listen to my winter…

Chalee Bhi Ja, jarsay gul kee sada par Naseem
Kahin tou kafla -e- Nau bahar theray ga

Translation:

“O wind – go when the song of the flower buds call out to you….
The Caravan of Spring will stop somewhere”

Spring and Celebration.

Flying kites and dancing in the fields.

Drinking cold lassi and eating hot buttered Naans.

Poets write about spring…they say the Caravan of Spring will stop somewhere.

“Really? Will it?” I ask you

“Spring always comes” – you say.

“I have a problem.”

“A problem with Spring?” you ask

“Yes.” I say.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because before Spring there is Winter. You can’t have one without the other.

What bothers me is when you don’t give me the space to talk about the winters of my life….You become quiet. As if you are uncomfortable with my pain.

How can you have one without the other? I ask…