#ResurgentRhythm

[everythingkashmir]

The river will flow again

The library doors will swing open, the orchestra will play once more

By Faisul Yaseen

Once upon a time, a river whispered with life. It was the heartbeat of a place that thrived in all its glory. One day, something happened and the river fell silent. The place became a mere echo of its former self.

It was like a powerful storm wreaking havoc on a peaceful forest. Except, instead of wind and rain, it was an unusual force that stripped away the beauty of nature. The once proud and green trees now stood bare and quiet, their voices muted under the weight of forced stillness. The river was suddenly dammed, its flow abruptly halted.

The dry riverbeds reflect the desolation of what is happening now. The fish, the plants, and everything that once thrived along its banks is in danger, on the verge of disappearing in this stillness. Then there was a grand library that was home to countless ancient books. It held history and culture of its people. Soon, the doors of the library were locked and the voices within its pages silenced.

The library was left without the whispers and the sounds of turning pages. An eerie stillness replaced the vibrancy it once possessed. This was more than just silence. This silence spoke volumes. This silence is palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a thick mist muffling all voices.

The once bustling markets, where the scent of world’s costliest spice mixed with the laughter of children, now only whisper eerily. The schools, colleges, and universities lie dormant, uncertain of what the future holds.

However, deep within this quietness, like a forest without leaves, the spring is patiently waiting for its turn. The roots run deep, reaching down below the surface. Life stirs within, even if it’s silenced for now. It carries the seeds of heritage, ready to bloom when the time is right.

It’s like an orchestra of silence. A symphony without its instruments remains silent, but the music resides within the souls of the musicians. The melody beats in their hearts, waiting for the day they can raise their instruments and let the music flow once again. In these enforced silences, we are just like those musicians, holding onto their songs and stories.

No one will ever forget the beautiful music that once emanated from here. We need to remember the sweet symphony that was abruptly cut short. In this silence, there is not only loss but also a sense of anticipation that words cannot describe. It’s the feeling that might just allow the river to flow again, the library doors to open, and the orchestra to play once more.