The Santoor speaks through the river

I wrote this poem in December 2002 before leaving for Jammu and Kashmir.

I begin a journey on the morrow,
A land of beauty 'n' manmade sorrow,
Where life's in nature's lap but not secure,
Even under an open azure,
The santoor speaks through a river
As gunfire makes the soul quiver,
So you ask me now, where are you off to?
To Kashmir! Oh, and also to Jammu,
A land of green trees, white snow and black fear,
But anyway, wish you a Very Happy New Year.

(c) 2002, Shaunak Agarkhedkar
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