By Fahad Shah
In my heart your words reverberate, the heart beats jingle to the rhythm of your poetry. I read you as you wrote the treasure. I try to map a path to your heart. The generous human which you were. I lost you when I didn’t know you well. I am unfortunate that I couldn’t see you, that I couldn’t meet you, that I couldn’t hear you reciting your treasure
Shahid, today I write to you from your very own vale- Kashmir. Of whom you were the beloved witness. You loved us all. You wrote for all. You read our sufferings to world, you read our history to world, and you read our occupation to world. Shahid, some might forget you but here we are from your vale, gathered today, remembering you. Remembering what you left behind. Remembering what you wrote. Remembering what you were. What you are. You are alive, Shahid. We can feel you through your words. We see Kashmir through your verses. We can tell our story the way you told the world.
Shahid, you are here in my heart, living. As you wrote, “We shall meet again, in Srinagar, by the gates of the Villa of Peace, our hands blossoming into fists till the soldiers return the keys and disappear.” Shahid, we are meeting. We all. To celebrate you. But we are yet to receive the keys. We will. One day we will meet again, when the soldiers return the keys and disappear. Promise. Love you.