Sometimes, but only sometimes, it is important to pay tribute to ones s own! After having had to leave in the most traumatic of circumstances on 8th September, marooned in the floods, my parents are returning to Srinagar on Thursday to be there with all those who were not as lucky as them, and to rebuild what is possible. In 1991, an attempt was made to kidnap my father by a militant group, we never left! In 1992, I was there when there was repeated cross firing across our garden, bullets embedded in my great grand fathers portrait as just one evidence, we never left! This is our home, our land, we shall never leave!! Recalled a poem we we learnt at Burn Hall: Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath neer within him burnd, As home his footsteps he hath turnd, From wandering on a foreign strand! If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no Minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonourd, and unsung.
Posted on: Tue, 23 Sep 2014 13:54:51 +0000
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