Nikhil Azad
Maybe
one day
we’ll meet in Srinagar—
where the Jhelum forgets
its habit of ferrying
craniums of sleeping children,
and Kashmir
is no longer
a bruise
pressed into my father’s throat.
where curfewed women
don’t cradle
the stench of bones
mourning their lovers,
and children
no longer wait by rusted doors
for abbu*
whose shadows hang
like damp shawls
in monsoon corridors
of Dal Lake.
* Abbu is the name for father
Nikhil Azaad is doing his bachelor’s degree in Journalism and Mass Communication. He is a native Kashmiri born and brought up in Delhi.