Table of Contents
  Index
PART I: Snow in Srinagar 
  Exile
  Reaching Srinagar
  The city of fame
  Rainy afternoon in ...
  Up the Sindh river in a doonga
  Snow in Srinagar
  Chilai Kalan
  Crossing the Vitasta
  Journey into the Himalayas
  Ishbar evenings
  Pony ride in the Liddar valley
  Views of Haramukh
  My father in Hawaii
PART II: Ten Thousand Years of Solitude 
  The Fire in the Waters
  Records of our lives
  Threads
  Ask Krishna
  The Conductor of the dead
  A Wounded bird
  The riddle of Isha
  Patanjali's song
  The hidden path up the hill
  Inner Sarasvati
  Naming things
  On high desert
  A small beginning
  Uncovering
  Seeking answers
  Nachiketa's dual
  Quantum implications
  Chance and necessity
  A Boy and his dog
  Book in pdf format

Koshur Music

An Introduction to Spoken Kashmiri

Panun Kashmir

Milchar

Symbol of Unity

 
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Records of our lives

What do we do with our memories, do we
trust them completely, or do we make recordings
of each moment we live, and keep a diary
for all thoughts? Then we can audit
each recall, and if we should forget 

or get amnesia, we can go back to the books
and relive our days moment by moment
refresh any period of choosing. 

But what if someone should steal my memories
and take my past for his own? Will the thief
become my twin or can I sue him
for faking his past? But what if he believes
his new memories completely? 

And how can I be certain that my recordings
are accurate and not transposed with some other?
How shall we find the truth or does it matter
whose memories these are anyway? 

On the other hand, if we trust our memories
and accept that we do suppress moments of youthful indiscretions
how do we know that what the others say about us
is false? Maybe, we broke the law several times 

so is it best to own up and confess?
Can memories return prompted by the dreams
of others or be dredged up by clever psychologists?
Are we responsible for our memories?
Should they be all nice and clean?
Can we borrow or buy good ones?
And if memories don't matter, then how do we define
ourselves? How is our responsibility
measured? If our memories are forced
by those around us, how much of credit
is theirs? Where is our freedom?

 

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