with a tranquil smile
The glint in his eyes
Must be as bright if not less
than the stars that twinkle in the night
He tries to count them on his fingers
One, two, a hundred or even more,
But in the middle of the exercise
He is left perplexed,
What if he has counted the ones
The Jhelum so duplicitously
arrays as hers.
Or maybe that's okay
For in a place where heaven meets the earth
And the skies seem to merge into the shores
Like an exquisitely painted horizon
Who could claim if it was only the ether where the stars belonged
And when they dance like they do, moving in perfect rhythm
with each tide, to the tunes of the full moon
Goral's heart sings, moving in tandem with the waves
His hair rustle in alignment with the October winds
Completing the symphony
Like the triangle's final beat
He takes a deep breath
To fill his lungs with the sweet air
laced with the intense fragrance of the Chinaar trees
And closes his eyes as he is taken back
To the school playground in the juvenile summers
Playing cricket with Vikram, Abdul, Aziz and Rahman
And running gaily in the fields
His train of thoughts is interrupted
By the sound of a bullet going off in a distance
And his Amma calls out
Asking him to shut the window lest he get hurt again
Goral lets out a deep sigh as he picks up his crutches
And limps to his room
Heaven on earth, he muses
Hoping God returns to this place soon.
