Sumayya Syed
From his lonely South Delhi bachelor pad
On what is a thinly-veiled moonlit spring night in Kashmir
Where loneliness is an A
Almost an invitation
To Resistance,
Because what is Resistance
If not the thyme and the garlic and the asafoetida
Of every conversation
The seasoning
Of seasons
When in Kashmir, do as the Kashmiris do:
Salt your tea.
But when in Delhi,
That megalo-monstro-city of smog and noise,
“I have had a crush on Nikita for quite some time now and she’s going on a date tonight,”
The epicenter of the urban Indian nightmare
All one can do is buy a counterfeit currency of freedom
But in Freedom’s hometown, Kashmir,
The counterfeit and the genuine embrace
In multiple languages of loss,
A Tower of Babel
Gunshots,
Wedding songs,
Pre-dawn prayers,
“Youth workshops”,
Twitterstorms,
Chants of azadi,
Everything
Dissolves into the memoried void of silence
Another notification:
“Prof Siras: How can you millennials reduce an analog feeling like love to a digital yes/no question?
Millennial: Semiconductors.”
It’s not rocket science, love
Throw a stone at it
If it breaks, it’s a heart
If it explodes, it’s an Occupation.
We at Kashmir Lit suspect Summayya Syed is based in Kashmir; ask her and she says she has no clue [Editor]
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