kashmir-Central Asia Economic Corridor via Kashmir are the Zojila Tunnel and the Z-Morh Tunnel. These projects are crucial components of the National Highway 1 (NH-1) expansion, designed to provide all-weather, year-round connectivity between Kashmir and Ladakh, ultimately targeting improved access to Central Asia.”

“What is fear, when you are no one Who killed nothingness , with a dagger of emptiness Traversed the agony, for being alive One who crossed the country, is a no man Death is a reward, for a renegade The separation, the life, other syndromes The unification is a dream, unachievable The eyes saw them in distant, untouchable What can't be achieved, will be asked The "ask" for a longing in the life How to spread the life, to walk over For the life, i can't ask, to the death for a dream -Mohammad Hafiz Ganie”