Return to Paradise
What a feeling was it to think about my home and home city
Finally! I was seated, my baggage was secured, and we were about to take off. Where to, you ask? Home. Srinagar. It had been two long years since I last visited, a trip which had been marred by countless strikes, protests, and innocent deaths. But now I had returned.
I settled back, took out a newspaper, and proceeded to read the day’s top stories. Only I couldn’t concentrate. Out of nowhere, a lump formed in my throat which refused to be ignored. Hiding behind the shade of the news, I allowed a single tear to graze my cheek. Where was this coming from?
My heart was troubled throughout the flight, struggling to understand the sudden emotions overcoming me. When the captain announced we were to land soon, I clamored to the window, as if attempting to grab hold to pieces of my paradise through the glass. When we landed, the dam broke and my eyes became flooded. I struggled to compose myself as we taxied to the end of the air strip.
As I exited the aircraft, the all-too-familiar sight of the lone military man greeted me, his shiny rifle slung across his chest. I made my way towards luggage claim and spotted my grandfather. Taking no heed of those around me, I ran across the crowded room and more or less skid into his arms. I felt my eyes grow hot once more and my voice faltered as I returned his greeting. It felt good to be back.
The weather was pleasant as I made my way outside and into the waiting car. My mind was in overdrive, frantically trying to capture as much as it could all the while holding a conversation with the other occupants of the vehicle. Why had it felt as though I had never left? A sort of excitement bubbled inside of me. There was so much I wanted to do. I wanted to shout to the heavens, skip across the road, talk with every passing individual. It was as though I had been infused with a sensory-heightening drug that made even the smallest speck of dust something to behold.
When we pulled up to the house, I bounded out of the car and entered the premises. The familiar scents of my favorite blossoms wafted my way as I dropped my bags on the porch and ran inside. I dashed up the stairs to my room, and found everything as I had left it. My novels, my notes, my thoughts. All were waiting for me. I had to make the best of my short time here. I had to sow the seeds of change, to get others to start thinking beyond the boundaries set in place by the government, by society, and by themselves. But where to start?
(The author may be contacted at www.koshur.weebly.com)
Lastupdate on : Fri, 17 Aug 2012 21:30:00 Makkah time
Lastupdate on : Fri, 17 Aug 2012 18:30:00 GMT
Lastupdate on : Sat, 18 Aug 2012 00:00:00 IST
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