MOHD SHAFI PADDER -The English Poet of Kashmir valley is an outstanding author, Poet and the Critic. He is a Social Critic and universal Poet. He is considered the ray of Shakespeare by the people of England. It is said SHAKESPEARE SPEAKS.
An old ways of the Ganderbal
The Sun light of the Ganderbal is far abeam,
Along the shore of the Mansbal star lights gleam,
A year packed itself in my bosom to reveal,
The water of the Mansbal trembles and feel,
The narrow ways of Ganderbal’s folk,
South and North Kashmir, the long accustomed yoke,
Many voices flourish such as these,
Joyful sounds with its secret mysteries.
The bus set out on its track,
The soft wind drifted back,
Behind the hill bank of cloud,
The furious wind is piping loud,
It has a serious message to say,
It was Kashmiris crowning day.
In the Professors quality, it blow,
District Ganderbal dances to and fro,
Tragically old river,
With its flood destroys a flower,
An old man is a surrealist in his heart,
Throwing words disorderly with his tragic grace,
Collecting Kashmiris multi-layered face,
A Land where foolish hormones are under its foolish king-
Leaving spring and circling around a ring,
On the Scentless flower a song less bird,
Singing tragic notes which were never heard.
He was speaking in a nasal tone to spread,
Tragic news to bring with his words a flood,
I, myself viewed the Fertile Plains,
Feeling as a stranger, seasonal rains,
He was a simple in his tattered clothes,
My Poetic hormone was discovering Poetic moths,
He was glorifying a fairy land,
Criticizing Kashmiri Israelities with his hand,
We were friends on this land,
We find achievements which were grand,
He was collectively sad,
Let us say goodbye to it and welcome glad.
Suddenly two Passengers cry,
Building Castles in the sky.
Driver of the bus driving slow,
Passengers furiously overflow.
Taunts him and compares his bus with a Tonga,
Journey is short creatures donga
Enjoying making jokes of the day,
They were fresh as the flowers of the May.
They reached their station,
Showing strange passion,
And they alienates me on my track,
And they never came back.
They had simple brains,
Flying like aeroplanes,
In my journey, I strife.
Sweet-tongued boy and Riyaz
On the road, I met my friend to see the strange land,
We together took each others hand-in-hand,
Walk together to discover and yield,
Alas! The wonderful green green field,
On seeing him my veins invade,
Sights came and gets fade.
He introduced me with his family in a town,
Our journey started ,”further down “
Lofty hills with its green grass,
The breeze greet us as it pass.
From Kangan vegetables bloom,
We trio feel honey like perfume.
I loaded the moments on my Poetic horse to ride,
Rameez, Sweet-tongued-boy, Riyaz and I were taking side,
Side of the road to listen the lucky elf,
Oh gosh! Such a rocky shelf,
On the Kangan road poetry rippled in the breeze
Scent of words blossom laden trees.
Lipton tea I drank to me which is dearer,
With me Riyaz, the soul of friend ship, nearer,
I overwhelmed with his pearly arm,
Friend ship charged with electrons and got its charm,
I was kissing Poetic words and blending,
Them into its unity. But they were recommending,
To mingle it with your circulation,
In the persistent pulsation!
The chant of Kashmir in the silence I have heard,
On a tree a sweet colored bird,
With my sadness I with my friends rejoice,
Our single future voice.
We took photographs on the green grass,
From place to place with them I pass,
Wow! The romantic vale,
Shining stars brighten a tale,
Sunshine and the flowers,
Were marrying with the dew from hours,
I remember Poetically those two days,
Which unlocks my thousand ways.
I listen those sounds yet,
Within me Poetic fountain beget,
The rivers flow through the plain,
Golden time trembles me again and again.
Riyaz, the soul of friend ship is the soul of age,
Delighted us with his wondrous stage,
Our faces in the sun shine,
Createth Marlowe’s mighty line,
Friends is the soul of nature which designs,
An ink is dressing poetic lines,
Nature spins, and woven to fit,
Read my poetry sharpen your wit,
Damned good answer of our eyes,
Cooking Words in a cooker with Poetic rice.
Mansbal and Altaf
The water in its powerful motion,
Looking breast of Natures ocean,
The boats on the shore side to side pass,
Altaf’s face shone on the green grass,
The nature smiles and taught us to adore her,
And we feel the loneliness of Willow nearby the water,
My Poetic words speak glories,
And listen poetically poetic stories,
Our Images are so deep which we unfold,
On Sajads request Poetic words become bold,
It was the dim voice,
Alas! We had no choice,
Sweet soul on the Willow tree,
Cheering with his melody,
That was a Critic’s note,
Dwindling artful throat,
Emotions were inspired,