Chenab, I ask

Life is what happens to me
Between spells of longing;
That my tears know while smiling.

Our memories are not for drowning
Even if you close your heart
And shut us out; they stay afloat.

You may carve the shape of my soul
Or draw my destiny
Upon a coffin in a Jammu summer
Covered sinfully by snowflakes blessed.

You may disown me with a furtive smile
While you sit atop a mighty mountain;
But I shall preserve the heritage

Heritage
Seen or unseen,
But ever vintage
Of our relationship now broken

On my prayer mat in an Akhnoor village.
I will always see
Rocks that you have carved
And the shadows lighting your curves.

Under the influence of too many Bacardis
And high on essence of raw power
I forgot to ask you
Who am I? What God is mine?

Are you the damaged Idol
Or the Idol who did the damage?
A tragic victim of your own geography
Or a terror on the rampage?

Dropping a Gulmohur petal
Into your waters troubled,
My ears wait for its echo
Like true believers
And my heart longs for the answers
And my heart longs for the answers.