The Redemption of false notion

 

KASHMIR, MARCH, 2022.

 The morning moved faster than usual, indicating that the day would be eventful, and the sky hung low and gray. Late in the afternoon, I discovered Aadil in his room, sitting by the window, his brow furrowed. His fingers moved restlessly over the rosary beads in contemplation. Because the heavy velvet curtains were half-closed, the room was dim, and there was a perplexing wedge of daylight that fell on certain spot where Aadil sat, giving the entire scene a dreamy quality. I couldn't help but wonder if Aadil would recognize the true intent behind everything I was about to ask him to do, or if he would be shocked and upset.

As I stood there taking in the tranquillity of the moment while also feeling scared and worried, I caught sight of

of a dream I noticed Aadil, a much older and frailer version of himself, sitting in a dark green robe.

in the same location, looking more compassionate and generous than ever before, but with a permanent scar

on his heart shaped like me I realised two things at once: Aadil would spend the rest of his life here, and

in this home And that my absence had left a wound that would never heal. My eyes welled up with tears.

"Do you feel okay?" "You appear pale," Aadil commented.

I forced myself to smile, but the weight of what I was about to say kept me from doing so. 

My tone was a little grumpy and less forceful than I intended. "Not at all. I'm thirsty, and there's nothing in this house to quench it."

"Would you like me to inquire with Aysha about what she can do about it?" Aadil inquired.

"No, because I don't have what I need in the kitchen." It can be found in the tavern. "You see, I'm in the mood to get drunk."

I pretended not to notice the look of bewilderment on Aadil's face and continued.

"Would you go to the liquor store for wine instead of the kitchen for water?"

"Do you want me to get you some wine?" Aadil inquired, cautiously pronouncing the final word, as if afraid of breaking it.

"That's correct. I'd be grateful if you could get us some wine. Two bottles would suffice, one for you and one for me. But please do me a favour. Don't just go to the barn and get the bottles and come back. Spend some time there. Speak with the people. I'll be waiting for you here. There's no need to rush."

Aadil looked at me, half irritated, half perplexed. I remembered the face of Yasir in Kulgam, who had wanted to accompany me but was too concerned about his reputation to take the risk.

His concern for other people's opinions had held him back. Now I was wondering if Aadil's reputation would hold him back,too.

But, much to my relief, Aadil stood up and nodded. "I've never been to a tavern and have never drunk wine." I don't believe drinking is appropriate. But I trust you completely because I believe in our love. There must be a reason for your behaviour asked me to do something like that I need to figure out why that is. I'll go get us some wine." He then said his goodbyes and walked out.I collapsed to the ground in utter ecstasy as soon as he left the room. Taking the rosary made of amber. I expressed Gratitude over and over for providing me with a true accomplice and prayed that his lovely soul would never recover from the inebriation of Divine Love.

 

Poesy To Nymph

Let me not to the accredited

of fake promises

To me, fair you, you never

can be old,

You see my antique pen would

have expressed

Even such a beauty as you

alter now.

I Have eyes to wonder, 

but lack words to praise.

Yes my love, swears that

you are made of truth

I do believe on both sides 

thus is simple truth suppress’d

You are water to life and

I'm soul to fire.

So long as you can breathe,

or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this 

gives life to me.

The poem is actually a sonnet written by Aadil Ghulam Bhat that speaks of a love that is so strong and true that it transcends time and space. The poet declares that he will not be swayed by false promises, and that the beauty of his love is eternal and unchanging. He compares his beloved to a work of art that cannot be altered, even by the passage of time. The poet is in awe of his beloved's beauty and acknowledges that his words are inadequate to express the depth of his admiration.

The poem expresses the belief that true love is a force that can overcome all obstacles and endure forever. The poet's love for his beloved is not based on external qualities, such as wealth or social status, but on the intrinsic goodness and truth that he perceives in her. The poet believes that his love is reciprocated, and that his beloved is also made of truth.

The power of poetry is also a central theme in the poem. The poet recognizes that words alone are insufficient to convey the depth of his love, but he also acknowledges the importance of poetry in expressing the inexpressible. The poet's antique pen is a symbol of the enduring power of poetry, and his inability to fully capture his beloved's beauty with words underscores the ineffable nature of true love.

The poem's concluding couplet affirms the timeless nature of the poet's love. The poet declares that as long as he and his beloved are alive, their love will continue to exist, and that their love gives life to him. This final affirmation reinforces the theme of the enduring power of love and the ability of true love to transcend time and space.

In summary, the poem is a beautiful expression of the enduring power of love and the importance of poetry in capturing the essence of that love. It is a timeless reminder that true love is not based on superficial qualities, but on the intrinsic truth and goodness that exist within a person.

Authors Note:

Myself Adil ghulam bhat, I am a poet and the author of a books (100 years of my painful nights, Nights in solitude). Poetry does not have such tips because it is the art of expressing emotions, feelings and can never be based on tips. Poetry is a profound literature and plays a role with proper system. 

NIGHTS-IN-SOLITUDE-

A creative writing technique is usually characterized by a certain rhythm and style. The modern poet wears many hats: he can write ghazals, produce commercial genre, create poetry books, write for greeting card companies, work for websites and compete in competitions; Just to have a few names.

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