If I were born among books and guitars?
And fed with honey gleaned from wheat
If I had grown up among children singing
and whirling dance circles in twilight?
Among smiles stolen with the drowning nights
Secrets pilfered in nimble moments out of raw lips
And fondling caresses shared in maize crops?
Among festivals that celebrate with madness
The innocent erotic throbs of hearts
And release moaning like musk into silence of nights
How much I regret all those walls of time
Which kept me away from trumpets
That beat and shake earth behind running devils
who paralyze electric tremors in limbs
Contaminate spirit with carbon
Clog blood ripples in excited bodies
And hold away all sensual designs from nights
How I curse all those marbled monsters
All those scriptures which carved rules across weary hearts
And banished away angels and delights
Who poisoned aesthetics of love?
Who blighted music of instincts?
Harbingers of malaise and decay!
Demented vultures of life!
The writer is a journalist from, Kashmir and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org