One day, I will come to Kashmir to find it changed:
Youth becoming old, while the old dying in old age,
Girls getting married and dowry will be absent.
Things will be cheap, while money will be enough.
Babies will play in dust and diseases will be less.
Walls will be nowhere and fear will be uncommon.
Singers will sing originality, while the silent will prefer silence.
Speakers will be fewer and there will be listeners.
Fear of Allah will be common, while the bad deeds will be uncommon.
Life will be easy and death easier.
Mornings will be pleasant and the evenings sweet.
Springs will often visit us, while winter will be as usual.
Snow will fall endlessly and the Jhelum will be clean.
The Jama Masjid will be full of devotees, with Zikr common.
The Masjids will soothe our souls.
Farmers will plant mercy to reap mercy.
Golden fields will throw shine here and there.
Water in canals will flow noiselessly.
Lovers will meet on the banks of the Doodhganga without fear.
The Hazratbal going will be our cherished dream.
Rowing boats in Dal Lake will be a common interest.
No curfew and no lockdown will be our fate.
No encounter and no youth’s blood will be spilt on the road.
Mothers will tell long stories of our ancestors.
When our grandfathers used to come back from the Hokersar Wetland late in the night.
The Ghats of our villages will emerge again.
Pitchers will be on the women’s heads to bring Lal Ded back again.
One day, it will happen.
