A poem by Nayeema Ahmad Mahjoor
( Author and journalist)
I sit here in hiding,
In the ancient trunk of this Chinar tree,
Which you used to compare to the Cave.
Where, for three hundred years,
No one can touch you,
And an eternal sleep descends.
I know not if it is the desire for sleep or the longing to see you,
But in the darkness of this hollow cave,
I have been thinking for centuries.
And those blood-red Chinar leaves
Mock me!
I scratch the blisters on my feet, hoping perhaps
To find your reflection hidden within them,
And then to ask you:
Why did you not come this time either?
To hide in the trunk of the Chinar,
Just as you came three hundred years ago!
When, with countless dreams in your eyes,
You held my hand.
Indifferent to the world,
Far from home,
Breaking every custom,
leaving behind your own people,
You had resolved to go to Jihad,
And I, wrapping myself in my veil, kept my vow of loyalty!
But you did not come now.
Not even your shadow returned,
Nor did that phantom ever come back,
The one you used to scare me with!
Even after three hundred years have passed,
I have not stepped out of this cave.
I have no coin with me,
No hunger remains,
Nor any desire to look upon
