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Koshur Music

An Introduction to Spoken Kashmiri



Chiselled Words

I said
"I offer you words."
They said
"They are useless."
I said
"I sculpted them. Take them."
They said
"They have lost meaning.
Give us new."
On the street
I saw
a scarecrow laughing
the bent huts.
The wise hang from
paper-pegs on the walls.
From the shoulders
I shook off
noisy phantoms.
With horrid faces
they danced like mad.
I sat still
on the balcony
and watched all.
Everything was pell-mell.
But soon
a soft murmur consoled me.
I snatched
the cloth,
the sunny spot
and the mirror reflecting virtue.
They are my help.
I heard a call
"What do you desire?"
I said
"Give me words,
the miracle of words.
Give me
the springs of love,
the grey dawn,
basketfuls of flowers,
the dancing shy moon,
fragrant colourful dusk.
They will wash the pale earth.
and cover it with 1ight.
I have to sweeten
stale conscience
light lamps in the dark meandering
the thinking to walk through them."
Once more
I chiselled words
embellished them.
Then I said
"Words, I have given you life.
Come out of the prison afresh.
Old canons don't become you."


WAVES by Arjan Dev Majboor


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