Lost World Poem by Mohammad Saif

Once again as I walk on the boulevard
Of the Dal Lake
On a genial winter November evening,
I see the same evening routine
Of people of the valley
And ponder still how it has all changed;
Though, the physical impalpable materially.
Petulant mind insisted
And I was transported--
Back to the marvellous times
Which my elders would recount.
Times which are frozen in the pages
Which I never had experienced myself
But knew from people and books
And could always relate to.
When its people breathed fresh air;
When they were not afraid
To move out unrestricted;
When Dal was pristine, untainted, untouched;
When the ferryman to his fares
Would flaunt his talisman
And transfer unique knowledge
Through his incredible tales.
Times when it was all harmonious.
As I come back I ruminate
Sensing the diaphanous breeze
The irreparable damage inflicted upon it.
How it appears all calm on surface
But boiling with anger from within.
Besides its ostensible beauty
Adept at enchanting
A man's heart even today
I see Kashmir, melting away.