This is true we have an innocent Jehlum among us, whom we love heartily. This is also true that it flows and often changes its hue from blue to red. Whatever the appearance, it flows quietly and culminates in the red sea, which we expected to be blue for us. That it can never be possible as much of the water has been flown from the nerves of Jehlum, unfortunately blood red which it emptied in the reservoir of the ocean now related to us.
The Jehlum, by what other name, it is called is akin to the people of Kashmir. Much of the tyranny has made it also oppressed and it carries our soaked history as a true friend from the times immemorial.
In our young ethos, we witnessed our youth being sapped of all the beauty that would befit it for the prime age. Our beauty of youthful days has got decimated by the chilly hands of the death, whose macabre dance filled us with horror. The death, a reality otherwise, could be in the tortoise speed otherwise, but its brazen dance and speediest mayhem has cast a blanket of senile era and gaga of gloom upon our face.
We see backwards, forwards, between our two hands and then dazedly in the dark arena we see, as if we are and were robbed of the delight of the life we were entitled to. Our Jehlum’s quietness reminds us that it has a vast expanse of love etched in its heart for us, so its stream goes on flowing and reminds us.
It told us that it witnessed the days, when we had to be capsized in the wilderness of chaos. Our freedom was being compromised. We had lived a free nation and our chastity was always made prey of the usurping eyes of the whales which didn’t allow us a wink of sleep peacefully. The partition of the subcontinent had proved formidable to us many ways.
It was Maharaja and we were free with him, still better to reap the taste of the nationhood. Though on his mental surrender to the surging of the wrath of masses he went to the native part of his fiefdom, wept and whitewashed the almost entire population of the faith of his opponent masses in the land of Jehlum.
But if according to the Independence of India Act , given birth to, by the English the land of Jehlum had the choice of acceding to any of the domains having come into existence on the Mid August 1947 the Jehlum valley at the hands of the hostile monarch it had preferred the land where his faith was surmountingly prevalent, at the behest of the tall ‘friend’ of kashmiris, who according to Shabnam Qayoom became ‘Reshma’s maternal-uncle and forced her marriage with ‘Ashok’ , not with Mehmood.’
The land of Jehlum witnessed the three conditions of this betrothal were denuded and all the conditions of the matrimony were imposed on this wedlock gradually. Though Shiekh Muhammad Abdullah once said : ” Hindustan ke saath hamney mutah kiya hai, nikah nahien”.
The avarice had pulverized the concept of ‘mutah’ here, and pseudo-autonomy by virtue of Article 370 and 35-A was enshrined in the constitution of India. It was first dazed in mouth when ‘ Sadr-i- Riyasat’ and Prime Minster were given funeral by the ‘handsome’ and ‘veracious’ G.M Sadiq. He ceded his own post of Prime Minster in lieu of chief Minster and threw open his gallery of cowardice and pusillanimity. The Jehlum frowned and flowed quietly. Article 370 has got rendered a hollow drum in which vacuum dances satirically.
The Jehlum is watching the fair-weather slogans, mismatching from time to time, and is in utter confusion even in its quietness. The Sweden syndrome with another pygmy called Raga has also been seen chaotic by Jehlum,when it hugged the Prime Minster and sometimes stabbed him. Jehlum is seeing, quietly.