By Jaspreet Kour Bali
Beloved Homeland ,
Do you remember the day I was ousted from the place I once considered mine? My heart aches to this day when I think of being forced to leave the place I once considered my home.
When I first came across your beauty, every other beauty in the world faded. Nothing could be compared to the love I shared with you. Did you forget it this soon? Or do I remember you for too long?
I closed my eyes, and the first thing that comes to my mind is you. Yes, you! Do you think I’ve forgotten you? I remember you in every breath of mine.
The Dal is turning green, and the houseboats are getting wrecked. Who do I blame for the destruction of my home? I poured my everything into the valley I once lived for. Today, I’m left with nothing but questions that do not let me sleep. So, do I blame those who polluted it? Do I blame those who encroached upon it? Or, ultimately, do I blame myself for letting it get away from me?
Oh, my homeland! Have I been too harsh on you, or have you made me harsh by letting me go?
Perhaps, I have blamed you for the distance, while you—I don’t know yet. The distance made me close enough to recognise the ache of being left.
The chinar leaves are going brown, and the pathways where I saw myself bleeding for the sake of your return remain. There is not even a place left where I didn’t call for you. The soil where I made so many dreams, the soil I want to keep with me forever.
How can you be so selfish, my homeland?
Do you think I still look for you? I do. I still carry your soil with me.
Did I wrong myself with so much pain that you could no longer recognise me, or did you recognise me long enough to make me suffer?
I carry a gentle hope in my heart that, in the evenings of the valley, you still call me; that, in the flowing of shikaras, you want to meet me.
The leaves of chinar, you whisper to me. The wonders of yours have left me a gentle breeze which I believe will be enough.
Enough to make me believe you’ve not forgotten me after all. Do you think I’ve forgotten you?
Maybe I’ll love the homeland forever, but I’ll forever hate the ones who ousted me from the place I’ve loved forever. Maybe I’ll sow small flowers in the valley of your garden, but I’ll forever despise the ones who destroyed the only homeland I wished to have.
The separation from you, my homeland, turned the world I lived in upside down. Since then, I have felt a strange pressure in my head, one that eases whenever I part my lips, as though even my body has not learned how to live with this separation. There is a strange nervous breakdown that I could not recognise. Will I carry this forever with me?
