A hundred and twenty five days of solitary confinement

This city stretches tired legs, drapes curtains
of silence over those she disdains tonight.

The candles are lit, dinner is ready, bring wine
we’ll marinate our anger in love tonight.

Do you remember how we met? Did the moon
unspool into questions as she does tonight?

death is no stranger to this land of fixers,
we must be discreet in our protest tonight.

Dogs howl at the dwindling light, tread with care as
You tiptoe through the winding bazaar tonight.

A browser window is the needle that tells
me that it is too late for mourning tonight.

When the soul flies from the body’s cage, do not
flinch, a heart of fire beats elsewhere tonight.

A son mistakes his childhood for a stone. The
valley is midwife to azadi tonight.

What is this parody of separation?
I cannot be a silent witness tonight.

The gates of the promised land must remain shut.
Hold my hand. Let us be gatekeepers tonight.

*Written 125 days after the abrogation of article 370 that gave special status to Jammu & Kashmir. A period of curfew and complete lockdown ensued, with an unprecedented communications gag on the entire region.