Sun Sets with life!

​The Sun sets in Kashmir either over the mountain shoulders or into the Dal Lake making the horizon red. A fascination for the travellers on land and water. I have not witnessed the sunset in air but if I do I will pull the latch to shield the sunset. I love to travel light without memories. But as they say sunsets are a proof that endings are beautiful too. 

In my childhood sunset was perceived through conflict and it was said that the redness in the sky is the blood shed during the day. It did make some sense in an atmosphere where killings were rampant. The sunsets in this context were ferocious for me. It never carried a hope of a new dawn. The symptoms and symbols were fed in folklores and myths. The kashmir has its unique way of creating meanings. It believed in the legend of Nilmatpuran that Sharika Devi put in her beak the Hariparbat fort and buried Jalodbava, an underwater demon in it. His soul still lurks in that mountain and this is why kashmir never was at peace. 

Imagine you are having a boat ride into the dal lake facing Hariparbat fort in the north , Shankarachariya in the North-west, Dargah in the North-east and  Parimahal in the south and the sun setting over the spirit of Jalodbava while scattering red light into the sky and a lucky boat man pushing the fragile waters of Dal Lake against the horizon. As if he wants to disappear and lost into the sunset. 

With friends we fear of loosing a day. As we sit together on the shores of Dal and watch the sun go down, it makes the pine tree shades longer on Zabarwan range and we realise of saying good riddance to each other. We acknowledge that the day is over and darkness has arrived. We hope for a good day sleeping in the house boat during the night. Our souls echo during the night into the Dal patrolled by soldiers. We sing, dance and smoke but also hear the  hovering spirit in that Fort, barbered wires around the fort, a cage inside the wire and some men arrested for ever while the whistles of soldiers blown into the crowded city of Srinagar. The night guard torches that search for needles during the night seems that the sunset has replaced the hand made torches. It is ferocious. 

The moon on the fortnight over the Parimahal had absorbed light of the sun during the day. It was a fortnight, proudly jetting out to shine Srinagar, illuminating Muqdim Sahab in the lap of Fort, glittering the marble of Dargah, while nostalgic Adi Shankara composing stories. But once the guard torches came out from the fort in the north, moon felt embarrassed in the south. It struggles to hide.

In this hide and seek, the sun rise gleaned over the mountains, boils the emotion into the house boat and makes us wade through the waters, stretch our arms with freedom, fishing, swimming and jumping into the air. A few hundred minutes spent in the freedom, till the sun sets again and this time we surrender to separation. We agree to loose each other by believing that some sun sets are last. 

But when they are observed with strange friends in the unknown destinies we feel that the sunsets that make the sky red might be the blood in real. Nothing can be more painful than to see and experience the sunsets with the people who are just there for a while. It is like carrying a sword, cutting the vessels of memories, rubbing off the wounds while you imagining the person sitting on the right side leaning onto  your shoulder while seeing the sun set. Some memories are beautiful like sunset but some have teeth in them like sunset with a lost friend. Few days sun rises over the Zabarwan carrying cherishing memories of Adi Shankara and Dara Shiko but other days sun falls over cages and forts that are despicable. 

In Bhaderwah the sun sets are buried into clouds. It rains the time sun sets. It brings all the western clouds together to end the memory of a sunset. It hides the blood in the sky. A unique place that prepares you for something else. The Shiva melts the snow here, sun hardly shines here….