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This poem was published in The Chakkar in February, 2024.


I draped the pashmina shawl today

that once wove patterns in wool

entwined with our half-embroidered longings –

now long drowned and buried

under memories of the click-clack of my knitting needles,

steaming kahwa, and crackling logs

on a cosy wintry night in Kashmir.


The shikaras peddled our dreams

amidst the floating hyacinths and lotus leaves.

Hope glistened on the peaks afar

while the russet dunes of chinar leaves

formed a gentle duvet for our fiery yen.

And while it snowed outside all night long,

I listened to the silence of your heart

humming a hundred amorous tunes.


Then the snow melted, and your passion thawed,

The glades burst into a tapestry of bloom

mocking the thorns pricking my heart.

I made a bouquet of fresh green sprigs,

pinned with a crystal tear drop

and beads of frozen scarlet droplets.


Walking through the pines and deodars,

I placed it on the ashen grave

that cradled the corpse of my callow youth.

PC: Sidharth Singh on Unsplash


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