Salaam, I hope the days would be bright and the seasons quite serene at your place. You know mother, Today I took my pen to write the hardest of truth happening at your home. Now the sun doesn’t rise as it used to, the morning chirp of the melodious birds now go unheard, the day remains more enveloped in the dark clouds than in bright sunshine, the sun now shies away and people call it sunset, night isn’t known for dreams anymore but the insomnia is something that is more. The plight of this restless heart I want to convey you as no one can understand me so nicely as you.
Mother! The time since I have opened my eyes in this world full of charm and beauty I have grown up watching how in your garden blossoms turn to flowers but from few years why so many turn to weeds whom we want to pluck off, rather than keeping along. You know now eyes have become dry and the hearts have turned to half a pound weighing stone. It’s hard enough to even carry it along. Mother you know well, the garden looks beautiful when the trees are well enveloped in the pleasurous color green, flowers seem beautiful when petals are spreading eye pleasing colors, and the green carpet spread for miles but now this is no more accepted. Now your garden loves to stay naked as the if autumn has taken off the pride. Mother now the preference has turned around, withered tree and barren land is all that is looked upon. These aren’t the orphan words but the tale how the pride of your garden is being laden with dust and a termite of doubt has made place to heart asking “Do you still belong to the valley of the saints” ?
Mama, I have many questions and they all have the same origin, Modernization and Westernization. Dear, I don’t understand these two newly developed civilizations. You have taught me, that modernization should be in thoughts, in views, in the way of communication but our society is changing, I am disturbed, I can’t understand, I am frustrated. Mother the people who are simple, who wear Salwar Kameez are not modern any more. They are treated quite differently by the society. You know when I visit a shop with big names I am not being attended as the modern people are, although I hold quite hot crisp bucks in my pocket. You have not taught me real modernization. Mama if my brother would not have gifted me the new cell I would have not been treated well at the shop, thanks to Khalla she called at the right time and the salesman got an eye on the phone and he placed the racks down. I can’t understand this kind of attitude, this is irking me. At one moment we remain no back to quote Ralph Waldo Emerson – “Nothing is more simple than greatness; indeed, to be simple is to be great.”; Leonardo DA Vinci – “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.”; Douglas Horton – “The art of simplicity is a puzzle of complexity” and many others but at second moment we forget all in the fantasy of the gimmicks played by the society.
“Hidden under the curtains for the entire life, Simplicity paid as the last rites were carried through midnight.” — AN
Mother I don’t understand what are we waiting for? Our culture has changed all together. Today marriage is not celebrated as the union of two souls in our place but for the advertisement of wealth. The more the sounds of crackers are heard, the more warm pockets the owner has. Even though sometime the case is all together different the owner is drowned in the loan but no, he has to show the world how rich is he or should I say society is provoking him to do so. Yes! It’s the society which is responsible. Mama, It’s me, it’s you and it’s us who are responsible for such things.
Mama, why we remain quite to what we see around? Why we have blindfolded our eyes as we sit in the bus? As we walk through university gardens? As we go to different public places? Mama! kuch samaj nahi aaraha (Mother! I am not able to understand anything). Mama can’t we change it? I can’t see the land of the saint’s turning to land of devils? Mama, please guide your children. Please ask the your people to think over it. Please.
Mother! My hand is tired enough and heart overflown with pain and regret. I am dropping my pen over here and hoping for you to hold me in your lap again. I want to sleep and dream of the old beautiful garden where the innocence of the child was the lonesome treasure, where the shyness of the girl was here only jewel, where the truth of the heart was the word of the tongue, where the song of mother was the most mesmerizing sound to the ear and the food cooked by her was the real delicacy. Mama, take me back to that paradise and wake me when our garden would have turned same. Love you Mama
Thank You Mother.
Your’s loving daughter.
PS: Mother is no other than my motherland “Kashmir”. I am addressing to our MOUJ KASHEER.
Published in daily newspaper Rising Kahmir.
Also published on Kashmir Forum but with a little change in the name.
Letter to “Maej Kasheer”