The winter is not done yet, this year
cold breeze keeps coming back
from the mountains and high passes
closer to you. I keep thinking of you 
how are you? Last night 
my hand was in your pheran pocket
I found a cold walnut from last winter
the kangri was missing though.

There is fresh snow up there 
I am told. Is it true that lake froze again
did you get milk – you must drink tea 
did you get some vegetables  
did Farookh come, with his loaded shikara 
What did you eat last night, or drink
I hope you have some salt. 
I tried but couldn’t cry.

Open the window carefully, 
and just a little, only to peep
lots of snow rests on western slope
guards with guns have a barrack there, 
they shoot if anything moves – 
remember Zooni our love, our pet
remember? poor bitch had stepped out to pee.
did you go out? I remember our door faces east
one can see the Zabarwan – a white sheet  
in this season, like Ammi’s grave stone
in Habba Kadal qabristan.

Here in the city I don’t step out
it is cold here too, in barren Arawalis
I can’t walk barefoot on cold terrace stone 
it reminds me of young boys without shoes
outside Hazartbal, of women wailing 
at the banks of Jhelum.

The winter is not done yet, this year.

-Rajinder, 22 February 2022

Thinking of my Kashmir