My mental cartography of Kashmir
Have sketches.
That look quite alien.
With scale of blood that
Stretches.
And makes the whole map
Of memory, obnoxious.
No way normal, but of a child of conflict.
On the notebooks of students,
Reading under low volt bulbs.
Half hide in quilts of fear
in a room of curtains.
Disallowing passage of light through window panes.
In a country of conflict,
It is considered crime.
That students would read in nights.
Their schools are ash, their books ideological.
And teachers, dying.
Classmates, becoming orphans.
On routine basis. Leaving forever, their schools.
At its heart are its inhabitants
Living In the lap of Himalayas.
turning white snow red with blood
And labelled as horrible militants.
In official pronouncements.
Of state curbing the conflict.
