Kashmiri Love Quotes

But you have no understanding of the depths of Kashmiri duplicity, Musa thought but did not say. You have no idea how a people like us, who have survived a history and a geography such as ours, have learned to drive our pride underground. Duplicity is the only weapon we have. You don’t know how radiantly we smile when our hearts are broken. How ferociously we can turn on those we love while we graciously embrace those whom we despise. You have no idea how warmly we can welcome you when all we really want is for you to go away. Your thermometer is quite useless here.

I'm a Kashmiri , I live in a rogue place. I'm surrounded by conformist , boot licking , people pleasing "herd"! People Safely cocooned in their stereotypical conformist lives, maintaining status quo , they make generic responses  expecting generic answers! 
For someone with an alien mentality like 'mine' , I am an out cast !  But it's 'them' who are the eerie one , like the deadly malignant tumour feeding on its own people ,  A parasite, growing inside the  system! Superficial faces , powdered with lies and deceit ;  people , like controlled robots, In love with their own ignorance !!

I had become something of a bird man – a passion that has remained with me – and could tell a Himalayan griffon from a bearded vulture and could identify the streaked laughing thrush, the orange bullfinch, Tytler’s leaf warbler and the Kashmir flycatcher, which was threatened then, and must surely by now be extinct. The trouble with being in Dachigam was that it had the effect of unsettling one’s resolve. It underlined the futility of it all. It made one feel that Kashmir really belonged to those creatures. That none of us who were fighting over it – Kashmiris, Indians, Pakistanis, Chinese (they have a piece of it too – Aksai Chin, which used to be part of the old Kingdom of Jammu and Kashmir), or for that matter Pahadis, Gujjars, Dogras, Pashtuns, Shins, Ladakhis, Baltis, Gilgitis, Purikis, Wakhis, Yashkuns, Tibetans, Mongols, Tatars, Mon, Khowars – none of us, neither saint nor soldier, had the right to claim the truly heavenly beauty of that place for ourselves. I was once moved to say so, quite casually, to Imran, a young Kashmiri police officer who had done some exemplary undercover work for us. His response was, ‘It’s a very great thought, Sir. I have the same love for animals as yourself. Even in my travels in India I feel the exact same feeling – that India belongs not to Punjabis, Biharis, Gujaratis, Madrasis, Muslims, Sikhs, Hindus, Christians, but to those beautiful creatures – peacocks, elephants, tigers, bears . . .’ He was polite to the point of being obsequious, but I knew what he was getting at. It was extraordinary; you couldn’t – and still cannot – trust even the ones you assumed were on your side. Not even the damn police.

Like the true Gujar woman that she was, her first love was the pine forest. Her most frequently repeated saying was, in Kashmiri, Un poshi teli, yeli vun poshi, which meant, “Forests come first, food comes second.” She saw herself as the guardian of the trees of the Forest of Khel and had to be propitiated every autumn when the villagers of Pachigam and Shirmal, who both foraged there, needed to stock up on firewood before the coming of the winter snows. “You wouldn’t want our children to freeze to death,” the villagers pleaded, and eventually she would concede that human children mattered more than living wood. She would guide the village men to those trees that were closest to death and these were the only ones she would allow them to fell.

Nothing,’ said Kaushalya wistfully. ‘The sun will rise. The birds will chirp and the city will go about its business. The world does not need us, my husband. We need the world. Come, let us go inside and prepare for Bharata’s coronation. Fortunes and misfortunes come and go but life continues.’ The motif of the beloved leaving on a chariot is a recurring one in the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. Ram leaves Ayodhya on his chariot and the people of Ayodhya try to stop him. Krishna leaves Vrindavan on his chariot and the milkmaids of Vrindavan try to stop him by hurling themselves before the chariot. Krishna does not keep his promise to return but Ram does. Unlike the departure of the Buddha that takes place in secret, Ram’s departure is public, with everyone weeping as the beloved is bound by duty to leave. Ram’s stoic calm while leaving the city is what makes him divine in the eyes of most people. He does what no ordinary human can do; he represents the acme of human potential. According to the Kashmiri Ramayana, Dashratha weeps so much that he becomes blind. Guha, the Boatman The chariot stopped when it reached the banks of the river Ganga. ‘Let us rest,’ said Ram. So everyone sat on the ground around the chariot. Slowly, the night’s events began to take their toll. People began to yawn and stretch. No sooner did their heads touch the ground than they fell asleep. Sita saw Ram watching over the people with a mother’s loving gaze. ‘Why don’t you sleep for some time?’ asked Sita. ‘No, the forest awaits.’ As the soft sounds of sleep filled the air, Ram alighted from the chariot and told Sumantra, ‘We will take our leave as they sleep. When they awaken tell the men and women of Ayodhya that if they truly love me, they must return home. I will see you, and them, again in fourteen years. No eclipse lasts forever.’ Ram walked upriver. Sita and Lakshman followed him. Sumantra watched them disappear into the bushes. The sky was red by the time they reached a village of fisherfolk; the sun would soon be up. ‘Guha,’ Ram

The first time Avis knelt on a chair and stirred eggs into flour to make a vanilla cake, she had an inkling of how higher orders of meaning encircle the chaos of life. Where philosophy, she already intuited, created only thought- no beds made, no children fed- in other rooms there were good things like measuring spoons, thermometers, and recipes, with their lovely, interwoven systems and codes. Avis labored over her pastries: her ingredient base grew, combining worlds: preserved lemons from Morocco in a Provencal tart; Syrian olive oil in Neapolitan cantuccini; salt combed from English marshes and filaments of Kashmiri saffron secreted within a Swedish cream. By the time Avis was in college, her baking had evolved to a level of exquisite accomplishment: each pastry as unique as a snowflake, just as fleeting on the tongue: pellucid jams colored cobalt and lavender, biscuits light as eiderdown.

Dear Mr. President of the USA, Donald Trump Your Excellency, Equality, justice, harmony, and love, within the concept and context of security, and respect, are for the entire humanity, not only for the USA and its people. Global peace lies in a step that; pull out your troops from the Muslim States and stop interfering with its systems and way of life; all terrorists will disappear, and peace shall prevail. One should realize the atrocities of the Isreal, against Palestinians’ determination and India, against Kashmiris that the United Nations and its Security Council fail to resolve and solve those disputes under the umbrella of the USA. Consequently, each one of us faces the consequences. You, as a leader of the great nation, ought to be great and noble; it is possible if you change your distinctive thoughts and policies; you may change human history, becoming the historical leader of the entire humanity that suffers from injustice and hunger and death. As I know that Pakistan Armed forces have devotedly and significantly sacrificed along with the Armed Forces of the USA for global peace, so never degrade your national pride, ignoring, denying, and forgetting that the sacrifice of our men and women, which we are still paying. You should cooperate, instead of becoming influenced by the opposing third party, to accuse Pakistan. We are a peaceful nation and determined to stand along with the USA forces, to eliminate all sorts of terrorists, for world peace. God bless you. - Ehsan Sehgal

Finding loyalty in love has become difficult, Love itself has lost its true essence.

It is like you Kashmiri people are sucking all the oxygen from the atmosphere; you people are yourself forging bedlam; lurid rims of your life, So much muddle, it seems that you are on the last verge of your life; utterly acquiesced on the exigencies being laid out that your deviltry and malfeasance can beat humanity up like a desecrated cloth worn by a beggar. Justify yourself and let live your life not on the immutable blades of life but on the squishy sheets of love.

دل کی سرزمین" (Dil Ki Sarzameen) میری دل کی سرزمین پر کبھی اولے جو تھے برسے میری فصل بھی مٹی اور میرا آشیاں بھی ٹوٹا مجھ میں جو رہتے تھے میرے جو ہوتے تھے نہ تو اُن کا نام کہیں نہ کہیں نشان چھوٹا جو چھپے تھے راز دل میں جو تھی اُن سُنی کہانی وہ کِتاب جل گئی اور بنا مدفن ہے اُس کا

My heart is aching and burning, With every beat, I feel the yearning. Are you not feeling my pain, As tears fall like a gentle rain? In the silence of the night, Your absence casts a haunting light. Memories of your smile so bright, Now shadowed by this endless fight. I long to hold you close, my dear, To whisper words that you can hear. But distance keeps us far apart, And sorrow fills my weary heart. Each moment without you feels like a year, As I navigate this sea of fear. For in your absence, I am but a shell, Lost in a world where I once knew well. So hear my plea, my love so true, Let's mend what's broken, start anew. For life without you is but despair, My heartache, my love, please handle with care.

How to Prove my love” In the shadows of night, my heart does confide, Tell me, oh tell me, how to prove my love's guide. In this world of doubts, how do I find my way? Show me a path, where my love can truly sway. The stars above witness my love's pure decree, But how do I prove it, if no one believes me? Guide me, oh guide me, in this love's lonely chase, How do I prove my love in this endless race? My heart's true desire, a love that won't cease, But how do I prove it, and find my heart's peace? So tell me, dear soul, the way to love's release, How do I prove my love, and let my heart find peace?